The apevamp in the straw raincoat removed its bamboo hat, revealing sparse black hair that hinted at its age. Short in stature with a disproportionately large head, it flipped its lips to reveal two fangs, remarking, "Your swordsmanship is extraordinary, but it's a pity you lack a good sword."

The taller, younger ape vampire knelt on one knee, producing a bundle meticulously wrapped in silk and satin. Carefully unwrapping it, it presented a slender sword. The scabbard, straight and jet-black, gleamed with an oily sheen and gilded patterns.

With reverence, it extended its hands, offering the sword. The elder apevamp in the straw raincoat clasped the hilt with its thin fingers, drawing the gleaming dark blade and examining it with a touch of fondness.

I couldn't help but notice a curious pattern: the more powerful these monsters became, the more they seemed to emulate human behavior. Golden Chief insisted on traveling by palanquin, but its only indulgence was gluttony. Its thoughts revolved solely around cannibalism, and it chose a nickname based on its physical appearance.

This group of ape vampires chose to wear human clothes, adopted the refined name "Lucius Simian," and sought the company of beautiful women. As for Sarpa-Rani, it even embraced elaborate attire and aspired to kidnap the finest craftsmen to create the most exquisite jewelry. It was as if, with their increasing power, they developed a desire to imitate and even surpass human sophistication.

"The name of my sword is..." Lucius Simian began, eyes ablaze with anticipation, ready to regale me with the sword's history.

But I had other plans. Gathering my focus, I swung my dagger towards the tall apevamp kneeling before me. Kneeling before fight? What a foolish mistake.

Scarlet evil energy enveloped my blade as it struck the apevamp's neck with a surge of newfound power. The Body of Golden Sun had transformed my strength into an endless torrent, far surpassing my previous abilities.

Caught off guard, neither monster anticipated my sudden attack. The young ape vampire, momentarily stunned, only managed a feeble attempt to block my blow. In that split second of hesitation, my blade sliced through its cervical vertebrae as effortlessly as if through cheese.

Its head, eyes blank with shock, rolled to a stop at Lucius Simian's feet. The elder apevamp clutched the sword, its nostrils flaring in rage. "Absurd! Absurd!" it shrieked. "Uncivilized backwater savage!"

For these creatures, even eating required meticulous hand-washing, bathing every three days, and incense burning every five. How much more so for the solemn act of killing? One must announce oneself, explain motives, justify the necessity of taking a life, and outline the intended method of execution.

The sheer crudeness of my actions was clearly an affront to their sensibilities.

With a piercing shriek, Lucius Simian's thin frame launched into the air, the black sword in its hand slashing with fierce precision. The attack revealed a mastery of swordsmanship honed through years of practice.

A burst of icy blade energy erupted, shattering the small thatched hut. Despite its emotional turmoil, Lucius Simian's strikes followed a methodical, profound trajectory, clearly demonstrating a perfectly executed First Realm sword technique. It had not only learned human customs but also mastered human martial arts.

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"Savage beast!" it screeched. "You murdered my son! I'm going to cut you up!”

Lucius Simian pressed forward with a series of increasingly swift attacks, its two elongated arms a blur of motion.

My official saber, a mere seven thousand dollar creation before factoring in workshop profits, was no match for the superior weapon wielded by my opponent. The disparity in our armaments became painfully clear as we clashed, both in First Realm and with comparable skills.

If I clung to the notion of emerging unscathed, I realized, the cost could be far greater.

Seizing a momentary opening, I lunged forward with a decisive slash. The weapon disparity was even greater than I had anticipated. In a single, full-force clash, the police-issued saber was cleaved in two, the blade flying off.

Prepared for this eventuality, I immediately abandoned the hilt and pressed my attack, closing the distance between us. My long, powerful fingers curled into a fist, ready to inflict damage even at the cost of injury.

Lucius Simian read my intention but instead of fear, a ferocious grin spread across its face. It alone knew the true sharpness of the sword it had carried for years. Trade injury for injury? It scoffed internally. You won't get the chance to make another move.

In a flash, the dark blade struck my shoulder. But instead of the expected tearing of flesh and the sound of slicing meat, there was a resounding clang of metal on metal.

Both of us froze in astonishment, Body of the Golden Sun far exceded my expectation. Lucius Simian gripped its sword in disbelief. No matter how much force it exerted, the gleaming black blade refused to budge even an inch.

It raised its head, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of astonishment in its eyes. What was he surprised by? Why did he dodge earlier? Who was he trying to impress with his theatrical display of resilience?

Before Lucius Simian could fully comprehend the situation, five strong fingers gripped its face, and with a surge of overwhelming force, its entire body was slammed to the ground. The impact felt as if it would shatter its internal organs.

This power was far beyond the First Realm. Rather, it was the realm Lucius Simian yearned for. How could a body temperer, comparable to the Wave Realm, scoop to a sneak attack? Lucius Simian's confusion was cut short as a descending fist crushed half of its eye socket.

Blood filled its nostrils, it opened its mouth with a guttural growl, the sweet, coppery taste overflowing uncontrollably.

The whooshing sound of fists filled its ears, like the whispers of a death-beckoning ghost.

… …

In the distance, Butcher Garcia landed another punch. He and the Wiry Samurai, having trained under the same master, were intimately familiar with each other's techniques. It was a stalemate, neither gaining a clear advantage.

Yet, this particular punch struck true, landing squarely on the Wiry Samurai's nose. He recoiled in pain, blood trickling unnoticed as his eyes widened in terror, fixated on something in the distance.

“Trying to make me turn around? Childish!” Butcher Garcia sneered. "Today, I'll put an end to you, you disgrace to our school!"

Butcher Garcia raised his fist to strike again, only to notice the thin figure’s unwavering gaze towards something behind him. Gritting his teeth, Garcia turned to look, a shiver creeping down his spine.

Dozens of young men stood frozen, rifles and pistols dangling uselessly in their hands.

At the forefront, Sergeant Kane was pinning down the old apevamp, raining down blows with fists coated in a sticky red and white paste that dripped onto the ground. With each strike, the ape vampire's legs twitched and spasmed. Until finally, they stopped.

The young man slowly rose, exhaling a long breath, his dark blue eyes surveying the scene. The moment his gaze swept over them, the officers and soldiers collapsed to their knees, too terrified to even plead for mercy.

"How long has it been..." Butcher Garcia mumbled, stunned. The fight had ended before he'd even broken a sweat. Two formidable First Realm vampires, dead without a whisper.

He turned to look at his opponent, but the Wiry Samurai had already scrambled twenty feet away, resembling a frightened rabbit more than a martial artist.