WUUUUU!

A sharp sound pierced the air, making everyone freeze. Both the blood servants and the man in sunglasses were momentarily stunned. What was that sound?

Breathing?

But what kind of breath could cause such a disruption? What kind of lungs could draw in so much air with such force?

In the next moment, it became clear.

The man planted his right foot firmly into the ground, and an immense surge of power rippled through his body. His leg tensed, pushing back slightly, and then—BOOM—an explosive force erupted from him.

Waves of scorching heat radiated in all directions, sweeping over the room like flames. Even the cold-blooded vampires, normally indifferent to temperature, winced at the sudden, intense heat.

Under their stunned and bewildered gazes, the man grinned.

He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and lifted it high.

Boom!

A deafening explosion rocked the room as the man transformed into a blazing firestorm, tearing through the nightclub like a dragon. In a matter of seconds, he moved through the tightly packed blood servants, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

Scarlet sparks scattered as he reappeared at the entrance behind the blood servants. With a swift motion, he swung the cross sword, sending embers flying.

For a moment, everything seemed frozen. Then—thud—all the blood servants' heads dropped to the ground simultaneously, and their bodies ignited like kerosene-soaked barrels. The nightclub was filled with screams of despair as the fiery blaze consumed them, turning each one into ash. The once-crowded room was now eerily empty.

"What the hell just happened?"

The man in sunglasses, who had been prepared to start his own killing spree, was dumbfounded. His usually cold demeanor cracked as disbelief spread across his dark-skinned face. There had been hundreds of blood servants in the nightclub. While they weren't a match for him, they were more than enough to overwhelm ordinary people. It would've taken him time to wipe them all out.

Yet, in the blink of an eye, they were all gone. And what was that flame?

A mutant, perhaps?

For the first time in a long while, the man, Eric Brooks felt a genuine interest stir within him as he looked at this stranger.

As Eric watched the man leave the nightclub, he cracked his neck and decided to follow. He paid no attention to the chaotic screams of the crowd, who had just narrowly escaped death.

Outside, the nearby streetlights barely flickered, casting dim shadows over the alley. Eric saw the man preparing to mount a motorcycle. Approaching him, Eric stumbled a bit and called out, "Hey, are you a vampire hunter?"

The man, already seated on his motorcycle with his sword placed carefully beside him, looked over. "No," he replied simply.

Under the faint streetlights, Eric could finally get a good look at the man. He was young, neither white nor black, but had distinct Eastern European features.

"Sergei," the man introduced himself, extending his hand.

"Eric Brooks," Brooks responded, shaking Sergei's hand firmly.

Sergei had been sent by Leon. Although he didn't fully understand why Leon needed a blood sample from a real vampire, he wasn't one to ask too many questions. His job was to carry out the mission. Leon had provided them with some basic intel, but they were largely on their own for tracking down the rest—part mission, part experience-building.

Sergei could tell that Eric, the man in front of him, knew a lot about vampires.

"So, what are your next plans?" Eric asked bluntly, his tone direct and to the point.

Sergei could sense that Brooks wasn't the best at small talk, but it didn't bother him. He appreciated the straightforwardness, and there was no reason to hide his intentions either.

"The woman mentioned the Century Building as the vampire headquarters," Sergei said, his sentence trailing off. Eric's eyes lit up beneath his sunglasses, ready to respond, but before he could speak, Sergei had already revved the engine of his motorcycle. The exhaust roared as Sergei sped down the street, leaving only a parting line.

"Good night, Mr. Eric."

Watching Sergei disappear into the distance, Eric didn't hesitate. His hatred for vampires flared as he walked over to a classic sports car parked nearby. Starting the engine, he quickly set off in the same direction—toward the Century Building.

Meanwhile, inside the Century Building, the vampires partied, unaware that death was fast approaching. They reveled in the blood and music, completely oblivious to the disaster headed their way.

