Mystique had obtained something extraordinary.
No one could say how greatly her fate would change.
In fact.
Some of the changes had already thrown the Marvel Universe off its original course.
Eastern Europe.
In a forest that should have been home only to wild animals, a rift tore open in space. From it squeezed out a medieval castle, its design ancient and chilling. The once sunlit, vibrant forest instantly dimmed into gloom.
It was as though some force had blocked out the sun, leaving no light to shine upon the castle's surroundings.
Compared to other sudden anomalies, this one felt more like the breaking of a seal on some long-forbidden place.
"For tens of millions of years, you are the first to enter this place. Was it you who freed me from the curse of 'Eternity'?"
"Huh? You mean that nailed-shut gate? Yeah, I pulled the nails out. No need to thank me… huh, your teeth look pretty good though."
"Heh… what an amusing human. You're not afraid of me? Good. Then let me give you the First Embrace, as thanks for releasing me…"
"Sorry, but I'm not into kissing people with spiked fangs."
Two voices echoed from within.
It sounded as if someone had wandered into the castle—and broken a seal.
Bats swarmed around the castle, their wings beating in the dark while eerie laughter, "kekekekeke," echoed through the gloomy halls.
"Come to me! I can smell it! Your blood! It must be delicious!"
"Don't be so pushy. I don't mind men or women, but I really can't stand your teeth. What exactly do you think you're doing lunging at me?"
Though the castle's arrival went unseen, vampires all over the world seemed to sense it, turning their gaze toward Eastern Europe.
...
Florida, USA.
In a hidden underground vampire nest, a blood-formed lake began to churn. Slowly, from its depths, an exquisitely crafted coffin rose.
"I feel the ancestral blood within me awakening. After countless years of being sealed, the Progenitor has finally broken free from the chains of 'Eternity'."
From the pure-gold coffin stepped a demonically handsome man. He looked at the gathered vampires around the blood lake, their faces alight with excitement.
"Your Highness! We feel our power has grown stronger too! Is this because of the ancestor?"
The vampires' expressions brimmed with ecstasy.
Just moments earlier, nearly every vampire had discovered their strength had increased—at least by one rank.
"That's right. The stronger the Progenitor becomes, the stronger we all become. Now that he has returned, it is time for our clan to rule the world."
The eerie man's face broke into a dazzling grin. After addressing the others, he relished the vitality now restored to him.
"This is the power that belongs to me!"
Weakened for so many years, he could finally walk out of the lake of gathered blood.
As if he had not felt the ground beneath his feet for an eternity, he paced back and forth, his joy growing with every step.
"I want blood!"
At his command, several vampires dressed as guards escorted a young girl forward. She wore only thin, gauzy garments, as though freshly bathed.
"Hsss—"
The man bared his teeth, his mouth transforming into a maw of razor fangs. At the horrifying sight, the girl staggered back in terror.
Yet no one restrained her, and she neither screamed nor fled. Instead, once she steadied herself, she collapsed before him.
"Please grant me the First Embrace, great god!"
Her face still carried traces of fear, but even more it showed fervent devotion—like that of a religious zealot.
Pushing past her terror, she stripped away the thin garments and closed her eyes, offering herself for the "god" before her to drink her blood. There truly were those who found vampires glamorous, dreaming of becoming one themselves.
"Perfect! A flawless body!"
The eerie man inhaled deeply, clearly satisfied with this first blood offering since his awakening. He stepped toward the girl, now completely bare before him.
She felt his presence only inches away, her body trembling uncontrollably. No one could face death without fear.
"Immortal, ageless god…"
The girl whispered to herself, as if to summon courage, imagining the eternal beauty she would possess once transformed into a vampire.
In the Marvel Universe, many vampire movies and TV shows existed—bankrolled by real vampires—meant to lure in eager volunteers ready to sacrifice themselves.
"Splash~"
The demonic man's claws sliced across the girl's neck, cutting her throat clean through. He lowered his head against her and drank greedily.
The crowd of vampires surrounding them swallowed hard, but in the presence of a powerful Vampire Prince, none dared reveal their own hunger.
Moments later, the girl was drained to nothing but a shriveled husk.
