A crimson shockwave tore through the sky, flattening everything in a perfect sphere. Stone vaporized. Shields screamed. Space itself buckled for a fraction of a second as the dome collapsed inward, then detonated outward like a dying star.
Damian skidded back mid-air, boots carving fire into the ground as he caught himself. His grin was already forming.
The bond snapped.
All sired vampires to Dracula were falling dead.
Damian froze mid-motion looking around.
Fire still roared around his fists, enemies still screaming, ships still falling from the sky—but none of it mattered anymore. The pressure he had lived under his entire existence, the presence that had always been there, even when distant... vanished.
His grin disappeared.
"...Say it ain't so," Damian muttered.
He searched instinctively—across the planet, across dimensions—pushing his senses harder than he ever had.
Nothing.
Something twisted in his chest.
For the first time in centuries, Damian Skyfather felt lost.
Jeryko stopped instantly.
He had no outward reaction.
The battlefield around him continued for half a second longer—then every hostile presence within range collapsed simultaneously, crushed flat by void pressure that spiked without warning.
Jeryko lifted his head slowly.
His bond was gone.
"...So," he said calmly to himself. "He succeeded."
Chance landed beside him moments later, breath steady. He didn't ask. He already knew.
"...Dad?" Chance said quietly.
Jeryko nodded once.
Chance looked away.
The war suddenly felt small. Stryx soldiers were screaming as the vampires around them continuously dropped lifeless.
***
The courtyard fell silent. Smoke, fire and blood hung heavy in the air. Balphomet stood above the corpse of Dracula, chest heaving, chains glowing faintly from the residual energy of the fight. The invincibility of an alpha was gone.
Balphomet's face burned with triumph. He had outmatched the ultimate predator, and survived. The battlefield was his, and nothing in existence could challenge him now. The First Fang was dead. The world had shifted beneath his feet.
Then... a sudden burst of heat and green light.
Balphomet looks up.
"YOU!!!!!" Damian said crashing into the ground barely missing—causing a huge explosion on impact.
Balphomet saw DarKai's fury from atop the crater. "I don't think I have time for another fight after that one. See ya!"
His body vanish barely escaping flame that would've incinerated him.
Hungry for blood, Damian looks around. "Where'd he go?!"
Jeryko appeared from they sky landing with Chance. They met their brother's gaze.
"The next move is to find him," Jeryko said.
Damian laughed, mockingly so. "Do it yourself. The old geezer met his fate because he believed in strategy over strength."
Chance stepped forward. "Damian—"
"SHUT UP!" Damian turned away, fists shaking. "He said he'd retire one day... Dracula planned out his whole life and stuck to all the so called rules. Now he's dead. Guess strength was more important after all. Never thought he'd die on his knees though."
Jeryko's eyes narrowed slightly.
"He didn't die weak," Chance said. "He died defiant. Sticking to his principles to the very end. Don't disrespect him."
"I'm going home," Damian said walking over to their fathers corpse. For a while after I got this scar I started to believe you were right. Now I know your ideals were outdated. I'm not saying strategy isn't important. But when your so far above the others, it's pointless.
"Balphomet will not survive what follows this," Jeryko said.
Damian looked back at him slowly. "Do what you want but I ain't killing him for the death of a man who hated me, loved you and cherished his teachers pet. But he needs to die anyway for the business. So I'll take him off the board for that."
"That's true," Jeryko replied. "But it is undeniable that he will die for killing our father. If that is your goal, then you are to stand down. You aren't to pursue him at all. This is a family matter now. Your job will be to deal with the TJS. Understood?"
Chance exhaled as Damian bolted off. "There's still a tone of soldiers. We can get some before they're all gone retreating."
Jeryko nodded. "That barrier he created. I didn't get a chance to view it with Rotetsu. It lasted a second but there's no way he took out our father in that little amount of time."
"It was daqui magic laced with temporal affects. It's a called time dilation. There's way of knowing without being inside but inside it—hours, maybe more went by. The user can set the law of time to their advantage in comparison to the outside world."
