The morning after his ascension, Vicky Thorne did something that seemed utterly insane to his lieutenants: he went to college.
He didn't have to. As the sole owner of Nightwatch Holdings, a multi-billion-dollar corporation that now controlled a significant portion of Veros's economy, the idea of attending an undergraduate engineering lecture was absurd. As the Progenitor of the Crimson Pact, a rapidly growing army of vampires, it was a laughable waste of his precious time. And as a Level 31 Blood Dragon Vampire Knight, a being who could tear down the entire university with a single, focused breath of Blood Fire, it was like a lion choosing to sit in a cage full of mice.
But Vicky understood something that his followers, still grappling with their newfound immortality, did not: the greatest power was not just the ability to destroy, but the ability to control the narrative. His public persona—the brilliant, reclusive, and unexpectedly philanthropic student Vicky Thorne—was a crucial piece of armor. It was the camouflage that allowed his empire to grow in the shadows, the misdirection that kept the wider world from looking too closely at the monster in their midst.
He chose his attire with the same meticulous care he used to plan a military strike. Not the bespoke, armored suits he wore for business, but the uniform of the wealthy elite student: a simple, impeccably tailored black cashmere sweater, dark designer jeans, and a pair of limited-edition sneakers that cost more than a professor's monthly salary. On his wrist, a Patek Philippe watch served as a quiet testament to his status—a whisper of wealth, not a shout.
The final touch was the car. He walked into the climate-controlled garage beneath The Vault, a cavern filled with exotic machinery that would make a collector weep. He bypassed the aggressive lines of the McLaren and the stately elegance of the Rolls-Royce. Today required something different. Something that was both a statement and a weapon.
His choice: a Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut. A hypercar so rare and so powerful it was practically a myth. Its liquid-graphite body seemed to absorb the light, its lines were a study in aerodynamic aggression. When he thumbed the ignition, the engine didn't roar; it awoke with a thunderclap, a deep, guttural snarl that was part machine, part beast. It was the perfect vehicle for a Blood Dragon.
Driving through the streets of Veros, Vicky felt the city in a way he never had before. His enhanced senses, amplified by his Blood Dragon Presence, turned the mundane world into a symphony of information. He could hear conversations in other cars as he passed them, the words faint but clear. He could see the stress fractures in the asphalt, the individual pollen grains drifting in the morning air. He could feel the collective pulse of the city—the hurried, anxious heartbeats of millions of humans rushing to their meaningless jobs, and beneath it all, the slower, stronger, hungrier pulse of the supernatural world. He could sense the locations of his own followers, each one a steady, loyal point of light on his mental map. And he could sense other things, too—dark, cold spots where other supernatural creatures lurked, hidden from mortal eyes.
When he arrived on campus, the effect was exactly as he'd intended. The Koenigsegg, a machine that looked like it had been sent back from the future, created a vortex of silence and awe. Students stopped in their tracks, their phones immediately coming out to capture a picture of the automotive unicorn. The security guards, who would have ticketed any other car parked in the fire lane, simply stood and stared, their minds unable to process what they were seeing. Vicky's Blood Dragon Presence, suppressed to a near-imperceptible level, still projected an aura of absolute authority. It told them, on a primal, subconscious level, that this car and its owner were not to be challenged.
He stepped out of the car, and the whispers began.
"That's him… that's Vicky Thorne."
"Is that a Koenigsegg? I've never even seen one in person."
"I heard he donated a million dollars to the engineering department last month."
"He looks… different. More intense."
Vicky ignored them all, walking through the crowd as if parting water. He could feel their emotions—awe, envy, fear, and for some, a desperate, sycophantic desire to be noticed by him. He was no longer just a student; he was a campus deity, a mythical figure who appeared and disappeared at will, his life a mystery that everyone wanted to solve.
He walked into the engineering building, the scent of old books, chalk dust, and stale coffee assaulting his heightened senses. He passed the lecture hall where he had once sat, a broke, heartbroken boy dreaming of revenge against Damien Vance. It felt like a lifetime ago. He was a different being now, a different species. That boy was dead, and in his place stood a king.
His destination was Professor Albright's office. The old man was the head of the Advanced Materials department, a brilliant but perpetually underfunded academic. Vicky had, through one of Mila's charitable foundations, donated three million dollars to his research lab last week. Now, it was time to collect the goodwill from that investment.
