"Hallucination?"
Locke shook his head slightly, but the moment he tried to dismiss it, the image of the campus reappeared in his mind with startling clarity. It wasn't vague or dreamlike anymore—it was vivid, detailed, almost as if he were standing there in person. He could even see the three girls approaching, hear their voices, feel the subtle shifts in atmosphere.
Something was wrong.
As he focused, the realization hit him like a slow-building shock. This wasn't just a memory or imagination—his consciousness was actually attaching itself to someone else's body.
At first, the connection felt unstable, like trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. He could sense the body, perceive through it, but control was faint and unreliable. The moment the girl's emotions spiked—fear, anger, panic—the link would snap, leaving him drifting back into his own awareness.
Gradually, he began to pick up on a pattern. When the girl's mind fell into confusion or fear, her resistance weakened, and his control strengthened. It was brief, fragile, but real.
Watching through her eyes, Locke saw the three girls closing in. One of them grabbed "his" ponytail, yanking it roughly. Almost instinctively, he reacted.
His hand moved.
He grabbed the girl's wrist and squeezed.
Crack.
The sound was sharp and unmistakable. Even Locke paused for a split second, realizing he had just snapped her wrist without hesitation.
There was no room for mercy. Understanding his current state, he moved decisively. The other two girls were dealt with just as quickly—efficient, brutal, clean. They dropped to the ground before they could even process what was happening.
Then—
The connection broke.
His consciousness was ripped away again, leaving him as nothing more than a spectator. He watched as the girl—Harley—continued moving on her own. When she lifted the unconscious girl's chin, exposing that pale, vulnerable neck, Locke felt something stir deep within her.
Hunger.
"…Vampire?" he murmured subconsciously.
The realization settled in slowly but firmly. The ability to remain inside her body for those brief moments, the instinctive pull toward blood—it all pointed in one direction.
Something had gone wrong.
"I never activated the Blood God transformation," Locke muttered, frowning. "Could this be tied to the progenitor body…?"
He dismissed the disturbing image of parasitic outbreaks from his mind and focused instead on the bigger picture. There was no sign of corruption in his own body. Everything had been optimized, purified.
So why was this happening?
He opened his status panel.
The moment the information flooded in, his pupils shrank slightly, his attention locking onto the ability module.
Multiverse unlocked. Concept unlocked.
Abilities: Fallen Angel (disabled), Vampire God (concept optimization in progress… missing factors…), Super Soldier.
Each ability is currently incompatible due to conceptual discrepancies. Integration requires dimensional points. Further details must be explored independently. The Ultimate Evolution Module requires recognition to strengthen conceptual authority. Spread your influence.
Locke's gaze lingered on the two abilities—Fallen Angel and Vampire God—as streams of information poured into his mind.
Fallen Angel (disabled): Affected by multiversal rules. Dimensional optimization in progress. Grants immortality, enhanced physical attributes, and the ability to enter a state beyond the perception of lower-dimensional beings.
Vampire God: Influenced by multiversal rules. Undergoing conceptual optimization. Combines the progenitor body and Blood God traits. Full conceptual fusion requires specific missing factors. Dimensional anchor established.
Abilities:
Blood Corruption — Alters the minds of beings whose blood is consumed. Any lifeform that ingests the host's blood undergoes unknown psychological shifts, trending toward bloodlust and emotional amplification.
First Embrace — Locked.
Transformation — Unlocked. Allows the spread of Blood God factors through biting, tearing, or scratching, converting targets into vampires.
Enhanced Physiology — A fusion of Blood God dominance and progenitor traits. Requires further conceptual refinement.
Shapeshifting — Allows transformation of form.
Blood God Form — Massive enhancement of overall capabilities. Optimization available.
As Locke absorbed the data, the lingering confusion that had been buried deep in his mind finally unraveled.
He had always felt something was off.
After stacking so many abilities, his strength should have increased exponentially—not incrementally. Yet when he acquired the Blood God's power, the improvement had been underwhelming. Worse, when he entered Blood God Form, his progenitor traits were suppressed rather than enhanced.
Even attempts to use both abilities together had resulted in an inexplicable disconnect.
Now, the answer was clear.
Conceptual incompatibility.
His abilities weren't simply powers—they were concepts. And those concepts were clashing, preventing proper integration.
"This upgrade… at least it gives me a direction," Locke muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly.
His current state wasn't weaker—just fragmented. If he could fully merge the conceptual aspects of the Vampire God and progenitor body, the result wouldn't be additive.
It would be exponential.
Maybe even something far beyond that.
Of course, there was a catch.
Dimensional points.
Locke exhaled slowly, shifting his focus back to the Vampire God ability. That was when the final piece clicked into place.
"So that's it… she consumed my blood," he said quietly. "Harley."
He couldn't help but shake his head. Gotham never failed to surprise him. Somehow, in all the chaos, his blood had ended up being ingested.
He wasn't worried about it being studied. His blood had already been subjected to far worse—an entire government had tried to weaponize it once, developing viruses based on its properties, and it still hadn't made a dent.
No, the real issue wasn't analysis.
It was consequence.
Even he didn't fully understand what his blood would do to someone else. The Blood Corruption effect alone was unpredictable, and Harley's mental state… already unstable in the future timeline.
Would this accelerate her descent?
The thought lingered.
"…Or change it entirely?" Locke murmured, a faint glint appearing in his eyes.
Harley wasn't an ordinary person. In a city like Gotham, where survival itself was a miracle, she had always carried an almost absurd kind of luck. She thrived in chaos, walked the edge of destruction, and somehow kept going.
If he intervened…
Would her path diverge?
The idea sparked something in him, the beginnings of a new plan forming.
But before he could explore it further, his vision blurred again.
Another connection.
Another perspective.
"…Here we go again," he muttered, frowning.
This time, the scene that formed in his mind was different. A sterile, brightly lit room appeared, its white tones almost glaring. Two distinct images overlapped—one small, confined, restless; the other still, staring upward in silence.
Locke focused, narrowing the field of control. The smaller perspective came into clarity first.
A cage.
A white mouse.
"…Seriously?"
Without hesitation, he cut the connection and shifted his focus to the second perspective.
The man in white robes.
Locke slipped into his body, the control far more stable this time.
"This is the power of the Blood God…" the man muttered, his voice trembling with excitement. "Incredible… absolutely incredible. This feeling… it's perfection. Hahaha…!"
The laughter echoed through the sterile room, manic and unrestrained.
Locke frowned slightly from within the man's perspective. Something about his mental state felt… off.
The man raised his hand, slowly running his fingers across his skin. What should have been aged, wrinkled flesh now appeared smooth, revitalized.
"Longevity… yes… this is the true path," he whispered.
His gaze shifted to the empty test tubes nearby, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes.
He had used it all.
Every last drop of blood brought in by the men in black had been injected into his own body.
"This power belongs to someone like me," he said firmly, almost defensively. "Not those mindless fools."
From the third-person vantage point, Locke finally pieced it together.
His blood had been collected.
Studied.
And instead of careful experimentation…
Someone had decided to inject it directly into themselves.
....
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