Ten minutes later, Sergei arrived at the Century Building, located in the northernmost part of the Bronx. The clock struck ten, and the area buzzed with life as people enjoyed the night around the block. Sergei parked his motorcycle on the side of the road, resting one foot on the ground. He looked up at the towering seventy or eighty-story building. With his sharp hearing, he could catch the faint sounds of raucous celebration from the top floor.

Weng!

Without warning, Sergei activated his Observation Haki. Instantly, the entire building's auras flooded his mind. He could sense every single presence, each one distinctly human. But then, there were the cold, predatory breaths—those of the vampires.

With determination, Sergei dismounted his motorcycle, grabbed his cross sword, and began walking toward the entrance of the building, each step deliberate and measured.

The building was luxurious, and naturally, it was guarded. Several armed security guards noticed Sergei approaching with a cross sword in hand. Instantly, their faces turned serious. Drawing their guns, one of them shouted, "Hey! This isn't a place for you! Get out now!"

As one of the guards reached for his radio to call for backup, a flash of fire appeared in front of his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Sergei, who had been dozens of meters away, vanished. When he reappeared, he was behind them.

The guards remained in their original positions, seemingly frozen in time. A faint, fiery red line traced across their necks before they even realized what had happened. Without a sound, their bodies ignited and crumbled to ashes, sparks scattering into the air.

These security guards weren't human—they were blood servants.

Their guns clattered to the ground, but the surrounding crowds remained oblivious. Unaware of the danger unfolding, no one noticed the deadly encounter.

Sergei strode confidently into the building, his cross sword gleaming in his grip.

Ten seconds later, the building erupted with the sounds of gunfire and roaring chaos. The nearby blocks were soon filled with alarms as the commotion spread through the area.

"Enemy invasion! Kill him immediately! Alert the master!"

…

The top floor of the Century Building was brightly lit even at night. Under the rooftop swimming pool, a group of elegantly dressed women—some in suits, others in revealing dresses and swimsuits—lined up with goblets filled with the fresh blood of eighteen-year-olds.

In the center of the party, a man in a white shirt with an open collar, revealing a tattoo, sat with a beautiful white woman on his lap. The atmosphere was one of luxurious indulgence, a typical blood party for the noble vampire clan.

Suddenly, the revelry was shattered by gunshots and explosions, jolting the vampires from their pleasure. Panic spread through the crowd.

The tattooed man stood up abruptly and roared to regain control. "Silence! Look at yourselves—flustered over such trivial matters. You've lost the elegance and composure of our noble clan!"

At that moment, hurried footsteps approached, and a vampire in a suit leaned in to Reddick and whispered, "Mr. Reddick, the building is under attack. There's only one intruder, but he's incredibly strong. Our blood servant warriors couldn't resist him; he's already made it to the 40th floor."

"Who is it? Could it be Blade?" Reddick's shock was evident. How could someone have breached forty floors so quickly? Was this person even human? Were his blood servants nothing more than helpless victims?

"No, from the appearance of the intruder, he seems to be Eastern European," the vampire said, pulling out a tablet. The screen showed real-time surveillance footage.

Nearby, several vampire men and women, who were friends of Reddick and belonged to the same social circle, approached. "Reddick, what's going on?" they asked, confused and concerned.

Reddick barely acknowledged them, his attention fixed on the surveillance screen. His eyes twitched with anxiety as he watched the footage.

What he saw was horrifying: a wave of red flames surged through the stairwell, where blood servants, heavily armed and ready, were trying to defend their position. But each time the flames flashed across the screen, his blood servants turned to ash, their efforts utterly futile.

The escape passage was in ruins; the stairs had collapsed, and everything was charred black from the flames. Finally, it dawned on Reddick why the intruder had broken through to the fortieth floor at such a terrifying speed. In just a blink, they had already reached the tenth floor.

"Damn it, who the hell is this Eastern European bastard?" Reddick muttered, feeling a cold wave of fear wash over him.

As a vampire, his senses were several times, even ten times sharper than those of humans. To him, the speed of bullets leaving a gun's muzzle appeared slowed down by tenfold. With his enhanced physique, dodging firearms was usually child's play.