He didn't knock. He simply opened the door and walked in.
Professor Albright, a man in his late sixties with a halo of white hair, looked up from a complex equation scrawled on his whiteboard, his eyes filled with irritation at the interruption. The irritation vanished the moment he saw Vicky. It was replaced by a sudden, flustered deference.
"Mr. Thorne! I… I wasn't expecting you," the professor stammered, fumbling to put down his marker.
"Professor," Vicky said, his voice calm and level. He subtly used his Mind Control, not to dominate, but to plant a simple suggestion: You are happy to see me. You feel a deep sense of gratitude and respect for me.
The effect was instantaneous. Professor Albright's posture straightened, his expression warming into a genuine, beaming smile. "Please, come in, come in! I was just reviewing the preliminary results from the new spectrometer your foundation so generously provided. The data is… it's revolutionary, my boy! Absolutely revolutionary! We're seeing quantum-level material stresses we never even knew existed!"
"I'm glad it's proving useful," Vicky said, his eyes scanning the equations on the board. With his enhanced intelligence, he understood the complex physics in an instant. It was child's play. "I was hoping I could trouble you for a small favor."
"Anything! Anything at all, son. What do you need?"
"I've been… away on business," Vicky said, the lie smooth and practiced. "I'll be missing the next few weeks of lectures as well. I need to ensure my academic standing remains pristine. I'll need you to approve my absence and provide me with the materials to study independently. I will, of course, complete all required examinations upon my return."
"Of course, of course! Not a problem at all!" the professor said, already moving to his computer. "A mind like yours shouldn't be constrained by a rigid lecture schedule. I'll clear it with the dean's office myself. Consider it done. You focus on your… business. We'll handle the paperwork."
"Thank you, Professor," Vicky said. He turned to leave, then paused at the door. "And if your research uncovers anything… unusual… any materials that defy conventional physics, I would be very interested in being the first to know."
He planted another suggestion with his Mind Control: You will share any groundbreaking discoveries with me before you share them with anyone else. It is a matter of both personal loyalty and national security.
Professor Albright nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with purpose. "You'll be my first call, Mr. Thorne. Absolutely. Some things are too important for peer-reviewed journals."
Vicky left the office, a faint smile playing on his lips. The professor would never know that his mind had been gently manipulated. He would simply believe he was acting out of gratitude and a sense of patriotic duty. It was so easy. The world of humans, with their pliable minds and predictable emotions, was a toy box for a being like him.
He walked out of the building and back to his car, the crowd of students parting for him once again. He had reinforced his cover, planted a seed for future technological acquisition, and reminded himself of the vast, cavernous gap between what he was and what the world perceived him to be.
The first part of his day was complete. Now, it was time for the second. It was time to meet the FBI.
He drove back to The Vault, the Koenigsegg a blur of motion through city traffic. When he arrived, Marcus was waiting for him in the command center, a grim expression on his face. Mila was on the holographic display, her image sharp and clear from her office in the financial district.
"The meeting is set, Master," Marcus reported. "Two hours from now. The Grand Veridian restaurant, on the top floor of the Atlas Tower. A very public, very exclusive location."
"Perfect," Vicky said. "Let them feel secure in the crowd. What's the latest on Dr. Chen?"
Mila's image flickered as she brought up a file. "Dr. Sarah Chen. Age 36. PhDs in Criminology and Parapsychology. Top of her class at MIT. Recruited by DARPA straight out of her post-doc program. She spent five years working on… well, we don't know what she worked on. Her project files are classified at a level I can't crack, even with our resources. She was transferred to the FBI to head this new task force six months ago."
"Strengths?" Vicky asked.
"She's a profiler," Mila said. "She doesn't look for evidence; she looks for patterns. She's brilliant at connecting disparate events. The financial collapse of Vance Holdings, the sudden rise of Nightwatch Holdings, the disappearance of a dozen Silent Dragon enforcers, the anomalous energy readings from your evolution—to a normal investigator, they're all separate cases. To her, they're chapters in the same book."
"Weaknesses?"
"She's driven by an almost pathological need to understand things that don't make sense," Mila replied. "It's a professional strength, but also a personal vulnerability. She will take risks to get answers. She's also… alone. No family, no close friends. Her work is her entire life. That makes her dedicated, but also isolated."
