The Duke's chilling revelation of a self-consuming, vampiric cancer—the R-variant—hung in the frigid air of the cavern. Blade, the Daywalker, allowed a sneer of pure, surgical contempt to twist his lips.
"A parasite that devours its own host, Maginos?" Blade's voice was a low, guttural rasp. "You managed to manufacture your own oblivion. It almost sounds like a beautiful cosmic joke. Maybe I should send your research department a thank you card."
He felt an unsettling, perverse kinship with the creature Chadnoma. Both of them were accidents, anomalies, products of a vampiric infection that went horribly wrong—or perhaps, horribly right, depending on one's perspective. The Grand Duke was correct: they were different breeds, outliers from the purebred vampiric norm.
Yet, Blade, with his daywalker abilities, maintained a strict, brutal code, whereas this R-variant was simply raw, evolutionary corruption. The Duke's disgust, however, was genuine, rooted in the failure of his lineage's perceived biological superiority.
"You continue to miss the devastating significance of this, Blade," Nisha countered sharply, stepping forward, her composure now a façade of brittle steel. She was still shielding her father, but her voice was directed at the true threat in the room—the armored giant who had shattered her guard.
"My father speaks of a biological catastrophe, not a theological one. This creature is the cancer of our entire species, not just your personal grievance."
She clenched her fists, the intensity making the silver tips of her claws shimmer.
"The vampires it attacks do not merely die; they are converted, they are repurposed. And they are turned into the R-variant faster than any viral spread we have ever tracked. The pureblood vampire, the centuries-old nobility—they are merely high-protein fuel for its reproduction. This is a complete systemic collapse."
Kylo Conan, seizing his moment to justify his treacherous existence, stepped beside Nisha, his voice regaining its professional, dispassionate edge.
"And the situation is exponentially more grave for the human population. The R-variant's thirst is an absolute, instantaneous biological imperative. It is the purest form of addiction. These creatures are driven by a constant, overwhelming need to feed, far surpassing the regulated, sustainable hunting habits of the traditional vampire. They are utterly consumed, bordering on a constant, blood-crazed frenzy."
He checked his 3D display, projecting the overlay of the known attack sites across a schematic of New York City.
"Chadnoma has been active for just over seventy-two hours. Based on the attack vector analysis and secondary infection patterns detected at four unique locations—subways, derelict buildings, and a known drug distribution hub—our most conservative estimate places the current R-variant population at approximately seventeen newly converted individuals."
Kylo adjusted the model, the projection spinning the terrifying numbers.
"Their rate of conversion is far faster than a standard three-day cycle. They are turning victims within minutes of a full feeding. We are looking at a potential population of hundreds of these R-types emerging within the next week, and easily over two thousand by the end of the month. They possess no Masquerade, no self-control, and no fear of exposure. The human population of New York—nearly nine million people across all five boroughs—is the largest, most densely packed blood bank in the world."
He leaned in, his eyes wide and theatrical, yet the fear behind them was real. "If we fail to intervene, how long does it take for a few thousand hyper-aggressive, constantly feeding, wildly contagious creatures to turn this city into a quarantined, sun-drenched tomb? Three months? Six? The resulting global panic, not to mention the military response, would be devastating to all non-human populations. This is an extinction event for everyone involved."
Zhou Yi felt a cold, sharp satisfaction at the precision of the threat assessment. The Duke was leveraging fear, but Kylo was leveraging mathematics. The sheer speed of the contagion presented a logistical nightmare that transcended typical vigilantism.
He turned to Blade, who was already staring at him, and both men offered a synchronized, unspoken nod of grim confirmation. The threat was verified.
Blade was the first to formalize the discussion, addressing the Duke directly, stripping away the remaining aristocratic fluff.
"Maginos," Blade said, his voice flat. "Let's cut to the true nature of this arrangement. You didn't call us here for a moral plea. You called us because you want us to eliminate the symptom of your failed evolution. You need us to hunt the beast that hunts you. Is that the deal?"