But now, despite these heightened senses, he couldn't even register how fast this intruder was moving. There was no doubt that this individual was far stronger than any of the vampire warriors present. An inexplicable fear gripped his heart.

Worse still, the weapons the intruder carried seemed capable of killing vampires.

Panic surged within Reddick. He spun around and shouted to his men, "Call in all the vampire warriors! Use every weapon we have to stop him!"

After a deep breath, he turned to his friends, who were casting him dissatisfied looks.

"The party's over. We need to leave. Now."

A few of them still seemed reluctant to agree, but after seeing the grim expression on Reddick's face, they realized just how dangerous the situation was. Silently, they nodded in agreement.

Only then did Reddick's tense expression relax slightly.

Under the protection of the vampire warriors, the group made their way up the passage toward the rooftop. A helicopter was waiting for them there.

However, just as they reached the stairwell, a red glow illuminated the space ahead. Though no one had appeared yet, the violent, fiery energy felt like a volcanic eruption. The intense heat, like the scorching sun, made all the vampires uneasy.

But what truly terrified them was the smell of sulfur and death in the air.

Boom!

Four streams of fire exploded at the entrance of the passage, roaring like dragons and engulfing everything in flames. The vampires, frozen in fear, could only stand still. Only the loyal vampire warriors reacted, drawing their guns and pointing them at the figure standing amidst the flames. They opened fire.

Ta! Ta! Ta!

Bullets rained down like a heavy storm, but the figure's right hand moved slightly, and with a sharp ding and a shower of sparks, every bullet was deflected with effortless precision.

The shooting stopped when the magazines emptied. The vortex of flames dissipated, revealing Sergei. He tilted his head slightly, scanning the faces on the rooftop. His gaze lingered momentarily on the scantily clad women with striking figures. It was hard not to notice—after all, no one of average looks would be seen in a place like this.

Sergei, still an adolescent, couldn't help but be briefly affected by the scene before him. But the overpowering stench of decay and the coldness in the air quickly made him feel nauseous. In an instant, his flickering gaze steadied. His eyes eventually settled on Reddick and the other vampires surrounded by several vampire warriors.

The situation was clear—it led to obvious conclusions. Furthermore, with his heightened senses, Sergei could tell that these vampires were high-ranking members of their clan.

"Who are you? Do you know what you're doing?" Reddick, sensing that Sergei hadn't attacked immediately, tried to speak, hoping to negotiate. But Sergei cut him off before he could finish.

"I'm not interested in killing you," Sergei said flatly, pulling out a special injection tube from his pocket. "I just need your blood. If you give me a vial, you won't die."

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

His mission was simple: collect blood. He had no real interest in slaughtering vampires unless they crossed a line. His actions were guided by a vague sense of punishing evil and promoting good, depending on his mood. Leon's subtle influence had instilled some moral restraint in him, though it wasn't particularly strong.

"Impossible," Reddick hissed, though fear gripped him. The pride of the vampire clan wouldn't allow him to retreat in such a humiliating way, especially with his friends watching. To give in would mean disgrace for the clan, punishment by the council, and possibly even expulsion from his family.

"A bunch of fools who don't know how to make a choice."

…

Sergei sighed, his expression growing serious as his eyes narrowed.

Bang!

In an instant, a vortex of fire erupted, and Sergei appeared right in front of Reddick. His imposing presence was overwhelming, leaving Reddick and his companions in stunned silence. They barely had time to react before the vampire warriors around them were reduced to ashes, one after another.

Reddick finally moved, his hands morphing into razor-sharp claws as he slashed toward Sergei. But in the blink of an eye, the flash of Sergei's sword cut through the air.

A sharp pain shot through Reddick, and he let out an involuntary scream.

"Ahhh!"

Both of his hands, along with his forearms, had been severed cleanly. The wounds were impossibly smooth, leaving Reddick trembling in disbelief.

Seeing Sergei's devastating power, the vampires behind Reddick hesitated. Though they gritted their teeth, ready to attack, one cold glance from Sergei froze them in place, paralyzed by fear. They dared not move.