Jeryko looks over to Dracula. "Balphomet made a single mistake." He watched as Chance picks up their father's body. "He assumed killing our father would end the system."
Chance looked around. "And we learned something new. Killing an alpha vampire kills everyone ever sired by them."
Then Chance's eyes widened. An orange glow surrounded Dracula and he dissolved through his hands.
***UNDERWORLD***
The underworld did not simply burn. It celebrated. The flames were alive and the air vibrated with sounds of screaming, laughter, clanking chains. A realm that never slept.
When Balphomet walked through the palace gates demons and souls bowed instinctively, like the world itself was acknowledging his authority.
Balphomet walked down the coal road toward the throne room. Sparks flickered under his boots.
He reached the throne room and entered.
His children Jin and Raza were waiting.
Raza stood with her pink hair loose and wild, wearing only a black bandage wrapped around her chest and a black trench coat over her otherwise bare body, the scar on her lip making her smirk look permanent.
Balphomet sat on the throne. He looked at them with a satisfied grin.
"Okay," he said. "Now the real fun begins."
"You made it back alive." Jin's voice was calm.
"You sound surprised." Balphomet leaned forward. "I know very little about their abilities so a retreat was necessary."
"Far as I'm concerned one of them has draconic adaption," Jin said. "The other is immune to magic."
Raza chimes. "The oldest ability is completely unknown."
Jin's eyes narrowed. "You know they're going to retaliate."
"Oh but that's why I said this is where the real fun begins." Balphomet smiled wider. "Now that I've taken Dracula off the board and provided ground breaking information to the TJS they've already paid me. They also said that in case of retaliation they'll aid me in whatever way they can."
"And you actually believe that?" Jin said.
"Not for a second. They broke cosmic laws working with me." Balphomet reached inside of the bag he had on his lap—pulling out Dracula's decapitated head. "They got what they wanted from me. So now they're gonna leave me to fend for myself. Not that we need their help. It's a reason I asked you to take Warden of this Hell in my place. To keep not only what I've built with the Stryx, but my eternal demon army. My demonic here is stronger then the TJS."
"So what's our next move? You gonna put up Dracula's head in your trophy room and wait for them to come to us?" Raza walked closer and kneeled before her father. "If I may, I don't think this is a good strategy. Antagonizing them more than we've already done."
"Dracula's head will go on my trophy wall." Balphomet turns the vampires face towards him. He reaches in its mouth pulling out a tooth. "Vampire fangs cost a lot. But the fangs of an alpha have to be worth a fortune."
"You gonna put it up for auction?" Raza asks.
"Not just any auction." Balphomet tapped the armrest. "I want to draw them out. So I'll throw a ball leading them into a trap. It'll be perfect. Those hot heads kill their own when they feel compromised. They believe they're untouchable. All vampires do. But especially them."
Raza spoke first. "After taking down the strongest beings in existence the balance of power will shift. The divine will be back at the top of the food chain."
Balphomet's eyes sharpened. "I will be at the top of the food chain. And I'll work on killing Mephisto next to become warden of underworld itself. My army will be so powerful. And then I'll continue my conquest to the holy kingdom and destroy them on the Bloody Holiday Moon ceremony." He leaned back in the throne, as if he were already watching the chaos unfold. "I can't wait. But first I need to find a witch who specializes in . I won't sell all of Dracula's fangs I want to keep one for myself. Raza, I'll task you with finding them."
Raza stood up. "Understood."
Balphomet looks to his adopted son. "Jin, we'll be in charge of guest. Because I'm not doing the auction here. We'll be doing on Earth where they live. Bring the fight to them and end this once and for all."
***DRAGON REALM***
The Dragon Court wasn't carved for aesthetics. It was carved for dominance. Just black volcanic rock shaped by claw and heat. Massive pillars lined the hall scarred, cracked, pressure-warped from centuries of dragon ki colliding inside these walls.
At the far end sat Zegon. He was tall, had broad shoulders beneath a black high-collared battle coat trimmed in dark crimson. He had tan skin with long dark free form dreads. Hanging from his chin was a sharp goatee framing a faint, permanent smirk.
