At this moment in the world of Night Legends, everything had changed.
Under Selene's rule, vampires had become masters of the European continent. The Eternal Faith flourished here. The Holy See, cornered by circumstances, was forced to choose cooperation with former enemies—werewolves and vampires alike.
After a long period of concealment and preparation, and after strengthening Michael's bloodline, a new breed of abominations had been created: creatures that feared no daylight.
If you can't defeat them, join them.
It was a simple calculus, and the Holy See chose to step into the dark. Many objected—even staged protests—but the Pope declared, "Light and darkness are one body. So long as the heart is bright, all things become bright. And… if we do not do this, our order will vanish."
So a great number chose to inject themselves with the mutant vampire gene. The old pope did the same. To walk beneath the sun and wield overwhelming strength—why refuse it?
But there was a cost.
They had to drink blood.
Otherwise, even a powerful body would wither and collapse. From bread-eating humans they became blood-drinking monsters. Some of the Holy See resisted this transformation fiercely.
They became Marcus's rations.
"Damn it! You still haven't found my brother's seal?"
"It seems Elder Marcus, you're very impatient."
The Pope, walking in front, wore a sardonic smile. Marcus gave a cold snort. It was his own brother they were discussing; of course he was anxious. And William had been sealed for so long that he would surely be more feral than ever.
Marcus had spared Viktor's life for a single reason: Viktor knew where William was. Without William, their dark kind would never be able to withstand Selene's army.
At last they reached the depths of the mountains. The air was ancient and still. Nine hundred seventy-three stone steps, slick with moss, led up toward a black doorway.
Viktor looked at the familiar place and sighed. "Do you remember, Marcus? When we sealed your brother here, we spent decades on a single monumental project."
William—once.
He was a terrifying werewolf. He recognized no kin and spared no life. Every living creature was the target of his attack. Only Marcus's voice could reach his heart.
They were brothers; blood naturally sought blood. But for everyone else, William was a nightmare out of hell. Those bitten by him were nothing like the lucid, controlled werewolves created by Lucian—they lost their reason altogether and could not even control their transformations.
Pure beasts.
Because there was no way to restrain him, Viktor had forced Marcus to seal the first-generation werewolf.
"Hah. You still can't help yourself?" Marcus said coldly.
The three Elders were meant to check and balance one another. Although Amelia had once been Viktor's wife, what affection could truly remain after hundreds of years? Most likely none. Only power endured.
The Pope did not interrupt. A black door had appeared before them.
"Open the door, and the world will fall into darkness," he murmured, "but it will also usher in light…"
Click.
The key slid home.
A dust-caked werewolf exploded from within.
"Roooar—"
No soul, only violence. Power radiated off him in waves, bound to no reason, caged by no thought. His massive bulk hit like a boulder tumbling down a mountain. William burst out and smashed aside the ones before him. Only Marcus remained standing—stunned, then almost tender.
"Hey… brother, I'm here to bring you home," Marcus said, breathless with excitement.
For a brief instant, the killing light in the monster's eyes dimmed. But the power boiling in his blood quickly drowned it out.
Three days later, inside a city, tens of thousands of werewolves appeared.
"Kill them! Reduce this so-called pure land to ashes!"
In the dark, Marcus's voice rolled like drums of war. The awakening of his wolf blood, combined with Michael's blood, had evolved him twice over. He could fly. His hide was thick as armor. Bullets were nothing. Rockets missed him.
The city plunged into fire.
People screamed and begged for help.
The Pope sat on a tower, looking down on it all with a cold smile. He turned to the cardinal beside him. "Do you see? This is the end of disbelief. Once the vampire queen's rule is overthrown, we can reclaim the public stage."
The cardinal, a man in his forties, stared at the distant blaze without a word. If not for his daughter—and the Pope's chains around his throat—he would rather have died than join the darkness. Light is light; it can never blend with darkness.
In mere moments, the cries ceased within a kilometer radius.
Because they had all become fodder.
The streets ran red. Shadowed figures leapt and tore through houses.
…
"What? An entire city slaughtered? By those monsters!"
When Selene received the report, fury flared white-hot. In mere months, the Western lands had embraced the Eternal Faith. Now this.