Sergei, holding his sword upside down in his right hand, reached into his left pocket and pulled out a syringe, preparing to draw blood from Reddick. But just then, other vampire warriors on the rooftop sprang into action. Fear lingered in their eyes, but their vampire instincts drove them to fight for Reddick.

Bang!

A bullet cut through the air, aimed at Sergei's temple. He dodged it with a slight tilt of his head, then straightened up, his expression darkening with displeasure.

"Seems I shouldn't have tried to take the easy way out," he muttered, his voice low and filled with murderous intent.

He returned the syringe to his pocket. With a powerful stomp of his right foot, Sergei vanished in a flash of red fire, the sudden gust of air ruffling Reddick's hair.

Sergei had made up his mind—he would kill every vampire on the rooftop delaying his mission, whether man or woman.

A scream pierced the air as Sergei charged like a tiger down the mountain, heading straight for the vampire warriors. Though they were terrified, the warriors gritted their teeth, ready for a desperate fight.

Slash!

A flash of red sword light, and the head of the first vampire warrior was severed, turning into ashes. Without a moment's pause, Sergei rushed toward the second one, who desperately fired his weapon, but Sergei's ghost-like movements easily dodged the bullets. With a swift grip on the vampire's hair, Sergei plunged his sword into the warrior's heart, as cold and final as death itself. He pulled the sword out, ignoring the twitching, burning remains, and advanced toward the next.

The death feast had begun.

The vampire warriors moved quickly, trying to use their numbers and speed to slow him down, but Sergei's speed was unmatched. His fiery presence left them no chance to escape.

Realizing the futility of fleeing, the vampire women screamed and charged at him, desperation in their eyes. But they were merely moths flying into the flames.

"Kill him! Tear him apart with our speed and numbers!" they shouted, but their efforts were futile.

On the rooftop, it was chaos—figures darting like shadows, bullets and blood flying in all directions. Sergei became a flaming tiger, dragging a long trail of red fire, tearing through the crowd. His flame engulfed both men and women alike, leaving nothing but despair in his wake.

In less than thirty seconds, the gunfire, screams, and roars ceased. All that remained were piles of black ash, drifting away on the wind. The luxurious rooftop party had transformed into a scene of pure death.

Reddick and the few remaining purebloods stood trembling, their faces twisted in fear.

"You... are you a monster?" Reddick stammered, staring at Sergei as he approached. He couldn't believe his eyes. How could anyone possess such terrifying power? That crushing speed and strength—this wasn't something a human should have.

Sergei ignored the question. Without wasting time, he stepped up to Reddick, who had completely lost his will to fight. He pulled out a syringe and injected it straight into Reddick's heart. The vampire didn't dare to resist or even speak.

Once the syringe filled with blood, Sergei pulled it out, pocketing it swiftly. Looking at the trembling vampires around him, he asked coldly, "Which faction are you from?"

"We... we're all affiliated with the Council of Elders, covering the entire Western world," Reddick blurted, sensing the gravity of the question. He immediately mentioned the Elders, hoping to deter Sergei from any rash actions.

Sergei seemed intrigued for a moment. "The Council of Elders, huh? Impressive." He hesitated, clearly considering his next move.

"Well, this complicates things," he muttered. His original plan had been simple—wipe out Reddick and his group, but the mention of a powerful faction made him reconsider. He didn't want to kill Reddick, only to have the Council come after him for revenge later. It wasn't that he feared them, but Sergei hated unnecessary complications.

Still, the name Council of Elders was now firmly etched in Sergei's mind.

Boom!

Just as Sergei was thinking about how to get information from the terrified Reddick regarding the Council of Elders, heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs. A tall, muscular Black man with a flat-top haircut, wearing a black trench coat and sunglasses, entered. He had a sword strapped to his back—Eric Brooks had arrived.

Reddick and the other vampires immediately recognized him. Fear and hatred filled their eyes as one name raced through their minds.