His red serpent eyes glowed watching the entrance to his throne room.
The pressure in the room wasn't magic.
It was a dense heavy ki.
With a slight flex gravity had quietly increased. He noticed someone entering his quarters.
The large metal doors opened and Rytisu walks inside. Behind him Reese and Rell followed. They each noticed the pressure in the room, but neither showed weakness.
Rytisu stood before the throne and kneeled. "Dragon King."
Zegon's gaze shifted lazily to the unfamiliar men behind him.
"To proud to bow?" he said, smooth British tone, layered with elitism. Now looking at Rytisu. "Why aren't these intruders dead?"
Rytisu looked up. "They aren't—"
"Oh shut up." Zegon rolled his eyes.
Rytisu tensed up. Not because he was scared, it was rage. The hate he felt for this man held no bounds.
"I know why you're all here," Zegon said. He leans forward with a gesture. "I heard about your Babylon proposal."
His eyes slid to Reese.
Then to Rell.
Waiting to see who'd speak first.
Reese stepped half a pace forward, hands relaxed at his sides.
"We ain't here to disrespect your clan," Reese said calmly. "We're here because the board is shifting. And when power shifts, smart rulers reposition."
A few dragon elders in the court shifted subtly at that.
Zegon's expression didn't change. "You assume I require advice."
Reese shook his head slightly. "No. I assume even kings don't like blind spots."
Silence.
"The Skyfather's can handle themselves," Zegon said. "You think I want Talmari scoping around my realm."
Reese continued. "Babylon controls distribution across multiple realms. Not small-time lanes. Major arteries. Weapons that don't exist on paper. Enhancements that bypass scanners. Product that moves without leaving a footprint."
Rell stayed quiet.
Reese kept going. "Every territory got underground movement whether the throne approves it or not. Difference is who collects off it."
Now some elders were paying attention.
"We ain't asking you to push anything," Reese said. "We offering control of what's already moving. We'll wipe out any small gangs that don't comply and create a protected and structured system that'll be taxed giving you a healthy percentage."
Zegon's eyes narrowed slightly. "You think I concern myself with contraband?"
"It ain't about contraband," Reese replied evenly. "It's about leverage, didn't and access to things you couldn't before. You don't touch the product. You control the routes. And when somebody steps outta line, you know before it happens."
Zegon's gaze shifted to Rytisu. "And this... was your idea?"
Rytisu met his eyes. "It is a strategic alignment. Could bring the clans more money and would allow us to expand without bloodshed."
"Your concern for bloodshed wreaks of bull shit. Dragons hunt depriving us of that will be defying our very nature." Zegon leaned back slightly in his throne. "Secondly, you're statement is hypocritical. The very people you're aligned with are my family. They've got more blood on their hands than anyone who's ever lived. You bring them into my realm and expect no bloodshed? Quite frankly you sound dumb little dragon."
Rytisu didn't interrupt.
Zegon continued, voice colder now. "And dragons do not partner beneath themselves. We conquer. Or we ignore the cattle."
Reese nodded once. "Conquering's expensive. Maintaining's even harder. Especially when bigger players start moving."
That line hung.
Zegon's eyes sharpened slightly.
"Babylon is the biggest player on any board." Rell intervened. "And let's be honest the Skyfather's are not diplomatic people. I'm surprised they're taking this route."
Zegon slowly stood.
The hall felt smaller instantly.
No aura flare.
No energy burst.
He stepped down from the throne platform, boots echoing once against stone.
He stopped ten feet from them.
Reese and Rell held eye contact.
"You two speak boldly," Zegon said calmly. "For something that would not survive a single blow from me."
"I'm not here to posture," Reese said. "I'm here because mutually beneficial power lasts longer than isolated pride."
A few dragons bristled at that word.
Pride.
Zegon's red serpent eyes flicked to Rytisu again. "And what do you seek in return?"
Rell answered this time. "Recognition of Rytisu's operational authority within Shiriguya territories. Gate access. Trade passage."
The air changed.
