*Boom!*
The moment he confirmed he was entirely clear of the hunting lodge's perimeter, Locke unleashed his full physical output. Instantly, like a sudden crack of muffled thunder echoing through the valley, he vanished from his position with a sharp *swoosh*.
The little bat hovering in the sky let out a startled, high-pitched squeak, frantically beating its wings to keep from being drawn down and disoriented by the violent, instantaneous air vortex generated by his displacement.
...
"What on earth—?!"
Erin, who was currently relying on sheer grit to endure the overwhelming systemic torment and chemical craving, felt her pupils contract sharply. Spotting a silhouette materializing directly in the vehicle's path out of nowhere, she slammed her foot onto the brake pedal: *Screech!*
The Ford pickup executed an emergency stop.
And then... It ground to a halt precisely inches before making contact with Locke.
A cold sweat washed over Erin instantly. The sudden, violent surge of adrenaline completely eclipsed the baseline agony and physiological cravings racking her system, causing them to temporarily vanish.
But... Under the stark glare of the headlights, she took in the figure standing before the bumper. He possessed a pale, aristocratic complexion and piercing, brilliant scarlet eyes.
He was dressed immaculately in a crisp suit, and when he offered a calm, measured smile, two sharp, predatory fangs extended visibly against his lip.
Her heart sank into an icy chill. No matter how she looked at it, this individual bore all the hallmarks of a classic, high-tier vampire—infinitely more evolved and refined than the wild creatures they had encountered near Leica Lake earlier.
'Did he come for retribution?'
Erin's right hand slid downward, fingers locking tightly onto the grip of the service sidearm resting on the passenger seat.
Locke watched her movements, entirely unbothered.
"Step out of the vehicle."
Locke spoke, seamlessly altering his vocal texture once again. It was colder than his standard speaking voice and distinct from the sleek, clinical tone of the Peerless Assassin—it carried a hollow, echoing chill that resonated in the ears like the voice of a truly unfeeling predator.
Inside the cabin, Erin's jaw tightened. The very next second, she slammed her foot completely onto the accelerator.
'Step out?'
Under these circumstances, only someone with zero survival instincts would willingly step out of a vehicle and hand themselves over to a creature like that.
But!
*Clang!*
"What?!"
*Vrrr—!*
Erin kept the accelerator pinned to the floorboards. The Ford pickup's engine roared to its absolute limit, the RPMs spiking aggressively, yet the four tires remained completely stationary against the dirt road, spinning fruitlessly. The heavy truck was anchored in place simply because Locke had placed a single hand calmly against the center of the hood.
"What the..."
*Bang!*
Erin's eyes went wide. A heavy, metallic thud echoed from beneath the engine bay, and thick plumes of billowing white steam began erupting violently from the seams of the hood. The steam expanded rapidly, creating a dense, opaque fog around the front of the vehicle.
A moment later, as the vapors began to dissipate into the night air, Erin stared through the windshield, her eyes widening even further. The space directly in front of the truck—where the terrifying figure had been standing just seconds ago—was now completely vacant.
The sequence felt like it had been ripped straight from a psychological horror film, causing her to frown in deep apprehension.
"He's playing games with me!"
"No, I am not."
"Wha—"
*Clack!*
Locke's sudden appearance inside the passenger seat sent a jolt of alarm through Erin. However, the exact moment she attempted to raise her sidearm, precise, razor-sharp claws were already resting inches from her eye.
"Do not move."
Erin froze instantly, her breathing halting.
Locke didn't hold her reaction against her in the slightest. On the contrary, her decision to accelerate showed she possessed solid tactical instincts; under those conditions, stepping out would have been a massive blunder.
*Snap!*
With a fluid motion of his other hand, Locke swept his talons cleanly across the frame of the handgun she was holding. The solid steel barrel was severed into two precise segments. One half slipped from her grip, clattering sharply against the floor mat.
The next moment, Locke tossed the vial of antidote onto her lap, his tone maintaining its clinical chill.
"Open it and consume it."
"Not a chance."
Locke quietly studied Erin as she glared back at him with fierce defiance.
She spat out coldly,
"If you have the nerve, just kill—*Mph!*"
Before she could finish her sentence, Locke, having no interest in engaging in an extended debate, moved with lightning velocity the instant her mouth opened. He popped the seal of the antidote and neatly channeled the entire volume of fluid directly down her throat.
'Trying to drive into a reservoir to avoid giving me a chance to do a good deed?'
Heh.
'An admirable attempt, but when I resolve to accomplish something, nobody gets to cross my path.'
Erin coughed violently the moment Locke released his hold. She shoved the door open, stumbling onto the dirt track and dry-heaving in a desperate attempt to purge the fluid that had passed her lips.
But it was a futile effort; the substance had completely dissolved and absorbed into her system the instant it made contact.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes from the exertion. Her entire objective in driving down to the reservoir had been to submerge herself in the freezing water, hoping the extreme cold would shock her system and help her maintain consciousness through the impending peak of her withdrawal symptoms.
"Damn you!" Erin spun around, her eyes blazing with fury as she faced Locke, who was stepping out of the passenger side with deliberate grace.
"What did you just force me to swallow?!"
"A solution," Locke replied calmly, his gaze shifting toward the expanse of the reservoir as the midnight wind swept across the water. Without turning his head, he added,
"Now, leave this perimeter immediately. That is, if you intend to keep living."
As he spoke, Locke reached into his interface, selecting the pending notification he had left active on his dashboard.
Ding!
Task accepted successfully: "Interview with the Vampire"!
He had initially hesitated to engage this specific objective. Since they were scheduled to return to New York the following morning, leaving an unfulfilled entry sitting in his active log would have been a significant eyesore.