"Blade? You're that damned vampire killer!" Reddick shouted. At first, it sounded like a question, but the second half was a clear statement.

Blade—Eric Brooks—had appeared out of nowhere a few years ago. While the vampires called themselves nobles or, to Blade, they were nothing more than vampires. His relentless hunting had made him infamous, wiping out entire vampire families with no discrimination between men or women, high-born or low-born.

To powerful factions like the Council of Elders, Blade's actions were an annoyance, hardly worth their attention. But for families like Reddick's—big enough to feel the sting, but not powerful enough to retaliate—Blade was a nightmare.

Blade looked over the rooftop with indifference, taking in the scene: bodies turned to ash, the air thick with the smell of burnt flesh, and the luxurious party turned into a battlefield. He glanced at Reddick and the other vampires briefly before turning his gaze to Sergei.

The shock in Blade's eyes was undeniable—a rare expression for someone like him.

…

As Blade stood there, his half-vampire nature gave him immense strength and endurance. He was a force to be reckoned with in combat, and over the years, he had cut through vampires like they were nothing more than chickens. But as he observed the destruction around him—the scorched, shattered stairs and the ashes of countless vampires—he realized something unsettling. Compared to the man standing before him, he was outmatched.

The massacre had happened in mere minutes. Sergei had torn through a fully armed vampire stronghold with terrifying efficiency, leaving nothing but ruin in his wake. Blade knew strength when he saw it, and this guy was on a whole different level.

"Cool nickname," Sergei commented, breaking Blade's train of thought. His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge of coldness, his gaze locking on Reddick and the others with murderous intent.

Reddick, sensing the impending doom, panicked. His voice cracked as he desperately shouted, "You can't kill me! The leader of the Vampire clan won't let you go! When the great Vampire God descends, you'll die without a trace!"

Sergei's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening with curiosity. "Vampire God?"

Sergei's eyes gleamed as he raised his right hand, pressing the sharp edge of the cross sword against Reddick's throat. "Tell me more about this 'Vampire God,'" he demanded.

"Vampire God?" Blade, standing nearby, looked just as intrigued. He stepped forward, grabbing Reddick by the collar and lifting him off the ground. "Is the Vampire God you're talking about the same one I found in the Book of Death? Tell me!" His voice was a thunderous roar.

Reddick's face twisted in despair, realizing he had let something slip. He knew that even if he survived this encounter, his betrayal of the vampire clan would lead to dire consequences for him and his family. Looking at Blade with hopeless eyes, he muttered, "Sunwalker, you will see the day when the Vampire God rises, and you'll die along with the rest."

With a last surge of desperation, Reddick and his remaining allies launched a final attack. Blade, quick as ever, dodged effortlessly. Drawing his silver sword, he swept through them with lethal precision. It was as if he were cutting down crops, slicing his enemies in half, their bodies bursting into flames and crumbling to ash.

Blade stared coldly at the remains, lost in thought.

"Nice job. Good night, Blade," Sergei said with a hint of amusement. Watching Blade finish off Reddick and the others didn't bother him. After a brief look, Sergei turned and casually walked toward the stairs, leaving those words behind.

Blade watched Sergei disappear into the stairwell, his eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion beneath his sunglasses.

Blade replayed Reddick's final words in his mind, along with the haunted look in his eyes. He had a strong feeling that a conspiracy was unfolding—and somehow, he was at the center of it.

"The Book of the Dead... Vampire God."

Standing there for a minute, Blade could hear the faint sounds of sirens and helicopters approaching from a few streets away. Deciding it was time to go, he turned and left.

On the cobblestone road outside a New York manor, the iron gate opened automatically as Sergei rode his motorcycle up to the house. Parking it outside, he propped it up, casually hanging his helmet on the front.

Several maids came to the door, greeting him with respectful bows. Sergei nodded in acknowledgment and walked inside.

In the lavish hall, Leon sat on a sofa, focused on something in his notebook.

"Boss," Sergei said, taking a seat on the couch next to Leon. A glass of juice had already been prepared for him, and he downed it in one go.

