Sullivan Apparated in rapid bursts, covering nearly five kilometers in just two minutes before the ancient castle finally came into view.
The structure wasn't particularly tall. It was built from weathered black stone and almost completely swallowed by dense, overgrown trees — no wonder he hadn't spotted it from the air earlier.
As he drew closer, Sullivan slowed down. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, gripped his wand in his right hand and his magical pistol in his left, and approached cautiously.
The closer he got, the stronger the faint metallic scent of blood became. His heart sank. Please don't let me be too late.
He pulled a small brooch from his Undetectable Extension Bag, pinned it to his chest, and activated it. A faint shimmering barrier formed around his body — a dual-purpose charm that provided both protection and complete scent concealment.
Given the heavy smell of blood, whatever lived inside this castle was almost certainly not human. Magical creatures usually had extremely sharp senses, and Sullivan wasn't about to rely on a simple Disillusionment Charm alone.
He slipped inside the castle. It wasn't large. Within moments he reached the main hall.
Inside stood one man and four women.
The man wore classical British aristocratic clothing with long, meticulously groomed hair. He was strikingly handsome — nearly rivaling Sullivan — except for a scar over one eye, heavy bags beneath them, and skin that had an unnatural, deathly pallor.
The three standing women were stunning. Despite the late October chill, they wore very revealing outfits — sheer gauze and low-cut tops that pushed their pale cleavage high. Their toned midriffs and long, smooth legs peeked teasingly through the thin fabric. Sullivan couldn't help but take a second look.
The man looked ecstatic. In front of him was a stone altar where another woman lay unconscious. The three others stood to the side — one curious, one clearly jealous.
Ignoring them, the pale man began making strange ritualistic gestures over the altar. Sullivan could feel a dark, sinister magic swirling around him.
"Hahaha! I never imagined I, Count Dracula, would capture such a noble and beautiful Metamorphmagus! Once the Embrace ritual is complete, I shall make you my Countess!"
Embrace… Count…
Sullivan instantly caught the key words. This man was a vampire — and the three women beside him were almost certainly vampires too.
The Metamorphmagus on the altar had to be Tonks. From the looks of it, the ritual hadn't started yet. He wasn't too late.
Sullivan quickly assessed the situation. With his upgraded strength and arsenal of alchemical tools, he might be able to hold his own against the Count one-on-one. But if the three brides joined the fight, he would be heavily outnumbered.
He gently patted the small head of Coal Ball tucked inside his jacket and communicated through their mental link:
"I'll open with fire and blasting curses to take out one of the women instantly. Then you take one, I'll take one. We end this as fast as possible."
"Once they're down, you run and hide. I have my own way out. Understood?"
Coal Ball nodded, though his eyes showed clear worry. "Are you sure you can escape?"
"Trust me."
Sullivan didn't waste any more time. He quietly moved behind the three female vampires, switched his magical pistol to the Blasting Curse chamber, took a deep breath, and struck.
"Incendio!"
A jet of red light shot from his wand, exploding into a massive fireball mid-air that roared toward the backs of the three vampires. At the same time, he pulled the trigger on his pistol. An orange streak — the Blasting Curse — followed right behind it.
This custom pistol had a mana amplifier. At Sullivan's old Level 5 magic, it could boost spells to Level 6. Now at Level 8, the amplifier could barely prevent the spell from weakening. That single shot completely drained the capacitor.
BOOM!
The combined explosion of fire and force slammed into the middle vampire, tearing her apart instantly and setting the remains ablaze.
The vampire on the left fared little better — one arm was blown off and her body caught fire. She screamed and rolled on the floor in agony.
Sullivan yanked the collar off Coal Ball's neck. The little creature instantly reverted to his true panther form, pounced on the one-armed vampire, and tore her head off with a savage snap.
But the vampire wasn't dead yet. Her headless body rolled, extinguishing the flames, then sprouted bat-like wings and lunged at Coal Ball, trying to reclaim her head.
Coal Ball yelped and bolted. Speed was his greatest strength — if he couldn't win the fight, he could certainly win the race.
The vampire on the right was luckier. She had been standing farther away and was only knocked back by the shockwave. She slammed hard into the wall but suffered no critical injuries.
"Who dares intrude upon my castle?! Sophia, kill him!" Dracula roared in fury, but he remained at the altar. The ritual was still underway.
He only needed a little more time to complete the Embrace — drain this Metamorphmagus dry and replace her blood with his own, turning her into his eternal servant.
Sophia, the surviving bride, opened her mouth wide, revealing razor-sharp fangs, and let out a piercing shriek at Sullivan.
Then she began to transform. Leathery wings burst from her back, her clothes vanished, replaced by thick grayish skin, and her fingers elongated into dagger-like claws.
She flapped her wings and dove straight at Sullivan.
Sullivan raised his left hand and rapidly fanned the hammer, firing three Blasting Curses in quick succession. Even without the amplifier, his Level 8 magic kept the spells at Level 7 power — more than enough against a vampire bride.
Sophia didn't dare take the hits directly. She zigzagged through the air, dodging the curses while closing the distance.
Sullivan was in trouble. Sophia's speed forced him to split his attention between shooting and moving, slowing him down. Meanwhile, Dracula was leaning over Tonks, baring his fangs.
"Expecto Patronum!"
Sullivan swung his wand. The Patronus Charm wasn't only for Dementors — it was highly effective against dark creatures like vampires too.
Blinding white light erupted from his wand tip, condensing into a massive silver raven. Since reaching Level 8 magic, Sullivan felt the bird had gained a spark of true sentience. The raven flapped its wings and shot forward like an arrow, straight toward Dracula's head.
Thud!
The impact sent Dracula flying backward. The side of his face that touched the raven sizzled and burned, skin peeling away to reveal bone and teeth. It looked excruciatingly painful.