Zegon looked back at Rytisu. "Operational authority." He repeated it slowly. "So this is succession wrapped in commerce."
Rytisu didn't break eye contact. "It is evolution."
Zegon studied him.
Then slowly circled.
"Two hundred years old," Zegon said quietly. "Youngest clan head in history." He stopped in front of him. "And you believe aligning with mammals strengthens your claim."
Reese spoke before Rytisu could. "It strengthens stability."
Zegon's eyes snapped to Reese. "You will not interrupt draconic conversation again."
The room went silent.
Reese held the stare.
Zegon looked back at Rytisu. "If you desire structural change," he said calmly, "you could have approached me directly. Instead, you bring them."
That wasn't anger.
That was accusation.
The court was watching now.
This wasn't just business.
This was positioning.
Zegon's voice lowered slightly. "You have made your proposal." He turned slowly back toward his throne. "I will decide whether it insults me... or interests me."
He paused.
Without turning.
Silence swallowed the hall.
Zegon turned back toward them slowly.
The court remained silent.
Then he stopped halfway to his throne.
"Rytisu," he said, without looking at him. "Step forward."
Rytisu did.
Zegon turned.
Red serpent eyes fixed on him.
"You were given leadership of Shiriguya because you were exceptional."
A pause.
"You return attempting to renegotiate the order of this realm."
The court listened closely now.
From the semicircle of dragon elders, a massive silver-haired elder stepped forward.
Broad shoulders.
Heavy ki density.
"Dragon King," the elder said, voice gravelly. "If Shiriguya aligns with external criminal syndicates, it compromises all clans." He looked at Rytisu directly. "You would let outsiders establish footholds in our territory?"
Another elder spoke from the opposite side.
"Today trade routes. Tomorrow enforcement."
The court was stirring now. Zegon hadn't needed to attack. The elders were doing it for him.
Reese understood immediately.
Classic isolation play.
Reese stepped forward carefully. "Let's not pretend black markets don't already move through your territory."
Some dragons bristled.
Reese continued. "Difference is right now you don't control it. Somebody else does. Probably smaller factions skimming off the top. You don't lose influence by structuring movement. You lose influence by pretending it ain't happening."
Zegon watched him closely. "You speak very confidently..."
Reese adjusted his stance slightly. "I speak confident because I've been in rooms where everybody thought they were untouchable."
"Most of them ain't around anymore," Rell added.
A flicker of interest crossed Zegon's eyes. He smirked then straightened up.
"Very well," he said calmly.
In an instant blood sprayed from Rell's arm as he screamed. It happened so fast no one saw it.
Reese engaged but was punted through several pillars that lined perfectly connecting the floor to ceiling. His ribs all crushed.
Zegon turns to Rytisu. His arms raised. "I held back."
Rytisu charged forward. The two exchange several punches that were each blocked by each other. Both shinobi being able to see the frames of each others movement. It wasn't until Rytisu's eyes glowed with a light reddish pink circle around his pupils.
Murk Force: An ability allowing him future sight.
Zegon noticed that he was almost overwhelmed and was being pushed back. Rytisu's punches were landing now and he ends with spinning back kick that Zegon blocked sliding back.
The elders begin to move but Zegon's aura froze them.
"I AM ZEGON!!!" Zegon raised his hand an invisible force levitated Rytisu into the air. He begun crushing his body with overwhelming force of the Dragon King's mark. A tattoo that aligned his arms underneath his coat. "Let this be clear. I could kill you right now if I wanted. Let us assume I entertain this... arrangement."
He lowered Rytisu as he was walking forward.
"If the Shiriguya Clan is to gain expanded authority under my reign... then its leader must demonstrate supremacy without contamination."
The word contamination was deliberate.
He looked at Rytisu.
"You will sever external dependency."
The hall grew quiet.
"No outside enforcement. No outside leverage. You prove your worth alone."
Rytisu struggled to talk. Were it not for the mark he would stand more of a chance. "And if I refuse?"
Zegon smiled faintly. "Then your proposal dies with your credibility."
There it was... a political trap.
