The vampire collapsed into ash.
The instant the mana-infused bullet pierced his chest, Robert felt the explosion ripple—not through flesh, but through the corrupted soul that had been hiding inside that undead body. Like tossing a match into an oil drum, the mana ignited the vampire's spirit in an instant. Robert heard the faint, miserable howl of the damned as the body disintegrated so fast that even its clothes left no trace behind.
Environmentally friendly vampires, he mused. No corpses, no blood, no clean-up.
Robert had expected to slow the creature down—not utterly annihilate it. But when the mana fused into the bullet, it seemed to work better than holy water and garlic combined. The vampire didn't even twitch before crumbling into dust.
He blinked behind his sunglasses, then quietly muttered to himself, "Huh. So that actually works."
And then, another surprise—he felt the mana inside him stir.
It was subtle, but undeniable. His magical capacity had grown, like something had just been absorbed. A tiny boost.
He glanced at the two remaining vampires and smiled. "So killing you boosts my mana… Good to know."
From their reactions, it was clear the others had no clue what was coming.
The blonde vampire and his pale female companion stood frozen, their expressions flickering between disbelief and fear.
Even Lorna—still standing with one hand glowing green—was caught off guard. "Did you really just... exorcise that thing?" she asked, still in shock.
Robert gave a nonchalant shrug. His long black priest's coat swayed as he turned the pistol in his hand, mana still subtly glowing along the barrel. "Of course. I brought the best exorcism tools from the Church. Didn't even have to use holy fire. Pretty efficient, right?"
Lorna's mouth twitched. "I don't remember the Church endorsing exorcisms with firearms."
Robert raised the pistol with both hands. "This? This is a Holy Equalizer. Chapter seven, verse two: 'Thou shalt not suffer evil to live.' My interpretation was just a little... modernized."
The two remaining vampires, now thoroughly terrified, started to step back. The tables had turned hard.
They weren't the predators anymore.
The blonde vampire's voice trembled. "That bullet—was it silver?"
"Sterling," Robert said cheerfully. "Filled the casing myself."
"Damn it... he's a vampire hunter!" the vampire hissed, sweat breaking out across his brow.
In the vampire world, silver was death. Normal bullets stung, but they could recover from almost anything short of decapitation or fire. Silver, however, burned them down to the soul.
"Wrong again," Robert corrected, approaching with a casual stroll. "I'm a priest. A man of God. Technically still in training, but I've studied exorcism rituals for two and a half years. This"—he motioned to his pistol—"is just one of many methods."
The vampires gulped.
"This bar," Robert continued, his voice light but firm, "what's really going on here? And don't lie, or the next blessing goes between your eyes."
The blonde vampire didn't hesitate. "It's... it's all owned by Dickon Firth. He's one of the Vlad line, third generation. This bar's part of his feeding grounds. We lure people in, find targets, and take them somewhere quiet."
Lorna's fists clenched. "You were treating the entire bar like a buffet?"
The female vampire, now pale for entirely new reasons, added quickly, "He's... strong. Firth. You don't want to make enemies—"
"Yeah, yeah," Robert cut her off. "Basically, he's Kingpin but with fangs. Got it."
Then, without warning, the female vampire lunged.
She blurred with inhuman speed, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. A blur of pale skin and black clothing shot toward Robert, claws extended.
Robert didn't flinch.
His fist moved faster than her mind could register—imbued with mana, glowing with power.
BANG!
He didn't even shoot.
He punched.
The force of the blow caved in the vampire's face. She screamed, tumbling across the alley, her flesh burning as if acid had touched it.
"Ugh, gross," Robert muttered. "Your soul's even uglier up close."
The blonde vampire watched in horror as his companion rolled on the ground, screaming. The skin on her face peeled away, revealing bone beneath.
"But how—there wasn't even silver—!"
Robert tapped his temple. "Blessed mana, pal. You don't need silver when you've got the divine equivalent of napalm pumping through your fists."
Then, without warning, Robert stepped forward, raised his foot, and slammed it down on her head.
"Dust to dust."
CRACK!
Her skull shattered, exploding in a flash of light. Within seconds, she was nothing but ash drifting in the alley breeze. Robert stood up, mana still humming in his veins—and felt another boost. Not massive, but notable.
Power from purification.
He turned to the last one.
The blonde vampire collapsed to his knees instantly. "Father, please! I was wrong! I—I believe in God! I've always believed in God! Please have mercy!"
Robert stared down at him with a raised brow. "You? The only church you belong in is the confessional. And even that's pushing it."
The vampire was sweating bullets now. "I—I have money! I can donate! I've got a thousand dollars on me!"
"Now you're speaking my language."
The vampire fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills.
Robert took it, casually counted it, and tucked it into his coat. "For the church," he said solemnly.
"Wait," the vampire blinked. "Isn't this... robbery?"
Robert tilted his sunglasses down. "Robbery? No, no. That was a donation. God's work isn't cheap, you know."
He pulled out his whiskey flask and handed it to the vampire.
"Here," he said with a smirk. "As a new member of the congregation, you're entitled to one sip of holy water. Drink up."
The vampire stared at the flask, hesitated, and sniffed it. Alcohol. Nothing more. He even dipped a finger and tasted it.
Just regular whiskey.
He relaxed and grinned nervously. "I see. Playing the priest role to the end, huh?"
Then, trying to look brave, he threw his head back and downed it all.
"Cheers to God!"
He smiled, proud of his defiance.
Then his face twisted.
His body convulsed.
Within seconds, flames erupted from his mouth, his chest, his eyes. He didn't even scream—he burned from the inside out. A second later, he exploded into ash, and the flask clattered to the ground.
Robert bent down, picked up the empty flask, and dusted it off.
He sighed. "The Lord works in mysterious ways."
Lorna stepped beside him, still wide-eyed.
"Remind me never to drink anything you hand me," she whispered.
Robert winked behind the shades. "You'd be surprised how many demons die from a good drink."
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