But Sullivan wasn't unscathed either. Distracted by casting the Patronus, he failed to fully dodge Sophia's dive. Her claws raked across his shoulder, leaving three deep gashes.
Black blood flowed from the wounds. Poisoned. He didn't have time to worry about it. He reached into his bag, grabbed an antidote, and downed it while running.
At that moment, Sullivan was incredibly grateful he hadn't sold all his potions to Snape.
He dashed to the stone altar. Tonks lay there motionless, her silver hair shining. She was dressed similarly to the vampire brides. Sullivan couldn't help but glance at the deep valley of her cleavage before focusing.
He quickly realized something was wrong — Tonks couldn't move at all. Only her eyes showed life, filled with shock, relief, and tears.
"Finite Incantatem!" Sullivan cast the counter-spell, sending white light into her body.
Nothing happened. Was it not a normal curse? Or was his counter-spell too weak?
Suddenly, Tonks' eyes widened in panic. A massive sense of danger screamed at Sullivan from behind. He spun around just in time.
Sophia was diving at him like a spear, claws aimed straight for his skull — clearly going for the kill.
Sullivan's blood ran cold. He instinctively reached for his bag — he had a Portkey ready as his final trump card.
But before he could grab it, the silver raven in the sky sensed its master's peril. It banked sharply, turning into a streak of moonlight, and sliced through the air — and straight through Sophia's midsection.
Like a hot knife through butter, the raven cut her cleanly in half.
There was no spray of blood. Sophia's severed torso began crumbling into black ash, the disintegration rapidly spreading across her body.
"No! No! Master, save me!" Sophia shrieked, her face flickering between monstrous vampire and beautiful maiden.
It was useless. Two seconds later, Sophia was nothing but dust on the castle floor.
Sullivan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and pulled his hand out of his bag.
"You filth… I was imprisoned for five hundred years, exiled from my homeland… and now you dare intrude upon my domain and ruin my ritual? Human, you are courting death!"
Dracula rose to his feet. The burns on his face had already fully healed. He glared at Sullivan with pure murderous rage.
With a furious roar, massive bat wings erupted from his back. His body grew from a tall man to a hulking three-meter-tall monstrosity.
Sullivan commanded the silver raven to dive at the Count again.
But this time, Dracula simply reached out with a massive claw and snatched the raven out of the air. His hand sizzled and smoked, turning black, but he refused to let go.
The raven struggled and screeched, but Dracula crushed it in his grip. With a final mournful cry, the Patronus shattered into specks of white light and vanished.
Sullivan froze. A dark creature that could physically crush a Patronus?
He immediately realized he was outmatched. He couldn't win this fight.
Grabbing Tonks, he threw her over his back and cast a binding spell to strap her securely to him. He considered Apparition, but Tonks' unstable condition made Splinching too dangerous. The Portkey was safer, but he wanted to save it for a true emergency.
So he pulled out something else instead — a large, rocket-like device. It looked like an oversized skyrocket. He grabbed the handles and flipped the switch.
FWOOSH!
The "Sky Monkey" escape rocket ignited, launching both Sullivan and Tonks straight through a castle window and high into the air toward the distant mountains.
Three seconds later, they touched down safely. In those three seconds, they had covered nearly ten kilometers — roughly Mach 10. It was an early prototype escape tool Sullivan had built and nearly forgotten after learning Apparition. Who knew it would save their lives today?
Back in the castle, Dracula had just finished crushing the annoying bird when he saw his prey rocket away. He let out a furious howl.
He crouched and launched himself upward, smashing through the castle's vaulted ceiling and soaring three hundred feet into the air.
The sun hadn't fully set yet. Dracula hated sunlight — it weakened him — but he didn't care.
With his supernatural vision, he spotted Sullivan and Tonks six miles away. He flapped his wings and gave chase at terrifying speed.
Sullivan heard the sonic boom behind him. He adjusted his glasses to telescopic mode and saw Dracula closing in fast. He didn't know the terrain. Where the hell should he run?
He reached into his bag and pulled out a small vial he'd looted previously: Felix Felicis — Liquid Luck.
He downed it in one gulp. A warm, golden sensation spread through him. He abandoned the idea of using his flying motorcycle and instead followed his instincts, veering toward a specific cliff.
Dracula was less than half a mile behind when Sullivan reached the edge. Ahead was a wide waterfall with a roughly hundred-foot drop.
Sullivan reached into his bag one last time. He pulled out an RPG launcher.
If I can mod a revolver with magic, why not a rocket launcher?
He shouldered the tube, locked onto the flying vampire, and pulled the trigger. Thump—whoosh. The warhead streaked forward on a trail of fire.
Dracula sneered. He didn't know what the metal tube was, but he simply needed to dodge it.
He banked sharply, executing a perfect aerial maneuver. The rocket whizzed past his face.
Sullivan didn't look disappointed. He smirked and snapped his fingers.
BOOM.
The rocket detonated right in front of Dracula.
The explosion wasn't particularly large — it only knocked the vampire back a few yards. But this wasn't a normal Muggle warhead. It was a collaboration between Sullivan and an American Potions Master.
A massive cloud of pink gas erupted from the warhead, engulfing everything within a hundred-foot radius. It was a highly concentrated, aerosolized Confusion and Euphoria Elixir.
Dracula's eyes glazed over instantly. His feral expression melted into one of pure, blissful ecstasy. He was completely out of it, lost in a hallucination of his greatest desires.
Sullivan remembered when they tested the prototype. He had accidentally inhaled a whiff. Let's just say… it felt better than sex.
He tossed the empty launcher aside, untied the ropes binding Tonks, held her tight, and dove straight into the deep pool beneath the waterfall.
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