Chapter 1
I pushed open the hidden door to the underground banquet hall of the Twilight Hotel.
The stench of blood mingled with the cloying sweetness of champagne, creating a nauseatingly extravagant atmosphere. Crystal chandeliers cast a false glow, illuminating the human elites and creatures of the night seated in a haphazard arrangement. Their laughter was loud, their eyes cold, as if they were appraising prey ready to be butchered.
I was wearing a cheap suit that cost ninety-nine dollars. The collar was frayed and the cuffs were half an inch too short.
Nobody's watching me.
A servant came in carrying a tray with half a plate of leftovers. There was still someone else's lipstick stain on the fork.
“Miss Vivian invites you to have your meal first.” His smile was professional, but the contempt in his eyes was almost undisguised.
I took the plate without saying a word.
Whispers arose from the surroundings, which then turned into undisguised laughter.
"Look at that suit, it must be a Walmart sale item, right?"
"A veteran wants to marry a tycoon's daughter? Dream on."
"I heard he makes a living carrying sacks at the docks, earning eighty dollars a day."
The voice pierced me like needles. I stood in the corner, finishing my cold steak bite by bite. It tasted like cardboard. But I had promised my benefactor that I would fulfill this engagement promise.
A promise made ten years ago. Her last words to me when she saved me: "Promise me you'll take good care of Vivian."
I will keep my promise. Even if it's a humiliation whose outcome I already knew.
The lights in the banquet hall suddenly dimmed by a third.
The music suddenly stopped.
Everyone turned their heads, their gazes converging on the spiral staircase.
Vivian descended the stairs slowly, her twelve-centimeter heels clicking on the floor. She wore a red, backless evening gown adorned with jewels. Two obvious bloody holes pierced her neck, their edges tinged with an unnatural bluish-purple, like wounds inflicted by a wild animal.
The mark of the vampires.
A man followed behind her. He had pale skin, scarlet eyes, and wore a black tuxedo. His nails were trimmed to a sharp, blade-like edge, gleaming coldly in the lamplight.
Viscount Valerius.
The seventh seat in the Seattle Vampire Council.
Vivian walked to the center of the banquet hall, where a waiter handed her a gold-embossed document. She accepted it with the elegance of receiving a bouquet of flowers, but her voice was shrill and jarring.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending my engagement party."
She paused, and her gaze finally swept over me, as if sweeping over an old piece of furniture that should be thrown in the trash.
"The person I'm engaged to is certainly not Mr. Lucius."
The audience burst into laughter.
I put down my fork.
Vivian unfolded the document and read it aloud line by line, her voice laced with a smug cruelty:
"Given that Mr. Lucius has been unemployed for three months, has less than five thousand dollars in savings, lives in a tin-roofed apartment converted from a junkyard, and refuses my family's 'charitable arrangement'—"
She looked up and smiled at me, a smile as sweet as a poisoned apple.
"I hereby announce the annulment of the engagement I made ten years ago."
Thunderous applause erupted.
Valerius, his arm around her waist, his fangs gleaming coldly in the lamplight, looked down at me condescendingly.
"Did you hear that, you poor wretch? She's my blood servant now."
I didn't move.
He simply clenched his fist. His knuckles made a slight cracking sound, which was drowned out by the applause.
Vivian walked up to me.
Her perfume was expensive. Her benefactor used a five-dollar bottle of lavender from the supermarket.
Cheap, but clean.
"Lucius, you won't blame me, will you?" She tilted her head, her eyes showing a calculated calmness. "After all, you can't give me the life I want."
"Lord Valerius promised me eternal life."
She stretched out her hand, showing off the ruby bracelet on her wrist, and dangled it in front of me:
"This one is enough for you to work for ten years."
I looked up at her.
"When your benefactor saved you, you were so poor that you only had one pair of pants left."
Vivian's expression changed.
The laughter around them grew louder, and some even whistled. Valerius narrowed his eyes, and the mental pressure of the vampire viscount rolled down like a tidal wave—enough to make ordinary people kneel and beg for mercy, foaming at the mouth.
The waiters in the banquet hall all bowed their heads, and some even collapsed to the ground.
I am standing.
Not moving at all.
My body, transformed by the Holy Blood, withstood the mental impact, my spine cracking slightly like bent steel bars. But my knees didn't bend an inch.
Valerius's smile vanished.
“Interesting.” He released Vivian and slowly walked up to me, like a wolf surveying its prey. “A veteran? No wonder you have such a strong will.”