Damn it.
Someone must have released Marcus.
"Your Majesty, what are your orders?"
"Prepare the sacrifice. We will call upon the gods."
Selene had been one of the few in the chat group not to rush into sacrifices before, but the massacre left her no patience. She understood all too well: if she did not handle this crisis, everything she had achieved these past days would turn to dust.
A few hours later, one hundred and sixty cities lit their lamps. In front of each temple stood crowds of at least tens of thousands. Under the joint summons of state and priesthood, as befitted Western metropolises, the sacrifice at last was ready to begin.
Because it was broadcast live, the world fixed its gaze on Selene's every move.
The glamorous Vampire Queen faced the camera. "I know Murfield City's massacre was done by those dark creatures. After these days of preaching, you all understand the grace of God. But there are always people who cannot bear peace. They want to ruin beauty. In just a few hours, one hundred thousand lives were taken. This crime fills me with wrath. So—let God decide."
At her signal, a saint who had been imprisoned for months was brought forth. With him came the Holy See's sacred relics: a golden Holy Grail, a battered scarab, and a final object like a corolla woven of living plants.
Selene knelt and began to pray.
Hundreds of millions of believers—ordinary people and vampires together—bowed their heads. Led by their priests, they looked to the heavens, begging the gods to descend and punish the executioners who had shattered the peace.
Meanwhile, in another city, tragedy continued to spread. The werewolves' speed was monstrous. After butchering one city, they arrived at the next in the blink of an eye. Believers knelt, devout in prayer, unaware that monsters were already upon them. Many died mid-supplication.
These were ordinary faithful; they had not practiced the Eternal Meditation. The dead mounted hour by hour.
Within the temple, the residing priest heard the killing and sprang into the air.
"How dare you!"
Seeing the corpses strewn across the ground, he was consumed by fury. He vanished, reappeared, and blew a monster apart with a single punch.
But then hundreds of figures swarmed him, lifting and dragging him down. This priest was a teacher of doctrine first. He could fight, yes—but not like these frenzied werewolves.
He soon fell, mangled and still.
"No—Lord Priest!"
"Vimalakīrti!"
"Go! Protect the children! The High Priest is praying—God will arrive any moment!"
Whoosh.
A dark shape descended before them.
"God?" Marcus, hulking and monstrous, sneered at the words. "That doesn't exist. Kill them. Leave none alive."
A hundred howls ripped open the night.
The slaughter quickened and grew more terrible.
Even Lucian, who had helped release Marcus, felt his blood chill. The brothers were too brutal. There was no reason in them at all. No wonder Viktor, their sometimes ally, had sought to chain them. What a terrible weapon they made.
One believer after another fell to the monsters' claws. Following the scent of children, William, the first werewolf, pounded toward the temple. He bared his fangs and lunged through the doors.
"No… please, God—save us!"
A child cried out.
And then a shaft of light fell from the sky, striking the first werewolf head-on. William, who had rampaged for hundreds of years, did not even have time to whine. He evaporated where he stood.
The horror of it drew every eye.
A perfect round of radiance opened in the heavens.
"Oh, Michael… a miracle…"
"Are the gods real?"
"It's… brighter than the stars!"
Countless politicians and foreign commentators had cast doubt on Selene, dismissing her as merely a genetic warrior. But once the broadcast began and the sky itself changed, the world understood: gods did exist.
It was night—midnight in some places—but when the divine light appeared, the whole earth seemed to share one dawn. Many thought the broadcast a fraud—until they stepped outside and looked up. Only then did they realize they were seeing it with their own eyes.
A towering figure took form within the light—vast, holy, beyond words. People could only choose to kneel.
The joy on Marcus's face froze. His underlings crumbled to ash in the blaze. "No… I don't want to die."
In the distance, Viktor's body began to melt, layer by layer, until nothing remained but a pool of black sludge. Those who had been infected returned to normal under the divine light.
Suddenly Marcus felt a burn bloom beneath his skin. He looked down. Flame gnawed along his limbs from no discernible source. His body collapsed; his soul began to char.
A pain that bit to the marrow, like ten thousand needles driven into his spirit, consumed him.