18. Meeting at Tukwila

The gruesome scene at the Velvet Pleasure served as a harsh wake-up call.

I could no longer afford to leave anything to chance.

These were not the lumbering undead aimlessly wandering the wilderness, waiting for H.A.R.M. to dispatch them.

Exploiting existing connections and catching vamps off guard had been simple, but this approach was unsustainable.

These violent creatures had emotions and communicated far more efficiently than I had anticipated.

With each fallen vampire, the survivors grew more ruthless and vigilant. If news of the apevamps' demise spread, my next ambusher could very well be a formidable foe.

I refused to live in perpetual fear. I needed more lifespan. With this realization, I rose and slowly exited the building.

A crowd had gathered on Willow Street, drawn by the spectacle of police officers brawling amongst themselves - a rare and intriguing display of internal conflict.

"Release them," I ordered, tilting my chin towards the bound officers.

"Yes, sir." Wade nodded and signaled the others to uncuff them.

He averted his gaze, a flicker of conflict in his eyes. With a gritted jaw, he produced a bloodstained, opened letter. "Perhaps you should see this... I got it from one of them."

I frowned, accepting the letter and carefully unfolding it.

A single sentence filled the page.

"Come to Tukwila, I have something to ask you."

There was no salutation, no signature, just a stark demand.

However, based on my knowledge of the jackalvamps, they were more adept with blades than pens.

The only one who could indulge in such leisurely activities was the elder jackal, the one with no concerns about food or drink. And within the police force, I was the sole individual with a connection to Golden Chief.

Wade, clearly sensing the implications, had hesitated before revealing the letter: "What should we do? You can't possibly go, but ignoring it would only lead them to seek you out in town... Should you consult with the sheriff?"

They all thought Sheriff Williams treated me like a half-nephew.

With that kind of relationship, as long as I voiced my concerns, I might even be able to request the intervention of the county executive's powerful security specialist.

"We need to act quickly, otherwise Tukwila..." Wade's voice trailed off with worry.

"Unfortunately," Silas Bennett, staggering to his feet and leaning against the wall, coughed up blood, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "The sheriff has already issued orders. No officer is allowed out of town, you're all confined within the county walls. You're lucky the troops are protecting your life, but as for those other pathetic souls... Bah... you are powerless to save them."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Wade's heart sank. He glanced at me, but the sight only deepened his sense of helplessness.

Despite witnessing my unexpected strength, he couldn't shake the image of me as a mere police officer, hopelessly outmatched against the full force of the jackalvamps.

Even those trained to fight these creatures are hiding, he thought grimly. Then, a flicker of hope sparked as he noticed the tension easing from my brow.

"Sergeant Kane..."

I patted his shoulder. "Return to your duties."

Initially, I had been troubled by the vamps' remote location deep within the mountains, the rugged terrain making them difficult to track. Now that they desired a meeting, how could I possibly miss such a golden opportunity?

Despite my composure, Wade grew increasingly uneasy as he watched me. As I turned to leave, he blurted out, "Is he leaving town?"

Silas Bennett, flanked by two subordinates, scoffed and spat a glob of phlegm onto the ground. "Leaving town? I've watched that weasel claw his way up from the gutter. He wouldn't shed a tear if his own mother were devoured by vamps. Now he's playing the hero?"

… …

Pinewood County's walls rose defiantly from the ruins of a shattered civilization, each stone a testament to generations of tireless effort. After the apocalypse, vampire fauna had overrun once-bustling cities and towns, leaving only pockets of resistance. But thanks to fortifications like these, humanity slowly reclaimed its territory, pushing back the darkness and rebuilding a semblance of the world we once knew.

At its peak, New Terra had successfully eradicated the beastvamp threat, allowing people to venture beyond the protective walls and cultivate the once-forsaken lands. Yet, slowly, beastvamps came back, threatening the livelihood of the villagers.

Beyond the county wall, a figure darted through the air, a blur against the sky. Treetops swayed in his wake, sending birds scattering into flight.

The Cobra's Coil, a seemingly ordinary technique, when fueled by the First Realm's energy, allowed for movement undetectable to the naked eye.

Soon, the dilapidated church came into view once more.

I slowed my pace, my breathing steady, betraying no sign of the strenuous exertion moments before.

In the fields of Tukwila, the villagers paused their work, their eyes fixed on the figure with a knife standing at the village entrance.

Typically, the arrival of a police officer signaled impending trouble.

Either forced labor or a vamp threat loomed.

However, as the visitor's face became clear, the villagers' expressions softened.

They remembered him.

This was the same officer who had single-handedly slain the jackalvamps last time, departing without demanding anything in return.

A toddler girl, clad in a comically oversized tunic, toddled over, proffering a chipped bowl. "Water," she baby talked.

I gently patted her head, took the bowl, and drained its contents in a single gulp.

As I set the bowl down, my gaze drifted towards the mountain path winding away from the village.

As the saying goes, timing is everything... and the timing was impeccable.

On the rugged mountain path, over a dozen figures emerged from the dense forest, each towering two heads above an average person.

Beneath their matted fur rippled well-defined muscles. They had ferocious visages, clad only in loincloths, their shoulders bearing an immense palanquin standing 12 feet high. They traversed the treacherous path as if it were level ground.

Upon the sedan chair reclined a figure weighing no less than a thousand pounds, exuding an air of indolence.

Layers of fat, each a finger's width thick, accumulated on its body, forming a fleshy mountain so dense it was impossible to discern how many layers there were.

The most striking feature was its smooth, dark yellow fur, contrasting sharply with the other jackalvamps.

Moments later, they arrived at the village entrance, halting the palanquin.

The ragged girl, reaching for her chipped bowl, turned and saw them, stumbling and falling back into a crouch.

All expression vanished from her dirt-streaked face. She held her breath, her milk teeth biting her lip, her small body trembling involuntarily.

Unlike the young girl, the other villagers appeared calmer. Or rather, resigned.

Their eyes instinctively sought the intersection.

There stood a lone police officer, armed with nothing but a knife. Behind him, the winding road lay silent. They waited, but no other figure emerged.

The villagers understood something, and there was despair in their haunted eyes.

They crouched down, hugging themselves tightly, neither crying nor fleeing.

The toddler suddenly noticed she was enveloped in a tall shadow.

She looked up.

The policeman walked past her, drawing his dagger as he went.

I raised the police-issued dagger, positioning myself before the colossal sedan chair.