If Rytisu accepts: He must prove strength alone.
If he refuses: He looks weak and reliant on Babylon.
Zegon continued. "You seek operational authority?" He turned to face the entire court. "Then earn it properly."
***PLANET SURVADO***
Mrs. Jackson was halfway through folding laundry when the knock came.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't aggressive either. But firm enough to draw immediate attention.
She paused, towel in her hands, eyes narrowing slightly. Nobody knocked on her door. Not anymore. Not since Liza made sure of that.
Another knock. Same rhythm.
Mrs. Jackson set the towel down and walked to the door without rushing. She checked the ward glyph etched into the frame—still intact. No alarms. No breach.
She opened the door.
A tall man stood on her porch, hands visible, posture relaxed. Dark coat, clean lines, no weapon drawn. His face was calm and composed.
"Mrs. Jackson," he said. Not a question.
She studied him for a long moment. "You selling something?"
"Information," he replied. "And time."
She leaned against the doorframe. "I don't buy either."
"I know," he said. "That's why I came myself."
That gave her pause.
"You got a name?" she asked.
"Malik," he said. "I work with the Talmari Justice System."
Her jaw tightened slightly. "That sounds like trouble."
"It usually is," Malik agreed. "But I'm not here to arrest you."
"Then you're lost," she said. "Cause I'm clean."
"I know," Malik replied. "Impressively so."
That landed deeper than she liked.
She opened the door wider but didn't invite him in. "You've got three sentences before I close this."
Malik nodded once. "You're not the target. Someone you love is. She's standing on a bridge that's about to collapse. And whether you want to be or not, you're part of the decision."
Mrs. Jackson's expression hardened. "Say her name."
"The Arcana," Malik said. "Liza."
Silence.
The house hummed around them. Wards, old magic, protections layered with care. Malik felt them probing him, testing for weakness. He let them.
"She told me they'd come eventually," Mrs. Jackson said quietly.
"She hid you better than anyone we've ever tracked," Malik replied. "That's not luck. That's love."
Mrs. Jackson scoffed. "Love doesn't make her innocent."
"No," Malik said. "But it makes her reachable."
Her eyes flashed. "If you think threatening me gets you anything—"
"I'm not threatening you," Malik interrupted calmly. "I'm explaining reality."
He reached into his coat slowly and pulled out a slim data seal, holding it between two fingers.
"This is a standing offer," he said. "Full immunity for Liza. Every crime. Every undocumented action. A new identity. Clean slate. You get relocated under Talmari protection. No extradition. No reach. Not even from the Skyfathers."
Mrs. Jackson stared at the seal like it might bite.
"And the catch," she said.
"She walks away from Babylon completely," Malik replied. "And she provides us with all information she has on them. Along with helping us take them down."
Mrs. Jackson laughed once, sharp and humorless. "You don't walk away from monsters."
"No," Malik agreed. "You run before they notice you're gone."
"And if she refuses?"
Malik didn't answer immediately.
"That bridge collapses," he said finally. "And everyone on it falls."
Mrs. Jackson crossed her arms. "You think you're the first person to try and use me to get to her?"
"No," Malik said. "But I'm the first one offering her a future instead of prison or a grave."
She searched his face for a crack. Found none.
"You seem awful calm talking about ruining lives," she said.
"I don't ruin lives," Malik replied. "I end wars."
Another silence.
"And what do you need from me?" she asked.
"Nothing today," Malik said. "Just... don't disappear. When she reaches out and she will... I want you alive to answer the call."
Mrs. Jackson's shoulders sagged just a bit. The weight finally settling.
"You people play god too easily," she muttered.
Malik met her eyes. "We learned it from watching the wrong ones."
He stepped back from the doorway.
"I'll be in touch," he said. "One way or another."
Mrs. Jackson watched him walk down the path, her heart heavy, her hands shaking just slightly.
She closed the door and leaned against it.
"Lord," she whispered, "please don't let my baby die for loving the wrong man."
Far away, Babylon still stood.
But for the first time, a crack had formed where it mattered most.