"Sorry, seems you weren't worthy of joining us." The demonic man flung the dried corpse aside like garbage.
He had never intended to transform her. Granting the First Embrace consumed one's own strength, and no vampire would casually waste such power on a mortal.
"Exquisite blood."
The demonic man wiped his mouth clean, wearing a look of blissful satisfaction, as though savoring the memory of the taste.
At that moment—
"Prince! Please avenge my daughter!"
A middle-aged vampire burst through the doorway, pushing past the others to kneel before the demonic man. His blood-red eyes burned with desperation.
Hearing his plea, the demonic man's earlier joy faded, his smile vanishing as if an old wound had been reopened.
"I know. I know. New York..."
Though his appearance was youthful, his words and demeanor carried an aged heaviness. Clearly, this was a vampire who had lived for countless years.
He paced the stone floor, his expression darkening with each step, his tone seething with anger that could no longer be hidden.
"The deaths of those kin in New York... among them was one of my descendants!" His face twisted with bitter resentment. "That was my favorite descendant. No... this cannot be endured."
His pupils turned blood-red.
"Homelander! Even if he truly is the incarnation of the sun, before the Progenitor he will fall! Come! With me, to welcome back the Progenitor!"
These vampires had somehow learned of the massacre at the underground bar in New York. Even this so-called Prince dared not seek revenge against Herman, and now pinned his hopes on the awakening of their progenitor.
"The Progenitor's power will surely plunge that Homelander into despair!"
The demonic man's conviction was absolute.
He had once thought of handling it himself, but after seeing the footage on the news, he immediately chose to crawl back into his pool and sleep.
Outwardly, he claimed his strength was suppressed because of the Progenitor's long imprisonment. In truth, he knew going would be suicide.
The excuse was not false, but the reality was simple: even at his peak, he would not dare seek vengeance. He knew his limits well—a kind of clarity born from centuries of survival.
Indeed.
Titles like Prince or Count may sound grand, and to their worshippers they may even seem godlike. But in the end, vampires were only another kind of supernatural being.
Prince? Count? Viscount?
None of those mattered against modern firepower. And to challenge Homelander—who could survive a nuclear strike through "self-detonation"—was beyond foolish.
Until today, the demonic man had kept his hatred for Herman buried deep in his heart.
But once he sensed the aura of the Progenitor, his spirit ignited. With a host of vampires at his back, he took to the air and sped toward Eastern Europe.
"Find the Progenitor! He will avenge my descendant!"
The demonic man and his followers transformed into bat-like forms, racing toward the shadowed forest where the castle loomed.
They could feel the source of their faith. Just as some worship Odin, and others Zeus, vampires placed their devotion in their Progenitor.
All faiths on Earth traced back to a Sky Father. By that measure, the vampire progenitor should also belong to the Sky Father–level.
But only the weakest of that tier. The Progenitor's sole claim to pride was perhaps its Immortality.
"Great Dracula! Almighty Ancestral God!"
The demonic man and his followers dropped to their knees before the castle, their reverence absolute.
They cried out together, hailing the return of their great Progenitor.
Yet, amid the chants that rang like hymns, the Progenitor gave no reply.
Instead, a crackling noise echoed faintly from within the castle.
The demonic man and his vampires stared in confusion.
"Does the Progenitor not wish to see us?"
The demonic man, emboldened by being one personally transformed by the Progenitor, prepared to step inside.
But in the next instant, his expression changed drastically.
"My power!"
The strength he had just regained began to wither again, this time even more severely. In an instant, his body aged dramatically.
And it wasn't only the demonic man.
The other vampires were also losing their strength. Their faces withered, aging ten or even twenty years in moments, and some grew so weak they collapsed to the floor.
The stronger the progenitor, the stronger they became. Conversely, the weaker the progenitor, the weaker they were fated to be. This was a loss of power unlike anything they had ever experienced.
"How is this possible! What happened to the progenitor!?"
The demonic man stared in disbelief.
The progenitor had only just broken free from the seal.
How could he suddenly become weaker than ever?
On Earth—there should not exist anything capable of threatening the progenitor.
