The moment the first pale faces emerged from the shadows, the vampire hunters snapped into action—silver-edged stakes drawn in a single fluid motion. The moonlight gleamed off sharpened tips, but not one hunter dared to strike just yet. The air was thick with tension… and the coppery scent of blood.
The witch's breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling from the steady drain of her power into Aiken's grasp.
Her lips curved into a pained grin, though her voice carried venom.
"You really are insane," she hissed through clenched teeth. "This—this was your plan all along, wasn't it? Draw them here, wipe us out, and crown yourself king of this city?"
Alan's head snapped toward his son, eyes narrowing.
"Aiken! Is that true?!" His voice rang with both fury and fear.
"Maybe." Aiken's reply was a single, lazy syllable wrapped in a smile.
"Wh—" Alan began, but stopped as the sphere of blood above them began to swell, pulsing like a living heart.
"What's happening?" Milo asked, gaze darting between Aiken and the hovering mass.
The witch's eyes locked on it, her expression shifting from anger to a trace of unease. I've never seen a spell like that, she thought.
Aiken squeezed her hand tighter, drawing in more of her magic. She cried out, the sound raw and ragged, but he didn't loosen his grip.
Is her magic… actually endless? he realized with a flicker of surprise. Then let's push it further.
His voice dropped low, carrying the weight of a command to reality itself.
"Sanguis fractus, sparge et divide."
The sphere of blood shivered, then burst apart into a thousand perfect droplets, each one hanging in the air like a crimson jewel.
The vampires froze, eyes widening, pupils dilating. Aiken's earlier spell wasn't true compulsion—it couldn't be... it would require an incredible amount of psychic power to control so many vampires. This was his blood, and thanks to his incantation, to them, it was irresistible now. They stepped forward, trembling, and opened their mouths as the droplets drifted down.
Every vampire took one in.
Aiken's smile widened, and his final words were a whisper edged with steel:
"Sanguis flamma, cor rumpere."
The street lit up in flashes of red and bone-white as, one by one, their heads erupted in bloody mist.
The vampire hunters' eyes went wide, their grips tightening on weapons that no longer had any purpose.
"Every one of them…" Milo began, his voice low.
"Gone. Just like that," Alan finished, staring at the bloody mist dissipating into the night.
Aiken turned toward the hunters, his tone cold and unquestionable.
"Clean up… and bring me their blood."
They froze for a heartbeat, then the order sank in. Tremors rippled through the group.
"Y-Yes, sir," one stammered. They moved quickly, not out of duty—but out of fear. No one here wanted to find out what would happen if they disobeyed.
"W–Wait, guys!" Alan called, stepping forward, but the men didn't slow. These were the same hunters who had stood their ground against William's clan even when all hope had died… and yet, before Aiken, their courage faltered.
Milo exhaled, the sound half a sigh, half a chuckle.
"What are you going to do now—" the witch started, her voice sharp, but Aiken suddenly let go of her hand. The steady drain of magic stopped.
"Sorry," he said, his tone as calm and flat as if they were discussing the weather. "I wanted to use less magic. Got carried away by how much you had." His eyes met hers briefly. "Sorry for hurting you."
It wasn't warm, it wasn't tender—but she knew he meant it.
Her eyes widened. "What…?"
"Did you really think I wanted to take control of this city?" His mouth curved in a smug half-smile before turning to Alan. "I'd never betray this old man. For however stupid he is… he still raised me."
Alan's chest tightened, a flicker of pride mixing with a surge of irritation.
Milo suddenly burst out laughing. "Guys! Chicago is free! We've won! We've won!" His voice echoed across the street, shattering the tense silence.
The hunters paused their work, glancing over to see Aiken standing beside Alan and Milo. They saw him smiling—just faintly—and something shifted. The fear in their eyes eased. They began to cheer, relief rippling through them.
"Hey," Aiken's voice cut through the noise like a blade. "You can cheer after you finish doing what I asked."
The cheers died instantly. Silence returned. And they went back to work.
...
In a bustling bar in Chicago, the air was thick with the scent of beer and the echo of laughter.
"Cheers!" the vampire hunters roared in unison, slamming glasses together. The victory was still fresh in their veins, and the relief was intoxicating.
Aiken lifted his glass with them, the witch beside him doing the same. Around them, the hunters chatted loudly, their voices tumbling over one another.
Milo and Alan had positioned themselves on either side of Aiken, while the witch sat a little apart, watching silently as if trying to read him.
"So, Aiken…" Alan said, his tone laced with mischief as he drained the last of his beer. "This girlfriend of yours—she like you? To make you love her that much, she's gotta match your vibe, right?"
"No," Aiken replied with a faint smile. "She's the opposite. Too cheerful for me."
Alan's eyes lit up. "You have to let me meet her! I need to know the girl who stole my son's heart!" He waved for another drink, his voice booming over the noise. He wasn't drunk—not with a werewolf's healing keeping his head clear. This was just Alan being Alan.
"Come on, have a drink," Milo chimed in from the other side, his words slurring as he shoved Aiken's glass toward his mouth.
"No." Aiken's arm stayed firm. "I don't drink."
"You don't drink? Alan raised you and you don't drink?!" Milo stared at him like he'd just confessed to hating music.
"It's better like this, Milo," Alan said, stepping in. "Aiken… completely changes when he's drunk."
"Then drink!" Milo laughed, leaning closer. "Loosen up a bit."
"No, thanks," Aiken said simply. "I like to keep control of myself."
He was about to say more when movement caught his eye—the witch, slipping toward the door, her expression unreadable.
"Dad, Milo… I'll be back in a second." Aiken set his glass down and began weaving through the crowd.
"Aiken, where are you going—" Alan started, but the young man was already gone.
Alan leaned back in his seat, exhaling. "This kid… he's gotten even more mysterious..."
To be continued...
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Also, I've thought of starting a MCU fanfic someday, I don't know... if you have any idea for the moment being, you, as you already know, are welcome.