The howling wind battered the black waves against the jagged rocks. Even the sea birds had long since retreated into crevices to wait out the storm. Thunder rolled deep beneath the ocean floor, echoing up from ancient fault lines still shifting, triggering light tremors across the East Coast. Solomon remained silent. The vampire's ramblings came as no surprise—after all, the Cologne Honor Church had always been a cult devoted to Yog-Sothoth. Solomon had never forgotten the terror of the Outer Gods, despite the All-in-One's past assistance. Cleansing such cults had always been his duty.
What did surprise him was the vampire's staggering ignorance. The Worm was not a servant of the All-in-One. You weren't supposed to make sacrificial offerings during a storm. Had the vampire followed the instructions in the book properly, Yarmouth might already have been lost. He was grateful for the undead's stupidity.
"I'm genuinely saddened by your ignorance, vampire," Solomon said as he approached the lighthouse, explaining aloud to Wanda the errors the vampire had made in the summoning ritual. When he reached the base of the lighthouse, his face turned sharp with impatience as he shouted upward, "Enough theatrics. Hand over the book, and I'll let you die painlessly. If you've summoned something, bring it out—I haven't had dinner yet!"
"I know who you are, mortal! It's too late to stop me!" The vampire, once James Boone, failed to catch even a hint of sarcasm. He screamed arrogantly, "You may have slain my servants with the firearms of this age, but you will never kill me! Come! Witness the horror of the Worm with your own eyes!"
Solomon shrugged.
Wanda could tell immediately: this thing was a lunatic, a brain rotted by eldritch magic. If she ever surrendered herself to forbidden sorcery, this deranged figure was her likely future. Her teacher had warned her countless times, but nothing taught like firsthand exposure. Solomon often spoke of witches whose minds had unraveled—how they always ended up pregnant in a barn with no idea who the father was.
At Solomon's signal, Wanda raised her hand and hurled a hammer-like blast of red energy at the vampire.
Back in town, the people of Yarmouth were slowly regaining composure.
Though power hadn't returned, many homes had diesel generators, and the bars, restaurants, and churches began to light up again. Yarmouth was a deeply faithful town. Over eight thousand residents, and eight nearly century-old churches—whether Protestant, Catholic, or Orthodox, each had a place here. Under the guidance of various clergy, people instinctively gathered in the churches rather than the school or the police station.
"The lighthouse is glowing again—it's red!" cried Yara's son. At first, others thought he was high again, until they turned and saw for themselves: the Halfway Rock Lighthouse really was lit again. The light shifted from red to gold, and then—bolts of lightning struck down from the heavens. The booming explosions that followed were muffled by the raging wind. Clearly, none of this was natural. Panicked, the priest urged everyone into the church as though its wooden roof might shield them from the storm.
The earthquake began again.
Despite his madness, the vampire's foul blood magic proved difficult for Wanda to fend off. Deflecting the cursed flames and invisible forces that could shatter rock had already drained her. And when the vampire took to the sky, things got worse. Wanda knew this kind of black magic. Flight spells like this required a salve made from horrifying ingredients—one of them being the fat of an unbaptized boy. The very thought made her sick. Everything they had seen along the way confirmed the horrors this monster had committed.
The shaking knocked her to the ground, and her summoned lightning missed its mark. She struggled up from the wet rock, slick with seawater and dead kelp. Her red hair clung to her face, her knees stung with a warm flow of blood. As she pushed the strands from her eyes, she saw a blue barrier shimmer into place in front of her. The vampire's deflected spell struck the rock beside her, instantly corroding it into boiling foam—the acrid fumes swept away by the wind. If that spell had hit her, she'd have been reduced to slime. Solomon had already stormed the lighthouse, but his magic still protected his apprentice.
Wanda clenched her teeth and pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain in her palms—rage had already drowned out her nerves.
Damn it. Damn this disgusting creature.
She shoved her hair back and steadied her breath, slowing her heart. Her face was fierce with anger as she slapped seaweed off her soaked blazer, pointed a finger at the vampire, and uttered a profane incantation Solomon had strictly forbidden her from using. The vampire's next spell was cut short as raw flesh began to grow in his mouth, choking him on his own tissue.
James Boone recoiled in shock at this magic—unknown, unseen, and far beyond his comprehension. For all his supposed immortality and study of Secrets of the Worm, he had no true magical education. He didn't know how to reverse the spell or use his innate vampiric magic to resist it. All he could do was shove filthy fingers into his mouth, clawing at the slimy tissue. Wanda had waited for this—her next spell, a blaze of brilliant fire, blasted him from the sky.
This was just one of the countless monsters that Kamar-Taj worked to keep out of human society—and one of the weaker ones at that. Even so, the crimes this pathetic thing had committed were unimaginable. Wanda stared down at the charred, writhing wretch whimpering at her feet, heart heavy with sorrow. Pink flesh surged from its mouth, swallowing its fangs like a malformed new tongue. Maybe this was why her teacher wanted humans to face outer threats on their own. But if even vampires were this terrifying to humanity, what would they do against true demons?
James Boone's eyes opened, full of hatred, locking onto the distracted witch.
"I've brought judgment for you," she said. "I'm not letting you die easily—not until I rip you in half."
The vampire growled something incoherent.
Then, suddenly, he vanished from the ground.
A taloned claw slashed toward Wanda's neck—from behind. If his hands had once looked human, this was no longer the case. There were no joints, no bones—just seared, mutated limbs, the torn remnants of his robe clinging to burned, blistered skin.
The vampire's appearance was grotesque. His jaw stretched unnaturally. His overgrown tongue, half-chewed, flopped from his maw. Dark red blood poured like a waterfall from between his fangs. His limbs ballooned grotesquely, joints dislocated, back splitting his robes as bone and muscle surged out.
Just as the filthy claw was about to reach her neck, Wanda spun and drove a silver stake through the vampire's hand.
"You should watch more modern television," she said, her voice laced with venom the creature had never felt before. Rain ran down her face, and even she didn't know how wicked, how proud her expression had become. "My teacher was right—vanishing enemies always show up behind you. That's like a damn universal law. And don't you know how bad your breath stinks?"
James Boone roared in retreat.
It wasn't just the pain from the silver stake—he had smelled it. From this girl's eyes, from her blood, from her soul flowed a darkness far more terrible than his own. Darker than blood magic. More chaotic than the Worm. Every bestial instinct he had screamed in warning:
He might die here—before this predator.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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