Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, in England, one of the Inquisition's headquarters was.
"Let me see if I understand..." A woman with olive skin, long blond hair, and green eyes, a cigarette in her mouth, speaks with a tired expression. She raises her hand to her forehead, exhales a cloud of smoke, and says, "Give the order to search for and hunt down the vampire who stole the blood of Christ, right?"
"Yes," replies Della, who had been called. She had reported on her collaboration with the vampire who stole Christ's blood.
"..." The woman's expression crumbles, she sighs deeply, and leans back in her chair. "Where did it all go wrong? I just had to kill that vampire, period: not cooperate with him."
"But that vampire gave us information about the Cultists, as well as the MR9. It was an opportunity to finish them off," Della tried to justify herself, but deep down she knew she was wrong.
"..." The woman looks at her, exhaling smoke from her cigarette. "Well, did you manage to take them down?"
"Yes, we managed to destroy several branches; the leaders had escaped, and we also have information about one of the Circles of the Seven Hells."
Suddenly, someone opened the door and entered.
"Mrs. Esther, is it true that you have been collaborating with a vampire?" The man who entered spoke in a highly respectful tone.
Esther, the woman with olive skin, long blond hair, and green eyes, looked at the man who had just entered: he appeared to be 30 years old, with black hair, brown eyes, 5'9" tall, and dressed in a white priestly robe.
"Oh, David, yes, I just realized: I didn't expect to be working with a vampire to hunt cultists; it seems we're not as competent as we used to be."
David looked at Esther with a specific expression and, without asking any questions, said, "Do you want me to report this to the Vatican?"
"Yes, and haven't you received any reports from D?" Esther asked.
"Yes, he's in New York; he's reported that he's about to hunt down the vampire who stole the Blood of Christ," David said without the slightest surprise. "Although D is very solitary, he's very efficient at his job."
"Yes, he's now going to report to the Vatican about a possible ritual that the cultists are preparing, called 'Black Moon.'"
David nods and leaves the room.
Esther turned her face toward Della and let out a tired sigh. "Go to Cadana; a series of disappearances has been reported; most likely some supernatural creature is involved... and report any anomalies you see," she said, pulling a new cigarette from one of the desk drawers.
"Yes, Mrs. Esther." Della bowed her head slightly and turned away, disappearing down the hallway.
When the door closed, silence filled the room. Esther took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, massaging her forehead with her fingers.
She couldn't help but wonder at what point everything had gone to hell.
"Who would think of working with a vampire who stole something so important...?" she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.
She shook her head, and his gaze drifted toward the window overlooking the illuminated city. In her eyes, the reflection of the lights seemed to burn with the same concern she felt in his chest.
...
New York.
Current location: the hospital where Lucien's mother, Carmila Ricci, was admitted.
Lucien observes the two men, who are opposites; the intense glow in his red eyes diminishes, allowing him to think with some clarity.
'I have to find a way to escape; however, with the barrier in place, it becomes even more complicated.'
With his current power, he can do nothing but endure and rely on his vampiric regeneration to stay alive.
So he has to find a way to escape. He also knows that Mayla had already escaped from hIS shadow, so his mother is momentarily safe.
In addition, he has to consider that they might call for more reinforcements or that a supernatural creature might be drawn to what is happening.
In short, no matter how much he thinks he is at a disadvantage, he cannot ask for help, since neither Selene nor Arlene has immunity to the sun as he does.
'I acted too recklessly,' Lucien sighs inwardly, but he has no regrets; his eyes begin to shine more intensely as his vampiric instincts start to take over.
He leaves the building only to see the leader of the hunters wearing authentic Templar armor; his body is bathed in a holy glow that distorts the air around him.
And the cult leader... had taken on a demonic appearance: illusory horns sprouted from his head, his legs had transformed into hooves, and his eyes burned with an unnatural red.
Multiple blood spears begin to appear around Lucien, and he spreads his wings as if marking his domain. With a wave of his hands, hundreds of spears shoot out.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
The leader of the hunters moves his sword with extreme speed, destroying each blood spear, and then disappears in a golden flash.
Lucien looks to the side and sees the hunter, puts his hands together, and creates a large sphere of blood that explodes all over his face...
Boom!
"Damn it!" The hunter covers himself to soften the impact of the blood explosion by stepping back, but Lucien appears behind him and attacks him with his vampire claws, which are blocked by the armor, producing a loud metallic sound.
Clang!
Lucien feels his hand go numb as it hits the hard armor; suddenly, he feels a sharp pain in his stomach and is sent flying.
Boom!
"Ugh..." Lucien coughs up a mouthful of blood as he tries to get up, but he sees a hoof for a second and dodges it, which buries itself deep into the wall, not wasting the opportunity.
Multiple blood projectiles shoot out of the ground, completely severing the leg of the cult leader, who shows no reaction whatsoever.
But he is punched by the hunter leader who had appeared behind him, sending him spinning around.
Lucien rolls across the asphalt, his body covered in wounds, but they heal quickly as the gleam in his eyes fades completely.
The five minutes he could remain in that state had already passed. Because if he exceeds that, he will most likely turn into a creature of blood.
"Shit..." Lucien staggered to his feet, breathing heavily, his vision clouded by exhaustion. Every muscle ached... he was at his limit, both physically and mentally.
And he knew it: he was in a predicament from which he might not escape.
Blood began to pool between his fingers.
First, a drop.
Then two.
Then, a puddle suspended in the air.
In a matter of seconds, the mass grew to the size of a soccer ball... and continued to expand, pulsing like a living organ. Its shape distorted, heavy, brutal, until it reached the proportions of a damn meteorite.
Lucien clenched his teeth tightly, veins bulging in his neck as he desperately squeezed all that blood. The sphere trembled, resisting, spilling reddish vapors.
Until, finally...
It shrank to the size of a simple tennis ball!
A small sphere... but charged with all its remaining energy.
It had cost him everything. Literally everything.
It was a suicide attack.
Lucien raised his hand.
And, with an almost calm gesture, too quiet for what it meant, he dropped the sphere.
The blood descended slowly, as if time had fractured around it.
One second.
Another.
Until the small sphere touched the asphalt.
...and exploded.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!!