I had always sensed a unique quality in Shadowstrike. It took only five years to become a master of Standard Police Training, but Shadowstrike required eight years just to become a journeyman and a grueling thirty-three years to achieve perfection and uncover a deeper understanding.

I knew this elusive insight held the potential to transcend the capabilities of ordinary combat techniques.

With a resolute decision, I channeled ten years of the absorbed lifespan into Shadowstrike.

[You persisted in refining your already perfected Shadowstrike. Ten years passed in a blink, and that elusive spark grew brighter. Yet, your talent proved insufficient to fully grasp it.]

"..."

"That's all?"

Disappointment welled within me. Ten years! And not just any ten years, but a decade of unwavering dedication.

Ten years of focused effort in any line of work could buy me a house in a small town, yet when thrown into Shadowstrike, it barely caused a ripple.

But having invested so much, giving up was not an option. I continued pouring in absorbed lifespan.

[In the seventeenth year, you finally captured that elusive spark and started transcribing it into notes.]

[In the twenty-seventh year, you expended all your energy to perfect it, naming it "Lightstrike."]

[Remaining Absorbed Lifespan: thirty-six years.]

...

"Creating my own fighting technique?"

A sudden influx of swordsmanship knowledge flooded my mind. As I absorbed it, I realized it wasn't what I had expected.

On the panel, a new line of text appeared beside Shadowstrike:

[First Realm - Lightstrike]

This was not a completely new technique, but a derivative, a refinement, level of mastery was irrelevant.

The years of training took place within the panel and passed in the blink of an eye, yet my recollection remained vivid.

After sixty years of relentless effort, I was forced to confront a harsh reality: the limits of human potential.

No matter how skilled I became, no matter how much I honed my body, I would never be able to overcome the truly formidable beastvamps.

An idea sparked within me: to harness the life-force within my body, refining it into pure energy and channeling that power through my blade, a method used in the First Realm.

"First Realm?" I mused, recalling the term from the jackalvamp's description. The enlightened creature had not yet attained the First Realm, implying that Lightstrike had somehow surpassed a threshold of strength and power.

"Could I, by further unraveling the mysteries of Shadowstrike, create a complete First Realm technique, rather than a mere derivative?" I pondered, excitement kindling in my eyes.

Yet, rationality prevailed. I quelled the urge to invest all the remaining lifespan into this endeavor. Creating a new technique was undoubtedly a laborious undertaking. The same investment in established techniques would surely yield greater immediate returns.

I recalled that a captain from H.A.R.M. taught police officers more than one fighting techniques. Given my position within the police force, acquiring one shouldn't pose much difficulty.

"Let's rest for now," I said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me after the day's tumultuous events.

I gestured towards the bed, and the mother and daughter quickly brought a basin of hot water. The young girl gently placed my feet in the warm water and began kneading them with her rough hands.

I closed my eyes, releasing a long sigh. Based on their timid demeanor, establishing dominance in this household would be effortless.

Yet, I opened my eyes and thanked the girl softly, "That's enough. You may go now. I'll rest for the night and be on my way." I kept my tone neutral.

Considering my past misdeeds, any sudden display of kindness would only amplify their unease.

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As expected, the mother hesitated, her muddied eyes filled with doubt. But she quickly recovered, taking her daughter by the hand and nodding fervently. "Sergeant Kane, you are most welcome here. Stay as long as you wish. If you need anything, just call."

They hastily retreated with the basin and disappeared into the other room. I immediately fell asleep from exhaustion, unsure if it was from the fighting or the sixty years of relentless training simulated in the panel.

Yet, I didn't sleep for long. The touch of cool, smooth skin woke me. The curvy woman hesitated, sensing my movement. Then, with sudden abandon, she clung to me, a desperate hug pressing her softness tightly against me. The next moment, her legs entwined with mine, but all I could hear was her muffled sobbing.

I nudged closer, offering my shoulder as her head found rest. The night's horrors must have unleashed a storm within her. She desperately sought comfort, and I, her last resort, was also her only resort.

I gently stroked her hair, humming a lullaby that surprisingly surfaced from my memory. A vague awareness of being an orphan lingered; with no recollection of my mother's face, yet the lullaby stayed with me.

The sobbing subsided. My gentleness seemed to surprise her. After a long silence, she realized I wouldn't make the first move. With practiced ease, she unbuckled my pants with one hand, and started to move down.

I stilled her movement. I badly needed a release, but I wanted it to be mutually satisfying. Gently, I rolled atop her. Her body no longer cold, now radiating warmth and anticipation. My hands explored her curves, finding the hot mess between her thighs. Her eyes fluttered close, savoring the moment.

