"These two weren't turned at the same time… this has to be tied to the evolution of my abilities."
Locke's thoughts sharpened as he analyzed the situation. The difference between Harley and the male researcher was too obvious to ignore. Through observation alone, he could clearly tell that Harley's mental instability was far more pronounced, her state far closer to losing control.
More importantly, he could briefly take over her body when her emotions spiked.
The researcher, on the other hand, was different. Even though Locke could establish a connection with him, control was completely out of reach. The link existed, but it was passive, almost observational.
The conclusion formed quickly.
Harley had absorbed his blood earlier than the researcher.
It wasn't just a guess—it was a distinct, instinctive awareness, like a source recognizing its branches. The two of them felt fundamentally different to him, like variations of the same origin at different stages.
"That's it…" Locke muttered quietly.
Originally, his abilities had been influenced by the progenitor body. His blood could transform others, but the process was incomplete. Without a stabilizing medium—like the parasites he had encountered before—he couldn't sense or control those he had turned.
They were disconnected.
But everything had changed after crossing into the larger multiverse.
His abilities had undergone a qualitative shift. Under the influence of multiversal rules, they had evolved, been refined, elevated into something more conceptual.
Now, under these new rules, he could perceive the existence of those who carried his blood.
And not just perceive them—
He could influence them.
As this realization settled, more information surfaced from his ability module. The transformation of his blood had occurred unconsciously, but if he consciously controlled it, the effects could be adjusted.
Strengthened.
Weakened.
Or even purified.
He could create something akin to the progenitor's "white blood"—a form of immortality without side effects.
"…So the control has improved significantly," Locke concluded, exhaling slowly.
His gaze shifted toward the panel again, locking onto a specific line.
Dimensional Anchor.
With a thought, the dimensional interface unfolded before him.
His eyes skimmed past the still-chained vampire-related entries, but something immediately caught his attention.
The Blade universe—
Gone.
Its dimensional cover had completely disappeared.
A stream of understanding flowed into his mind.
Integrated into the Marvel Multiverse.
Locke absorbed the information silently, then looked to the side.
And froze.
A massive dimensional cover dominated his vision.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
The scale alone was overwhelming. At the center stood Steve Rogers, unmistakable in his presence. Beside him, Tony Stark stood with arms crossed, his expression sharp and confident. Behind them stretched a vast lineup—heroes and villains alike, an entire universe condensed into a single visual anchor.
Locke's gaze lingered for only a moment before he forcibly looked away.
Even staring at it too long felt dangerous.
The cover pulsed faintly, like a living entity, radiating a constant pull—as if it were calling him, urging him to step inside again.
"…Yeah, no. Not today."
He exhaled and shifted his attention quickly.
Two new dimensional covers had appeared beside it.
The first was cloaked in darkness.
A woman stood at its center, her gaze sharp, her posture deadly. Twin blades were held in reverse grip, her entire presence exuding lethal precision.
Underworld.
Locke's eyes lit up instantly.
Selene.
One of the earliest vampire stories he had ever encountered. That entire world—vampires, werewolves, ancient bloodlines—had once fascinated him deeply.
"Now this… this is interesting," he murmured, a spark of excitement rising in his chest.
Vampires. Werewolves.
If his Vampire God concept required fusion factors, then this world was practically a goldmine.
His thoughts raced, potential targets and abilities flashing through his mind one after another.
But then—
His excitement cooled slightly.
The cover was gray.
Unavailable.
"…Figures."
With a quiet sigh, he shifted his focus again.
The second cover came into view.
Gray-toned, vast, and imposing.
A tall, armored man stood in a desolate landscape, black wings spread wide behind him. His presence alone carried immense pressure, as if it could pierce through dimensions and reach Locke directly.
Dracula Untold.
Locke recognized it instantly.
"…So that's how it works."
Understanding dawned.
The two anchored dimensions weren't random.
Underworld enhanced the vampire aspect of his progenitor body.
Dracula Untold strengthened the Blood God concept.
One refined the lineage.
The other amplified the divine aspect of blood.
If both were fully integrated—
Locke's heartbeat quickened slightly.
"…What would that even become?"
A god?
A demon?
Something beyond both?
He forced himself to calm down, suppressing the surge of excitement. Two high-value dimensions appearing at once was enough to shake anyone, and with his current strength, the temptation was almost overwhelming.
But he knew better.
Rushing in blindly was suicide.
He glanced once more at the grayed-out covers, a hint of reluctance flickering in his eyes, before closing the dimensional interface.
"Looks like I'll need to move faster," he muttered.
Then—
His attention shifted.
He could still feel them.
His two "descendants."
Harley.
And the researcher.
A thought surfaced, sudden and sharp.
"If judgment brings me strength… then what about them?"
They carried his blood.
In a sense, they were extensions of him.
If they acted—if they judged, if they caused change—
Would that feed back into him?
The idea was too tempting to ignore.
"…Let's test it."
Without hesitation, Locke relaxed his mind completely, opening the connection.
Two links formed instantly.
Harley.
The researcher.
At a subconscious level, he issued a call.
A command.
…
Locke turned, catching Emily during a rare lull.
"I need to step out for a bit," he said quickly.
Before she could fully react, he was already moving, slipping out of the bar and disappearing into the street, leaving her staring after him in confusion.
…
Elsewhere—
The researcher adjusted his black-rimmed glasses slowly, his expression shifting as he felt the faint but undeniable pull in his mind.
A pattern.
A signal.
With his sharp intellect, he grasped it almost immediately.
Instead of resisting, he did the opposite.
He let go.
He allowed the connection to deepen, surrendering control.
From a detached perspective, he watched his own body move.
Step by step, he left the laboratory—a place he hadn't stepped out of in over half a year. The guards glanced at him in surprise, but he ignored them completely.
His pace quickened.
Outside, he flagged down a taxi without hesitation, his voice calm but his eyes burning with excitement as he gave a vague direction guided purely by instinct.
The car sped through the city.
Eventually, it stopped near an abandoned cemetery.
The driver shot him a strange look as he got out, but the man didn't care. Alone, he walked into the overgrown grounds, where the air was thick with the harsh cries of crows.
"Blood God…" he murmured under his breath, his voice trembling with anticipation. "I haven't committed any sins."
He repeated it again and again, unsure if the one calling him could hear—but unable to stop himself.
The reason he came was simple.
Temptation.
Power.
Immortality.
As for loyalty?
He scoffed inwardly.
"A wise man doesn't stay with fools."
If the Blood God granted him eternal life, then any League of Assassins—any so-called organization—would mean nothing at all.
....
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