"And her team?"
"As our intelligence suggested, the agents with her in Veros are Bronze Tier equivalents at best. Capable, well-trained humans who have been given some minor supernatural enhancements and advanced weaponry. They're dangerous to a low-level vampire, but to you? They're irrelevant. They'll have sniper teams and surveillance in place, but they won't risk a public confrontation."
Vicky processed the information. A brilliant, obsessive investigator with no personal attachments and a team of enhanced but ultimately outmatched agents. This meeting wasn't an ambush. It was a test. An interview. Chen wanted to see what she was dealing with.
"Marcus, you're with me," Vicky commanded. "Standard concealed body armor and sidearms, but no overt weaponry. We are going as civilians. A CEO and his head of security. Elias will remain here, in command of The Vault's defenses. Put the entire Crimson Pact on high alert. If this meeting goes badly, I want every FBI agent in this city to disappear before sunrise."
"Understood, Master," Marcus and Elias said in unison.
Vicky looked at Mila's image on the screen. "Mila, you will be our eye in the sky. Monitor all communications, all surveillance. I want to know if a sniper so much as adjusts his scope. I want to know if Chen's heart rate deviates from its baseline. I will be using my own abilities to read her, but I want your tactical oversight as a backup."
"I'll be watching every angle, Vicky," she said, her voice steady.
With the plan in place, Vicky and Marcus returned to the garage. This time, Vicky chose a different Koenigsegg—a Regera, a model known for its almost silent electric-hybrid engine and its obscene luxury. It was less a hypercar and more a land-based private jet. Its deep, metallic red paint shimmered under the garage lights, a perfect match for his new draconic nature.
As they settled into the car's opulent interior, Marcus broke the silence. "Master, forgive my impertinence, but what is your objective for this meeting? Are you going to negotiate? Intimidate? Eliminate her?"
Vicky pulled the car out of the garage and into the private, high-speed tunnel that connected The Vault to the city's main highway system. The car accelerated with a silent, terrifying surge of power.
"My objective," Vicky said, his eyes focused on the road ahead, "is to assert reality. Dr. Chen believes she is a government agent investigating a powerful and mysterious criminal. She believes she operates from a position of authority, backed by the laws and power of the United States. She believes she is the hunter, and I am the prey."
He merged onto the highway, the city skyline looming before them. "I am going to disabuse her of these notions. I am not a criminal to be investigated. I am a monarch. The laws of her government are irrelevant to me. The power she thinks she wields is a child's toy compared to what I command. I am not going to negotiate, Marcus. I am going to educate."
The Regera sliced through traffic, other cars seeming to move in slow motion. Vicky's senses were on fire, taking in every detail of the city—the life, the decay, the hidden currents of power. He felt the nervous energy of the FBI agents moving into position around the Atlas Tower. He felt the cold, hateful energy of a Silent Dragon safehouse two blocks away, its occupants watching, waiting. He felt the ancient, dormant power of other supernatural factions, sleeping giants who were now stirring, awakened by the birth of a new dragon in their territory.
This city was a powder keg, and he was the match.
They arrived at the Atlas Tower, a gleaming spire of glass and steel that pierced the clouds. Vicky pulled the Koenigsegg up to the front entrance, and the valets scrambled over each other, their faces a mixture of awe and terror at the sight of the impossible car.
Vicky handed the keys to the lead valet without a word, his Blood Dragon Presence washing over the man and rendering him speechless and trembling. He and Marcus walked into the marble lobby, their steps echoing in the vast space. They took a private, high-speed elevator directly to the top floor, where The Grand Veridian restaurant offered panoramic views of the entire city.
The maître d', a man accustomed to seating billionaires and celebrities, took one look at Vicky and paled, his carefully practiced composure crumbling. He immediately escorted them to the best table in the restaurant—a secluded corner booth with a commanding view of both the city and the entire dining room.
Vicky sat down, his back to the wall, and looked out the window at the city sprawled beneath him. His city.
He could feel her arrival before he saw her. Dr. Sarah Chen. Her heartbeat was calm, controlled, but there was an undercurrent of intense, focused energy. She was a predator in her own right, a hunter of a different kind.