Passionate moaning erupted as I entered her. She tried hard to lower her voice, not remembering the last time she felt this shy.

Bodies intertwined and parted, tensed and relaxed, their rhythm echoing the rise and fall of panting breaths and hushed cries. Finally, exhaustion claimed victory, and we drifted into a deep, satisfied slumber.

Dawn broke, rousing the young girl from nightmares. Bleary-eyed, she glimpsed a figure outside - a lean, sharp young man in a black uniform, dagger at his hip, radiating an air of heroism.

I silently departed the building, pausing only to lift the shattered door the beast had torn down, offering a meager barrier against the chill wind.

"Mom, Sergeant Kane is leaving."

"Oh... gone?" Her mom's voice choked with mixed emotions.

...

The morning air hung heavy with dew, a light mist clinging to the streets.

Emerging from the fog, I stood before the reinforced steel frame beneath the Pinewood County Police sign.

Familiarly, I entered through the side door and made my way to the homicide squad room.

Pinewood County Police boasted seven or eight teams, one of which I led, comprising six officers. My direct superior was Anil Patel, head of the Homicide Unit.

Settling into my desk, I idly flipped through the files on its surface, realizing I had no recollection of their contents.

This confirmed my lack of interest in official duties.

Since the Apocalypse, beastvamps—mutated animals contaminated with vampire blood—have plagued New Terra (NT). Despite the establishment of H.A.R.M., manpower remained woefully inadequate.

Control of the beastvamp threat often fell to local police forces, with H.A.R.M. only intervening when situations spiraled out of control, leading to government suspension and police force restructuring.

This chaotic environment allowed me to exploit the situation. My ability to negotiate with vampiric fauna painted a false veneer of peace over Pinewood County, earning the trust of superiors while shielding my subordinates from actual combat, thus minimizing casualties and bolstering my reputation.

My handling of affairs was so adept that rumors circulated of my potential promotion to replace Anil Patel as head of homicide.

Of course, not everyone was pleased by this prospect.

I surveyed the squad room; my team had yet to arrive. My gaze fell upon a bottle of wine at the foot of the desk. I picked it up, and fell into contemplation.

At that moment, a powerfully built young man burst through the door. His eyes initially flickered with disdain upon seeing me, but he quickly masked his emotions, removing his hat to reveal a handsome face. "Sergeant!"

Wade Rivers, the newest member of the squad, had a reputation for exceptional physical talent, even earning praise from a H.A.R.M. captain. Yet, his youthful energy had led him to clashes with beastvamps, resulting in severe reprimands from his superiors and his subsequent reassignment to me for further training.

After his parents deceased, Wade had moved to Pinewood County with his younger sister. He harbored the belief that I had designs on his sister, leading to constant friction between us. Eventually, an uneasy truce was reached: he would obey my orders, I would leave his sister alone.

Why had I agreed to such a ridiculous arrangement? I gritted my teeth, a stray thought drifting through my mind, but Wade's voice broke the silence.

"Sergeant Kane, I've just returned from Tukwila. There's been an incident in the village." Midway in his sentence, he recalled my prior orders, hesitated before he continued, "Despite your directive to focus solely on the city, a monster has defied the rules and taken up residence there."

His words grew more rapid, as if fearing interruption. Clearly, this wasn't the first time he'd faced such resistance.

"I hope... you will... negotiate..."

As he uttered the word "negotiate," a wave of shame washed over his face. Nonetheless, he maintained a respectful tone, careful not to offend me.

After all, I typically handled such situations with indifference and apathy. If you wanted my assistance, you had to earn my favor.

"If I recall correctly, the H.A.R.M. captain brought three beastvamp fighting manuals. You borrowed them, didn't you?"

I rose from my chair and stretched, sauntering towards the squad room door.

"Huh?"

Wade stood frozen, bewildered, wondering if I had not heard a word he'd said?

"Show them to me," I commanded, extending my hand.

He took a deep breath, walked to his desk, and retrieved three meticulously preserved books, veins bulging in his hands. After a moment's hesitation, he reluctantly handed them over.

Based on my usual behavior, he likely assumed these precious manuals would either be relegated to propping up a table leg or gifted to some paramour as a novelty.

I accepted the manuals and strolled out.

Wade remained rooted to the spot, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger. The man hadn't even inquired one single thing. Did the lives of those outside the city not matter?

Just as doubt consumed him, I leaned back through the doorway, my voice carrying across the room. "Why are you standing there like an idiot? Lead the way."