Marcus only glanced briefly at the truck parked near the docks before dismissing it entirely from his attention. There were far too many large trucks in the port to warrant suspicion. Moreover, Gunnar, the driver, had parked the truck, reclined his seat, kicked off his shoes, and propped his feet on the dashboard, pretending to nap—an act convincing enough to draw no attention from Marcus.
At 11 p.m., as the bustling port finally fell silent, Marcus took to the sky, skimming close to the ocean's surface before veering toward the large ship in the harbor.
He silently ambushed a guard, clutching the ship's railing with his legs as he hung upside down to feed. Over the next several minutes, Marcus picked off five guards one by one, feeding until he felt fully satiated.
Once his body began rapidly regenerating its strength, Marcus waited patiently for another half-hour, ensuring his recovery was complete before boldly stepping onto the ship, attacking and feeding on anyone he encountered.
Even after entering the ship's interior and being hit by bullets, he remained unfazed; the rounds were merely standard silver bullets and didn't cause significant damage. As he absorbed the blood of the crew, his strength continued to grow. In mere minutes, Marcus had killed everyone onboard.
Finally, he reached the door to Alexander Corvinus's private quarters. Dispatching the four guards outside with ease, Marcus paused to think. After a moment, he tore a coat from one of the guards, throwing it over his blood-soaked body.
Opening the door, he strode into the cabin, his face and mouth stained with blood, and called out gleefully, "Good evening, Father."
Alexander Corvinus stood behind a large desk, his expression cold and unreadable. "You're not welcome here, Marcus."
Marcus, unfazed by his father's disapproval, smirked and stepped closer. "So, should I apologize? Or perhaps send you a polite letter announcing my arrival next time?"
As he looked at his rebellious, unapologetic son, any feelings of joy Alexander might have felt at this long-awaited reunion evaporated. All that remained was a deep sense of resignation and powerlessness.
For over a thousand years, Alexander had grown weary of cleaning up the messes left by his two sons. Marcus, in particular, was a source of constant disappointment and heartache, giving nothing back in return.
If it weren't for his lingering paternal instincts and the burden of guilt weighing on his soul, Alexander might have ended both his sons' lives long ago, putting an end to the centuries of chaos they had caused.
Suppressing his frustration, Alexander finally asked, "How did you escape William Devonshire?"
The mere mention of William caused Marcus's face to darken. The memory of being pursued like prey by those relentless machines stoked the fire of his anger.
He had initially planned to have a civil conversation with his father, but his irritation got the better of him. He snarled, "Tell me, where is my brother being held?"
Alexander frowned, his voice tinged with disappointment. "After all these years, do you still not understand? Your brother is uncontrollable. If you release him, the world will once again descend into chaos, just as it did six centuries ago. You'll unleash an unstoppable wave of destruction—wolves without reason, without mercy."
"No, Father," Marcus said coldly, his eyes locking onto Alexander's. "That chaos is exactly what I need. Let the humans fight amongst themselves. The more wolves there are, the more chaos they create.
"When the time is right, I'll reemerge as a savior, granting humanity the power to fight back. And perhaps… I'll become their new god."
Alexander sneered at his son's delusion. "You've been asleep for too long, Marcus. This world isn't what it was two centuries ago.
"Just look at William Devonshire—his forces alone are enough to crush both the vampires and the lycans. His mechanical army is beyond anything we've ever faced.
"Flesh and blood are powerless against tireless, remorseless machines that can operate with precision and efficiency. Even humans equipped with advanced armor and weapons would annihilate us with ease.
"Wake up, Marcus. Your time has passed."
Marcus fell silent, knowing full well the truth of his father's words. His encounter with William's robots had already demonstrated their overwhelming superiority.
But after a long pause, Marcus shook his head. "I refuse to live as a caged animal, Father. I will not stand by and let the humans lock us away like exhibits in a zoo. If this world must burn for me to be free, then so be it."
His voice rising with anger, Marcus shouted, "Enough talk! Tell me where my brother is imprisoned!"
His outburst echoed through the cabin, silencing the room.
As Marcus's gaze swept the room, he noticed something on the desk—a circular bronze key.
In a flash, Marcus lunged forward, snatching the key from the desk. He stared at it in disbelief before turning his furious eyes on Alexander.
"You… You and Victor worked together to imprison your own son in a lightless dungeon for six centuries?"
A wave of regret washed over Alexander as he realized his mistake. He wanted to explain, but his pride as a father held him back, leaving him momentarily speechless.
But Marcus showed no such restraint. Overcome by rage and the hunger for power, he grabbed Alexander by the throat with one hand and pinned down his father's right arm with the other. Without hesitation, he sank his fangs into Alexander's wrist.
"NO—!" Alexander's cry was filled with despair.
Marcus had intended only to extract information about William Corvinus's prison from his father's blood. But the moment the blood touched his lips, something extraordinary happened.
For the first time in over a millennium, Alexander's ancient, still heart began to beat. And with every beat, Marcus felt his own strength surge.
The sensation was intoxicating, and Marcus couldn't stop himself. The primal thirst for power that defined every vampire overwhelmed him, and he clung to Alexander's arm, draining more and more of his father's blood.
The room suddenly filled with the sound of breaking glass. Marcus turned to see two combat robots with glowing red eyes climbing through the shattered window.
Before they could act, Marcus spun around, lifting Alexander's weakened body as a shield.
As expected, the robots did not fire.
But the sound of pounding metal echoed behind him as more combat robots breached the cabin door.
"Damn you! You soulless machines just won't quit!" Marcus growled as five or six more robots entered the room.
Still unaware that Alexander's blood had rendered him immune to sunlight, Marcus looked up at the cabin's glass ceiling.
With a powerful beat of his wings, he smashed through the ceiling, soaring into the night sky with Alexander in tow.
But before he could escape, a volley of ultraviolet bullets struck him mid-air.
"ARGH!" Marcus roared in pain, his fear of ultraviolet light momentarily overriding his instincts. As he reflexively clawed at the bullets lodged in his body, his grip on Alexander loosened.
The elder Corvinus plummeted from the sky, crashing through the glass ceiling and landing heavily on the desk below.
"NO… Father!" Marcus cried out, gazing down at his fallen parent.
Alexander lay motionless, a shard of glass from the desk piercing his chest.
But before Marcus could react, another hail of ultraviolet bullets struck him.
To his shock, the pain was minimal. He quickly realized that Alexander's blood had not only strengthened him but had also rendered him immune to the deadly rays of ultraviolet light.
Feeling the surge of newfound power, Marcus let out a triumphant roar and dove toward the nearest combat robot.
"Die!" he bellowed.
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