The demonic man's expression twisted with horror. Ignoring his draining strength, he staggered toward the castle, desperate to see what had happened inside...
Just as he reached the great doors, they opened on their own. From within stepped a man in a bloodstained suit, calmly adjusting his sleeves.
"The progenitor? No!"
The demonic man froze at the sight of the suited figure. This was no progenitor.
The aura of Dracula, the progenitor... was gone. If not for the certainty of the progenitor's immortality, he might have believed Dracula had been slain.
"Another vampire? No... a whole pack of you? Has this cursed world truly become infested with your kind?"
The man in the suit glanced at the demonic man and the vampires outside. Still fixing his sleeves, he spoke with a casual sort of disdain.
"I've no interest in your species. But if you plan to lunge for my throat like that one inside, I won't hesitate to send you along to join him." His tone brimmed with irritation. "That bastard's blood ruined my favorite suit."
His complaint, delivered without even sparing them a direct look, sent a ripple of shock through the vampire horde.
"You... you killed Dracula, the progenitor!?"
The demonic man's voice trembled. His eyes widened in horror as he stumbled backward, feeling an indescribable dread toward the suited figure.
The progenitor... killed?
If not for the sudden drain of their bloodlines, the demonic man would never have believed such words. But now, there was no denying it.
Why else would every vampire's strength be stripped away?
"Killed? Of course not. I simply sent him to my domain for a bit of ideological reeducation. Trying to steal a sip of divine blood is not acceptable behavior."
The suited man said it with absolute seriousness. He smoothed his bloodstained jacket, then picked up a gem-encrusted cylindrical object he'd taken from Dracula's chambers, inspecting it curiously.
"Damn it. Not a toy for self-comfort after all."
With a look of disappointment, he tossed the object to the ground and ground it beneath his heel with clear disdain.
"You've got a decent look about you, though." Lifting his gaze again, he noticed their eyes—blood-red with fear and fury—and a flicker of interest crossed his face.
"Oh? Your eyes change color? What a coincidence. So do mine."
His entire face contorted at once into a grotesque, monstrous expression.
"You... what kind of monster are you!?"
The demonic man's legs gave out beneath him. He fell to the ground in terror, unable to look directly at that horrifying visage without drowning in fear.
The other vampires fared no better.
"Monster!"
"Monster? No, no, no. You are the monsters. I am the devil." The man in the suit smiled, clearly satisfied with their reactions, straightening his jacket as he spoke.
"You've never heard my name? Of course not. Soulless creatures like you don't need to worry about hell. Looks like I let that bloodsucker off too easily... I'll have to drag him back in a couple of days."
Every word was blasphemy against Dracula.
Yet not one vampire dared to raise a voice in protest.
"What a dull little lot." Seeing them all frozen in fear, the man's face shifted to boredom.
"Well then, who's going to tell me how to get to Los Angeles? I thought I'd take a trip to the City of Angels. Fitting, since I suppose I used to be an angel myself." He asked the vampires, but none of them dared reply.
"What the hell! I dropped the hint right in your faces! Give me something, at least!"
He waved his hands before the demonic man and the trembling crowd, but they were still too stunned from having seen his true form to respond.
"Pathetic. Decayed."
With a sigh, he snapped his fingers. Instantly, a cluster of vampires disintegrated into black ash.
They didn't even have time to scream.
"The air up here is so much fresher. I'm never going back."
From his back unfurled twelve wings of pure white, radiant and flawless.
He was an angel of Hell, yet he bore the brightest wings of all.
Clearly, the true heavyweights of the DC Universe had entered the Marvel Universe.
...
The world was changing.
Meanwhile, Herman was still at his company, enjoying hotpot with his employees.
It was a feast.
Everyone ate until they were stuffed—except for Carrie.
Ever since she had joined, there had never once been leftovers. Her bottomless stomach was unmatched.
"Clean up the kitchen. I've got something to take care of."
With his hunger satisfied, Herman finally remembered Odin's reckless son.
He summoned Raven's teleportation and appeared at the spot where he had abandoned Thor. His voice had only just echoed through the sky—
When suddenly—
A massive figure brushed past him, engulfed in flames, plummeting toward the ground.