Firth was no ordinary creature. As a vampire, his physical strength and durability were far beyond that of humans — yet before Kurogai, all that meant nothing.
From the moment Kurogai appeared, Firth's forces were crushed effortlessly. Each encounter ended the same way — total defeat. What terrified Firth most wasn't just the sheer gap in power, but the look of ease on Kurogai's face. He fought as though none of this required any effort, as though destruction was second nature.
Despair clawed its way through Firth's chest.
He wasn't wrong.
Kurogai's strength had already transcended anything Earth had to offer. Vampires, considered immortal predators — were little more than insects to him. If not for the fact that he needed vampire blood to complete the Seventh Pupil Ring, Kurogai wouldn't have bothered with them at all.
To him, vampires were far too weak. Fighting them wasn't thrilling; it was tedious. And so, he had simply swept through their ranks without pause.
Firth gritted his teeth, fear twisting his once-arrogant expression. "Who are you?!" he demanded. "Why do you possess such power? No human should be capable of this — not even our kind can wield such strength! What are you?"
He trembled slightly, recalling how Kurogai's single kick had shattered the reinforced floor like glass. Firth understood clearly — if he was still alive, it was only because Kurogai allowed it.
Indeed, that was the case.
Kurogai had no reason to spare him except one — information.
"I'll make this simple," Kurogai said coolly, his crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Tell me where the rest of your kind are hiding — especially the purebloods. You know where they are, don't you?"
His voice was calm, but beneath it was an authority that made Firth's heart seize.
The vampire hesitated, his mind racing.
Though Firth was of high standing among his kind, his bloodline was far from pure. Once, he had been human — until a pureblood had turned him centuries ago. Compared to a trueborn vampire, his lineage was diluted.
For Kurogai, that mattered.
The purer the blood, the stronger its energy — and the greater its effect in powering the Pupil Ring.
Time was running short.
Thanos's forces had already begun moving across Earth. Even if Kurogai's earlier actions had caused the Mad Titan to hesitate, Thanos would inevitably come.
To face a god, he would need far greater power.
"What do you want?" Firth finally growled, struggling to maintain his composure. "What are you planning?"
Kurogai's expression remained unreadable. "You're not the one asking questions."
He stepped forward, the air around him warping faintly with the ripple of energy. "But since you won't talk willingly…"
Kurogai raised a hand, his voice echoing with quiet menace.
"Human Path — Soul Extraction."
In an instant, the Rinnegan — the legendary eyes of divine perception — glowed to life. A spectral form appeared behind Kurogai, its ghostly arm reaching toward Firth.
Before the vampire could react, he felt his consciousness being torn apart. A strangled cry escaped him as the technique dragged his very soul into Kurogai's grasp. His memories, emotions, and secrets flooded Kurogai's mind like a river of crimson light.
Moments later, Firth's body collapsed — lifeless.
The technique left nothing behind. Even a high-level vampire's soul could not withstand the power of the Human Path.
Kurogai exhaled quietly and closed his eyes, letting the memories settle.
"Elder Coven… High Celestials… Hall of Eternal Night…" he murmured, sifting through what he had learned.
Those were the strongholds of the purebloods. Locations where the most ancient vampires — those of unbroken lineage — still hid from the modern world.
Firth's memories also revealed clusters of lesser vampires, gathering in abandoned cities and underground lairs. Individually weak — but in number, useful.
"First, I'll deal with the High Celestials," Kurogai muttered. "If their blood isn't enough, I'll move on to the rest. Even a thousand drops of weak blood can fill a chalice."
He stepped toward the shattered window, violet light flickering around him as the Space Stone's power gathered in his hand.
"Let's finish this."
And with a pulse of energy, Kurogai vanished — the air collapsing inward as the gemstone's power folded space around him.
Behind him, the ruined building was silent.
All that remained was the faint metallic scent of blood.
Hours later, a car rolled to a stop outside the same building.
Inside were two men — one elderly, with gray hair and a weathered face, and the other, tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black leather with a sword strapped to his back. The second man wore dark sunglasses, his expression unreadable.
"Blade," the old man said grimly, glancing toward the structure. "This was Firth's lair. I got the coordinates from one of his underlings, but…" His voice faltered. "I'm not sure what's in there. The energy readings are off the charts. Are you sure about this?"
Blade opened the car door, stepping out into the night air. The faint hum of danger hung around the place — but that was nothing new for him.
"I'm sure," he said flatly.
The old man — Whistler — sighed. "Just… be careful."
Blade gave a faint smirk. "Neither am I."
He drew his sword and approached the building cautiously. The stench of blood was heavy, but something else lingered too — a strange, residual energy that made his skin prickle.
Inside, he found nothing living. The halls were silent, the walls marked by destruction far beyond any normal weapon.
Blood splattered the floor and ceiling, but there were no bodies — only stains, and fragments of what used to be vampires.
Blade frowned deeply. Whoever had done this wasn't just powerful — they were methodical.
He knelt beside a smear of blood and touched it with his glove. Still warm.
"…Someone got here before me," he muttered.
As he rose to his feet, the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally across the walls — as if the building itself had been scarred by the sheer pressure of the battle that took place here.
"Guess I'm not the only one hunting vampir es tonight."
He turned and walked back toward the exit, his blade glinting faintly under the moonlight.