After finishing, Sergei pulled the syringe filled with vampire blood from his pocket and handed it to Leon.

"All taken care of."

Leon, unsurprised by the result, placed the syringe aside and closed his notebook, setting it on the table. Leaning back on the sofa with his legs crossed, he turned to Sergei with a slight smirk. "How did it go?"

"Pretty standard," Sergei replied, knowing exactly what Leon was asking. "Blood servants are stronger than regular people, with some special abilities. Pure-blooded vampires are on a different level, though. Their senses, strength, and speed are way beyond that of ordinary humans. And if you're not using a weapon made of specific materials, even bullets won't kill them. But, that's all there is to it."

Sergei paused, thinking. Vampires have impressive individual and group combat abilities, but their bloodline makes them puppets, bound to the will of those above them. It wasn't surprising that these vampires had managed to stay hidden within the human world, operating in the shadows. They blended in well.

It was easy to figure out that beyond the vampires' ability to conceal themselves, they likely had help—wealthy businessmen, and possibly even high-ranking government officials. Even if these allies weren't vampires themselves, they were probably connected.

After all, the appeal of immortality is undeniable. No matter how powerful or rich someone is, after a hundred years, they end up in the same place as everyone else—a pile of dust. It wasn't hard to imagine that people in power would crave a lifespan longer than the average person.

"So, the vampires throw these rooftop blood parties out in the open," Sergei continued, "because they have protection. Powerful people covering for them."

He thought of the countless people who go missing or die every year—whether in accidents, murders, or from illnesses. To those in power, it's just data. Just numbers.

And if something can become just data, then it can be manipulated. Changing the numbers or covering things up would be easy. But Sergei wasn't particularly concerned about that. He could let the vampires go on as if nothing happened, turning a blind eye. However, if he ever saw a vampire harming innocent people, his conscience might step in.

Being compassionate isn't a flaw, but it comes with a heavy price. After all he's been through, Sergei preferred a simpler life. His real concerns were Leon, the Maximoff twins, and their extended family. That's what mattered.

To protect his family and avoid future trouble, Sergei had considered hunting down and killing the high-ranking vampires, sending a message to their entire clan. He shared this thought with Leon.

Leon, ever calm, waved it off. "Do whatever you want. Think of it as an extracurricular activity—just to pass the time."

Vampires may have a lot of influence and connections, but Leon didn't care about them at all. To him, they were just an insignificant race of undead. If it weren't for their supernatural resilience, even the human government could've wiped them out by now.

"They're just a nuisance," Leon added. "A little practice for you, Sergei."

…

Sergei had a relatively enjoyable evening. After all, the group he had taken down wasn't weak, and that added to his satisfaction. Feeling content, he asked the butler to bring some snacks and fruit. He had a game to finish tonight.

Meanwhile, Leon was holding a syringe filled with vampire blood and called Keisha.

"Keisha, analyze the blood," he instructed.

"Yes, Captain Leon. Beginning analysis," Keisha responded.

"The blood contains 317 specific viral combinations. It's not contagious, but it has strong phagocytic and fusion properties, making it highly compatible with human blood. Once infected, transformation occurs within half an hour, with a level of consciousness still under domination."

Keisha continued, "The blood can transform human bones, internal organs, and enhance sensory capabilities. Extracting a small portion of the genome, the evolutionary process is back-calculating... 10%, 20%, 30%, 50%, 100%."

"The most primitive genome has been deduced: an unknown genome with traits of a first-generation divine body and some characteristics of a second-generation divine body."

"Shall I upload the genome sequence to the database?" Keisha asked.

"Upload," Leon commanded.

"Upload successful."

The Sky Blade No. 7's computer calculated the evolutionary efficiency at a shockingly fast rate. The primitive bloodline of the vampire displayed divine body traits. In comparison to angelic civilization, their divine bodies might be considered lower-level, but for ordinary races, a divine body was already terrifying. It could even withstand nuclear bomb blasts without harm.