The Grand Duke, having recovered his composure, adopted an air of weary statesmanship, standing taller in his ancient robes.
"It is not a deal, Daywalker, but a pragmatic contingency," Elida stated, emphasizing the word.
"If my species retreats or is consumed, the full, immediate attention of this new threat will fall upon the unsuspecting human population. And make no mistake, the R-variants are faster, stronger, and far more numerous than any handful of typical vampires you've faced in decades. Your 'precious humans,' as you call them, will not survive. This mission is purely for mutual preservation, not my personal survival."
He paused, ensuring his eyes met Zhou Yi's visor, a direct challenge to the Dawn Knight's moral calculus.
"But I understand that trust is a commodity I do not possess with either of you. Therefore, I offer two forms of collateral to ensure my sincerity."
Elida placed his hand back on Nisha's shoulder, this time with a proprietary, heavy weight.
"First, I will commit my personal, elite tactical force—the Vampire Guard. They are a group of pureblood specialists, trained extensively in urban and covert warfare. They will provide the intelligence, the logistics, and the necessary cannon fodder for this hunt."
His gaze then swept the room, resting deliberately on Nisha.
"And second, my daughter, Nisha Maginos—the designated heir and future ruler of my Clan—will lead this Guard. Her presence is not merely tokenism; it is a guarantee. If this mission fails, or if my people betray you, her life is forfeit. I believe this demonstrates the absolute severity of the situation and the depth of our commitment to the truce."
He looked back at the black-armored figure of Zhou Yi. The fate of his entire operation rested on the Dawn Knight's decision.
A calm, resonant voice cut through the silent tension. "I agree to the terms."
Zhou Yi's acceptance was devoid of emotion or triumph; it was pure, unadulterated pragmatism. The scale of the threat, compounded by the possibility of the Grand Duke's high-value, organized Guard assisting, made the alliance necessary. He needed the infrastructure and the intelligence.
Blade, satisfied by the inclusion of the Guard and the high-value hostage, allowed a slow, predatory grin to spread across his face, revealing his elongated canines.
"Then count me in. It's been too long since I've had a proper hunting partner. Hunting vampires is my calling, even when they're hunting themselves."
"Very good," Elida said, leaning heavily against his chair, the tension finally easing enough for him to permit a breath. "Nisha, please escort our guests out. I require a moment of peace."
Nisha, her eyes burning with an intense, complex mixture of fury and shame, turned stiffly. She didn't speak. She simply issued a sharp, imperious gesture for the hunters to follow. Her anger toward Zhou Yi was now multi-layered: insult, fear, and now, the profound humiliation of being offered as collateral by her own father.
Zhou Yi, acutely aware of the emotional wreckage he had caused, said nothing. His priorities lay with Sharice's safety and the immediate threat, not the delicate ego of a blood-drinking aristocrat. He had a fleeting moment of regret for his necessary ruthlessness but quickly suppressed it.
Blade and his two lieutenants—the taciturn analyst and the wiry mechanic—followed. As they retraced their steps through the immense metal gate and back into the sterile, modern antechamber, Blade seized the opportunity to address Nisha, his question designed to confirm the Duke's treachery.
"The Vampire Guard, you say?" Blade mused, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. "I've been dissecting your organization for decades, Maginos. I track every shadow, every tactical deployment. Yet, I've never once encountered or even heard a rumor of this 'elite tactical group.' Why the sudden, convenient unveiling of your hidden military asset?"
Nisha, momentarily forgetting her resentment of Zhou Yi, focused her ire on Blade. Her father's need for secrecy was now compromised, and she had nothing left to lose.
"Of course you haven't, Daywalker," she shot back, her voice tight with suppressed rage. "This unit wasn't assembled for public defense or petty gang wars. It was formed three years ago, when you took your ridiculous little crusade into the former Soviet Union. Its sole purpose was, and remains, a decapitation strike force. Its singular goal was to covertly organize, train, and eventually execute you. You were never meant to know it existed."
