Upon hearing Glenn’s words, the vampires exchanged bewildered glances, just as he had expected.

  “We don’t understand what you mean,” Murphy said sharply. “You’d better make yourself clear.”

  Glenn chuckled softly. “Just assume I’m a fifth-tier werewolf.”

  He merely needed them to understand that his strength was not to be underestimated—enough to spare him needless trouble.

  “Everyone knows,” scoffed the handsome male vampire, “that there’s only one fifth-tier werewolf in existence—the current Wolf King, that old beast. Are you mocking us by claiming the same rank?”

  The others, Murphy included, seemed to agree.

  “And who decided the world can only have one?” Glenn asked, his eyes glinting with disdain. “Must I announce to the entire continent that I’ve reached fifth tier?”

  His tone suggested he was speaking to fools, leaving the vampires momentarily speechless.

  “Why should we believe you?” the male vampire persisted, his pride unwilling to yield. “Perhaps you’re just bluffing.”

  “Would you like to find out?” Glenn’s voice dropped, low and dangerous.

  A chill of instinctive fear rippled through the vampire, who shuddered before his humiliation turned to fury. He was just about to strike when Murphy intervened, unwilling to waste time on pointless conflict.

  “What do you want, exactly?” she asked, her voice cutting through the tension.

  “I’m merely curious,” Glenn replied. “It’s rare to see four fourth-tier vampires gathered together. I wonder—what’s your purpose?”

  He had no desire to linger; Danni and Ricky were still waiting for him.

  “That’s none of your concern,” Murphy said coldly.

  “You’d better tell me,” Glenn said, his tone calm yet iron-hard. “If what you’re planning could bring disaster, I won’t stand aside. I may be cursed as a werewolf, but I have no love for tragedy. If your actions endanger innocents… it would put me in a very unpleasant mood.”

  He wasn’t joking. His soul, shaped by the discipline of his youth, clung fiercely to the idea of justice—and to a personal reverence for life itself. What he despised most was the senseless violation of it. Criminal lives, of course, were another matter entirely.

  His words left the vampires stunned. That such convictions could come from a werewolf was almost absurd.

  “How laughable,” sneered one of the women. “Weakness itself is a sin. Those without strength—”

  “Sherla!” Murphy’s sharp voice cut her off. She turned back to Glenn, her expression composed. “Rest assured. What we’re doing tonight will harm no innocents. I swear it upon the blood of the First Ancestor.”

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  Glenn nodded, his gaze sliding toward the insolent woman—Sherla—and then he placed a hand lightly upon the shoulder of the male vampire beside her.

  At the touch, the man stiffened. A tremor ran through him, cold sweat gathering on his brow as if death itself had brushed past.

  Glenn’s tone was mild, almost conversational. “Sherla, wasn’t it? You were about to say that those who can’t protect themselves deserve to perish, weren’t you? Very well. I’ll remember you. Make sure I don’t see you again.”

  Before anyone could respond, he withdrew his hand and turned to leave. The moment his touch vanished, the male vampire nearly collapsed, his body slick with sweat as if dragged from icy water.

  His companions rushed to steady him, alarmed.

  “What happened, Mort?” Murphy demanded.

  “He carries… a relic of at least sixth-tier power!” the vampire gasped, nearly shouting.

  Fortunately, the clamor of the restaurant drowned his voice, sparing them unwanted attention.

  “What?!” the three female vampires exclaimed in unison.

  All eyes then turned to Sherla, who stammered in terror, “I—I was trying to say that those who can’t protect themselves… it’s the fault of those who bring the disaster…”

  …

  Returning to his own table, Glenn suddenly realized he’d forgotten to ask whether they knew Baye—the vampire he’d met at Regila’s birthday banquet. He dismissed the thought. It hardly mattered.

  He resumed eating with Danni and Ricky, his appetite untroubled.

  “Are they your friends?” Danni asked suddenly.

  Glenn swallowed and nodded. “Something like that.”

  “They don’t seem like ordinary people. They’re too beautiful. Nobles, perhaps? You’re not getting involved with nobles again, are you?” she asked, her tone laced with quiet concern.

  “I’m not sure,” Glenn admitted with a faint smile. “We’ve only met a few times. But don’t worry—those so-called nobles I used to know are long gone.”

  He knew his family had always despised the way the original Glenn had tried to curry favor with arrogant aristocrats who treated him like a servant.

  “That’s for the best,” Danni said warmly, letting the matter drop. She knew her brother hated being lectured.

  When they’d finished their meal, Glenn spent the rest of the day wandering the town with Danni and little Ricky, shopping until nightfall. He bought the boy toys and several changes of clothes, delighted by the child’s endless laughter and bright eyes.

  Ricky’s cheerfulness was infectious; he called Glenn “Uncle” so many times the man lost count. Glenn found himself fond of the boy—he was obedient, sweet, and never loud or unruly like so many children.

  As for finding Luther and the others, that would have to wait until morning.

  Meanwhile, at the heart of the town, inside a castle-like mansion, footmen and maids moved about silently, knights stood motionless at their posts— and every pair of eyes was hollow, devoid of life, as though their souls had been drained away.

  Only one woman, dressed in the crisp uniform of a butler, walked the corridors with calm purpose, ignoring the lifeless servants.

  She pushed open a heavy door and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her.

  Five corpses lay sprawled across the carpet—nobles in lavish attire, clearly the original masters of the house.

  With a simple motion of her hand, the bodies lifted into the air. A gust of eerie wind swept through, reducing them to ash.

  Just as she was about to conjure five puppet duplicates in their likeness, a low voice spoke behind her:

  “The first one.”

  Her heart seized in shock, but before she could react, her consciousness blurred into darkness.

  The vampire Mort—whom Glenn had met earlier—stood there, the crimson fading from his eyes. He spared no glance at the fallen woman bleeding from her seven orifices, addressing the three swarms of bats hovering behind him:

  “This level of resistance is nothing to us. Let’s split up and take care of the rest.”

  The bats made no reply—only scattered silently in three different directions.

  Moments later, Mort himself dissolved into a fourth cloud of wings and vanished into the night.

  When silence returned, the body of the fallen butler twitched once… and then slowly rose to its feet again.