As an elite operative, Locke preferred to resolve his objectives efficiently; otherwise, an incomplete log left him feeling deeply dissatisfied.
But now? The wind had brought him fresh updates.
The scent of stale blood and the distinct presence of three rogue vampires were closing in on their position at a rapid pace. Locke's heightened audio perception could already chart their erratic, aggressive footfalls through the undergrowth.
Under these circumstances, they couldn't blame him for what was about to happen. As always, he consistently provided his targets with an alternative path, but thus far, not a single one had possessed the foresight to take it.
'When Heaven offers a bounty and you refuse it, you invite your own ruin.'
*Thud!*
*Thud!*
*Thud!*
An eerie, low whistling sound reminiscent of a spectral wail echoed through the trees, accompanied by a thick, metallic stench of decay. Following closely behind the scent, three rogue vampires materialized abruptly in the clearing, their movements jagged and unnatural.
Positioned right at the center of the trio was James, the escapee from the correctional facility.
Standing a few paces behind Locke, Erin took in the scene, a wave of profound shock washing over her features.
"There is no need for astonishment. It is simply the price of a compromised soul," Locke remarked, his tone completely level.
"Now, run. If you want to survive, do not look back."
Every system in this universe operated on the fundamental principle of exchange. Vampires belonged to an anomalous tier, and they were bound by the exact same parameters; they bartered away their core essence in exchange for an unnatural, corrupted amplification of power.
Unlike individuals who bartered with demonic entities—where the essence was claimed upon expiration—a vampire's core was entirely void.
The moment they underwent the transformation, their soul was forfeited as the initial transaction fee. Consequently, they required constant consumption to mimic the basic traits of living vitality.
Behind him, Erin's silhouette appeared entirely paralyzed by the revelation.
"Are you still here?"
Erin snapped out of her daze, locking her eyes onto the three creatures who were baring their fangs, wild traces of crimson still staining their jaws. She turned on her heel, preparing to clear the area as fast as her legs could carry her.
Right at that moment...
"Planning to run?"
*Boom!*
One of the rogue vampires ran his tongue over his lip and blurred into motion, vanishing from his spot with a dull impact. When his form reassumed definition, he had already bypassed Locke, lunging directly along Erin's escape trajectory.
The very next fraction of a second...
*Crack!*
"Ahhhh—!!!"
Locke tilted his head slightly, his left hand casually extended, pinning the lunging vampire securely by the throat mid-air. A look of genuine, mild amusement settled over his handsome features.
"I am standing right here. Are you... entirely blind?"
It felt like starting from scratch all over again. Locke suddenly recalled the early days when he first operated under the moniker of the Peerless Assassin; back then, targets regularly treated his presence with complete negligence.
It wasn't until later, once his formal notices began circulating, that targets spent every waking hour playing hide-and-seek to avoid him, never daring to underestimate his shadow again.
And now? During his two-year tenure operating through Texas, though he had only officially processed around thirty major contracts, he had carved that formidable reputation out of the compliance of nearly two hundred syndicate enforcers.
Major traffickers never traveled without a standard contingent of ten armed guards; neutralizing twenty targets meant clearing out their entire operational networks.
He wondered if the global vampire population even amounted to two hundred individuals. If not, establishing the baseline authority for his alternative identity, Cain, might prove to be a slightly drawn-out process. An alternative persona without an ironclad reputation was practically useless to his long-term objectives.
The moment the realization surfaced, a fresh prompt flashed across his vision.
Ding!
[Task generating...]
[Task: "In the Name of Cain!"]
[Base Task Rewards: 1,000 Achievement Points / 1,000 Potential Points / Luxury Store Discount Refresh Card (Value: 10%–50% off, scaling with completion metrics)]
[Multiplication Parameter: Influence Mode!]
[Accept / Decline]
Locke's eyebrow arched in approval.
The vampire pinned in his left grip bared its fangs with primitive ferocity, its features distorting into an aggressively bestial shape as it hissed, spraying saliva mixed with dark fluid.
But...
*Pfft!*
Locke's left claws extended smoothly, and with a clean, effortless twist, the head was cleanly separated from the torso.
"Disgusting," Locke muttered.
With a flick of his right hand, a pristine silk handkerchief appeared in his grip. With the meticulous grace of an aristocratic gentleman, he casually wiped down his fingers, though not a single drop of fluid had actually bypassed his defensive reflex. He simply found the proximity unappealing.
"Roar!"
The second rogue vampire, having witnessed its companion neutralized so effortlessly, unleashed a guttural snarl and lunged forward with explosive momentum.
By the time it took in the sight of its partner's severed head hitting the dirt, it tried frantically to check its momentum and reverse direction, but its trajectory was already locked.
*Bang.*
With a dull impact, its throat collided directly into Locke's awaiting left hand.
'Convenient,' Locke thought, looking down at the remains scattering across the soil. He continued handling his handkerchief with complete composure.
Operating without a widespread reputation certainly had its minor inconveniences, but it offered one undeniable benefit: when your title wasn't globally recognized, foolish targets would regularly walk straight into your hands without requiring any elaborate setups.
It was precisely like the early phase of building his enterprise—no tracking required, just processing targets as they appeared.
In contrast, managing high-profile hide-and-seek scenarios consumed far more operational hours. During his first active year, he had processed twenty clean contracts, whereas the second year yielded only ten.
The disparity was entirely due to the tracking phase; most of his operational schedule in the second year had been consumed by simply locating targets who had gone deep underground.
While operating with a lower profile had its distinct advantages, if given the choice, Locke still preferred to wield an absolute, unassailable reputation.