The information was a cold confirmation of Blade's worst suspicions. He simply nodded, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Their truce was already founded on profound, mutual deceit, but the threat of the R-variant was severe enough to override even the deeply satisfying revenge he felt knowing they had been planning his demise.
As they reached the rooftop, Nisha turned, her features strained, and without a word of farewell, she simply strode back toward the building's entrance, abandoning them to the night air, the gesture a clear, final act of aristocratic pettiness.
Blade watched her retreat, then turned to Zhou Yi, a cruel, satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Special feelings for the little vampire princess, eh, Dawn Knight? You should have let me rough up the old man a bit more. I prefer to negotiate with people who understand the cost of their mistakes."
Zhou Yi ignored the gibe. He looked up at the light-polluted night sky, his focus entirely on the urgency of the moment. "Do you genuinely believe the intelligence they provided, Blade? And the sincerity of the truce?"
"I would never trust the promises of a creature that drinks blood for a living," Blade affirmed, his voice hardening.
"But I trust the mathematics of fear that Kylo spat out. The situation is dire, and the R-variant is an existential threat to all of us. Their cooperation is necessary for mass intelligence, but the only ones who will do the actual killing are us. I believe in the threat, if not the purity of their intentions."
"What is your next move?" Zhou Yi asked, the internal diagnostics of his suit running, preparing for immediate deployment.
"Rest and re-arm," Blade replied, cracking his neck, the sound sharp and mechanical. "They are sending their Vampire Guard to your domain tomorrow night. I need to be ready for them, not just for the hunt, but for the almost certain betrayal that will follow. I'll prepare some new silver nitrate bombs. Where should I meet you?"
"Abandoned trolley stop, Brooklyn," Blade supplied, giving a brief, non-specific address, then gesturing to his companions. "I'll be there. Don't worry about me. I always keep my promises, even to vampires."
Blade and his men melted into the shadows of the warehouse rooftop, heading for their own hidden transport.
Zhou Yi, needing no ground transport, leaped into the air, the powerful thrusters of the Dawn Type II armor igniting with a muffled roar. He ascended rapidly, turning his sights immediately toward Manhattan. He would not wait for the morning. He needed to verify the contagion's spread himself.
The city beneath him was a canvas of light, but Zhou Yi guided the Dawn Knight toward the geographic and socioeconomic low-points of the urban grid—the districts where society's lowest echelons gathered: the chaotic intersections of drug dens, prostitution rings, and gang territories.
These were the places where disappearances went unreported, and where the first, panicked outbreaks of a new contagion would be most easily disguised by the pervasive human despair.
For centuries, these districts had been ravaged by human predators: the thugs and dealers who were metaphorical leeches, sucking the lifeblood and profits from the poor, desperate, and addicted. Now, the metaphorical had become horribly literal.
Zhou Yi's armor activated Deep-Spectrum Thermal and Advanced Bio-Signature scanners, sweeping the chaotic streets and the derelict high-rises. He saw the usual patterns: the heat signatures of late-night activity, the faint chemical residue of illicit substances.
But tonight, the thermal scans were being disrupted by strange, localized anomalies. In the darkest alleyways, behind locked doors of condemned buildings, his sensors registered clusters of unnaturally cold, fast-moving signatures—biological entities with massive caloric demands and accelerated metabolisms, moving with a frenetic, almost uncontrolled energy.
They were feeding, and they were breeding, drawn by the easy prey of those who already lived on the fringes of existence.
The R-variant had found its perfect incubator, and the calculus Kylo had presented was already becoming a terrifying reality. The hunt was now an urban biological containment operation, and it had begun in the deepest shadows of the sleepless city. Zhou Yi descended silently toward the first confirmed hot spot.