"but--"
He raised his pale hand, his fingernails reflecting a cold light under the lamp.
"Before vampires, the will of mortals is insignificant."
"Kneel down."
"Kiss the toes of my shoes."
"I'll let you leave with dignity."
The entire room fell silent.
Everyone was staring at me.
Vivian covered her mouth, laughing so hard she was shaking.
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.
The stigma sealed on my chest throbbed slightly, like a captive sun trying to break free of its cage. I suppressed it. It couldn't be unsealed. It couldn't be exposed. The Papacy's kill order remained in effect; any fluctuation of holy light would be identified as an "informant monk."
I can only endure it.
I will etch every mocking face into my memory.
"Are you deaf?"
Valerius lost his patience, his pale claws suddenly grabbing at my shoulder as he activated his vampire power.
The bones began to bear more than two thousand pounds of torque, and the joints groaned in agony from the strain.
Vivian screamed, her voice filled with excitement:
Break his legs! Make him crawl out of here!
I opened my eyes.
That's enough.
My right hand flashed and snapped back onto his wrist.
There is no holy light.
There is no magic.
Pure physical power. The terrifying physical strength transformed by the Holy Blood was unleashed without reservation at this moment.
I gripped it tightly.
Click—!
The crisp sound of bones cracking exploded in the banquet hall like firecrackers.
Valerius's screams ripped through everyone's eardrums.
His prized "immortal bloodline skeleton" shattered into powder in my hands. White bone fragments pierced pale skin, and black blood splattered on the marble floor like eerie black flowers.
The vampire viscount slammed his knees to the ground and knelt down.
I stepped on his face, the sole of my shoe grinding against his nose.
"Kneel down?"
"As you wish."
"It's just that you're the one kneeling before me."
The banquet hall fell into a deathly silence.
No one dared to breathe.
Vivian collapsed to the ground, her face ashen, her lips trembling as she couldn't utter a single word.
Valerius clutched his severed arm and roared madly, his voice filled with humiliation and rage:
"Kill him! Kill him!"
The side door burst open with a crash.
Six high-ranking blood servants rushed in. Their eyes were as red as embers, their muscles mutated and bulged, tearing their clothes, and their fangs were three inches long, with saliva dripping onto the marble floor.
Ordinary humans would be so frightened by them that they would lose control of their bladders.
I released Valerius and loosened my wrist.
Ten seconds.
Six bodies lay on the ground.
All four limbs were broken in reverse, like a dismantled toy. There was no weapon, only military-grade Krav Maga combined with the explosive power of the blood-modified body. Precise. Efficient. Deadly.
The ground was filled with wails of agony.
No one dared to step forward again.
I turned and walked towards the door.
As I passed Vivian, she grabbed my trouser leg, trembling, tears ruining her makeup.
“Lucius…I…I didn’t know you were so strong—”
I shook off her hand.
"When your benefactor died, you were picking out a diamond ring in a bar."
The voice was calm, as if stating a fact unrelated to oneself.
I pushed open the door and walked into the hallway.
A roar came from behind, a hoarse, desperate cry:
"I'm going to kill you! I swear! I'll tear your bones off one by one!"
I didn't turn around.
VIP seating on the second floor.
In the shadows, a woman puts down her wine glass.
She wore a well-tailored black suit, her chestnut hair was styled in an updo, and her eyes were sharp as an eagle's, like a night owl stalking its prey in the dark.
"Check his information."
She spoke to her assistant in a low, authoritative voice.
"Yes, Miss Serafina."
The woman stared at Lucius's disappearing figure, a complex mix of emotions flashing in her eyes—shock, calculation, and a barely perceptible hint of...confirmation.
That figure.
That fighting stance.
It is 80% similar to the "weapons of divine punishment of the Papacy" recorded in ancient books.
A corner of the banquet hall.
A "whistleblower monk" dressed as a waiter quietly put away his miniature recorder.
A fanatical flame flashed in his eyes, like a pilgrim who had finally witnessed a miracle.
"The Arbiter's battle stance... confirmed."
He pressed the headset button, his voice extremely low, yet unable to conceal his excitement:
"Your Excellency, the target has been spotted."
"Seattle, Twilight Hotel"
"Requesting the dispatch of a hunting squad."
At the same time, the lights in the banquet hall came back on, and the music started playing again, as if nothing had happened.
But the stench of black blood permeating the air, and the twisted bodies on the floor, silently proclaimed one thing—
From tonight onward, Seattle's dark world will never know peace again.