Given that an ancestor-level vampire could possess such power, it wasn't entirely surprising.

In short, if Leon wanted, he could now use the Sky Blade No. 7 to initiate a genetic modification project, transplanting the genes of the vampire ancestors into humans. But it wasn't worth it.

The vampire ancestors were certainly powerful, but only to a point. In the grand scheme of things, compared to the gods and other powerful races in the universe, the vampires' abilities paled in comparison. The upper limits of vampire genes were too low.

With so many better options available, why settle for less? It would be like tossing away a watermelon to pick up sesame seeds—a foolish move.

However, the vampire genes did have their perks. By collecting genetic material from other mid-tier races, Sky Blade No. 7 could deduce new sequences. This time, Leon wouldn't use the top-tier genes for Wanda and her crew, but they could be useful for building an army or training warriors.

Too bad Odin wasn't dead yet. If he were, Leon would have had Sky Blade No. 7 search for dimensional coordinates to places like Jotunheim and other realms. Those places housed plenty of strong beings and races worth considering.

As Leon pondered these thoughts, the sound of playful laughter caught his attention. He turned to see Alina, Polina, and Clarice running into the room, panting from exertion. The three little ones, faces flushed with energy, lined up and stared curiously at Leon and Sergei, their big eyes full of questions.

Leon and Sergei couldn't help but smile.

"So, what's up?" Leon asked, noticing the beads of sweat on their foreheads. He could tell they'd been running wild—no surprise, given that their stamina far surpassed that of any grown man.

But he was more intrigued by their current expressions.

"What does a vampire look like? Aren't they supposed to be beautiful and elegant?" one of them asked, eyes wide.

"Is it like in The Vampire Diaries?" another chimed in.

It turned out the three little ones had recently watched an American TV show about vampires. The show portrayed vampires as living elegant and refined lives, where every vampire was portrayed as handsome and beautiful. So when they heard that Sergei had encountered vampires, their curiosity got the better of them. While playing outside, they overheard the servants talking about Sergei's return, and they rushed back to ask him about it.

After all, no matter how precocious they were, little girls still had dreams of a pure and beautiful kind of love—something platonic and romantic. But Sergei wasted no time in crushing their illusions.

"Believe me," he said, "it's nothing like that. Behind their so-called refined lives are ugly, dirty, and corrupt hearts."

The harsh reality left the three little ones visibly disappointed.

Leon, amused, ruffled their hair and added, "Just look at the pictures. No matter how elegant or refined they seem, at the end of the day, vampires are nothing more than blood-sucking bats. When they feed, their true, hideous faces show."

"Even among themselves, it's all about conspiracies, manipulation, and power plays."

Alina pouted, clearly not thrilled with this new information. But then Leon noticed something.

"Wait, where's Pushkin? Isn't he usually with you?" Leon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Polina huffed in annoyance. "No, he said he's a man now and wants to be strong like you and Sergei. He's decided to train hard and said that he can't waste time playing with us anymore."

Pushkin's sudden declaration that he had grown up and needed to focus on becoming a warrior had hurt the three little girls deeply. They had always been inseparable friends, but two days ago, Pushkin announced he couldn't play with them anymore, saying it would weaken his fighting spirit.

The three little ones had nearly teamed up to beat him up for saying that.

"Haha, it seems our little man has finally grown up," Leon chuckled, but when he noticed the dissatisfied looks from the three little ones, he quickly added, "But of course, what he did was a bit ungraceful. A real man shouldn't act that way, and he deserves a little criticism."

"Leon's right," the three little ones nodded in agreement, feeling vindicated. They weren't necessarily going to scold Pushkin, but in this playful moment, they wanted Leon to show that he was on their side.

Even though their illusions had been shattered, the girls were still in high spirits. After all, it wasn't enough to ruin their good mood. They dashed to the refrigerator, grabbed a big ice cream cake, and ran back out, full of energy.

Their joyful shouts filled the manor with life and laughter. As Leon leaned back on the sofa, watching them with a fond smile, his heart brimmed with affection for the three little ones.