Title: The Vampire King of Britannia

Hiss—

The brown-red automobile rolled to a stop in front of the apartment complex. The car door swung open, and a drowsy detective stepped out, stretching his arms as he stifled a yawn.

From the driver's seat, Rudolph leaned out, grinning.

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Lorien. Without you, this case would've dragged on for weeks."

Lorien patted his wallet with satisfaction.

"No need for thanks. If you ever run into another situation like this, be sure to call me."

Rudolph chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd prefer if cases like this never happened again."

With that, he rolled up the window, waved a quick farewell, and drove off into the night.

Lorien watched the car disappear down the foggy streets before turning back toward his apartment.

Room 204.

With a flick, he pressed the wall switch.

A dim glow spread across the room, chasing the shadows into the corners.

Dropping into his chair, he exhaled, then spoke into the empty air.

"How did revenge feel?"

A dark mass gathered in the center of the room, coiling and shifting until it took the shape of a tall figure.

Jack Arnold—his black cloak still damp with fresh blood.

His eyes scanned the unfamiliar space before he let out a quiet, dry chuckle.

"I always imagined demons resided in hell."

"That's just a stereotype," Lorien replied with mock humility.

"You see, I'm a particularly unsuccessful kind of 'devil.' The real ones? They live in extravagant mansions, untouchable, tax-exempt, preying on the world while sitting behind polished desks. I, on the other hand, have to rent this cheap apartment."

Jack fell silent.

Lorien, meanwhile, closed his eyes and focused inward, assessing the changes within his body.

The power fed back from Jack Arnold was leagues beyond what he'd harvested from mere ants.

"Shadow Manipulation."

"Blood Regeneration."

"Blade Manifestation."

Raising a hand, he flexed his fingers—

A tendril of shadow coiled up his wrist like a living serpent, solid enough to touch.

"Now this," he murmured, "is an entrance-maker."

Not just theatrics, though. He could shroud himself in darkness, vanishing into the night at will.

Then, slipping a hand into his coat, he reached around—

And pulled out a knife.

A long, gleaming blade, drawn effortlessly from a pocket that hadn't existed a moment before.

"No self-respecting ripper fights with his bare hands, after all."

The impossibility of it all should've been terrifying—

But in this world, it simply made sense.

Lorien sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Yeah… This 'vampire' thing is definitely not what I expected."

Spreading blood.

Creating servants.

And yet—no sunlight weakness, no unquenchable thirst for blood, no dependency on the night.

"Honestly? If you told me this was a god's curse instead of vampirism, I'd believe it."

If this were a game, he'd be at least a regional boss by now.

His fingers drummed idly on the desk.

"Better to stay under the radar for now. I get the feeling this world isn't as quiet as it seems. If I exist—there's no telling what else is out there."

He turned back toward Jack, who still stood in silence.

"You," he said, "are officially my first 'lieutenant.' I hope you like the name 'Jack the Ripper.'"

Lorien grinned, his brass-hued irises gleaming like flickering flames.

Jack was quiet for a long moment.

Truthfully, he hadn't wanted this.

He had agreed to become a monster solely for revenge. And now—what was he?

He had expected to feel revulsion, but instead, he found himself bowing his head in submission.

"Your will is my will. Your enemies are my enemies."

Lorien smirked.

"Now there's a proper response."

Jack had been a loyal dog even in life. It seemed death hadn't changed him.

"So, how do you feel?"

Jack took a slow breath, testing his new existence.

"I can… share my blood. I can create others like myself. But doing so weakens me."

His voice dropped.

"And every 'child' will be weaker than me."

Lorien's fingers traced his jawline.

"So the earlier a vampire is created, the stronger they are?"

The implications were clear.

He—Lorien—was the first of his kind.

A progenitor.

The first true vampire.

Jack was his firstborn, an initial creation. Any vampires Jack created would be second-generation. And so on.

As for creatures that had simply ingested his blood?

They weren't vampires.

Merely "Blood-Touched."

And then—there was something else.

A sensation.

Something growing stronger.

A pulse.

Jack furrowed his brow.

"It seems that by feeding on fear… by spreading our name… we grow stronger."

The realization sent a thrill up Lorien's spine.

Jack had completed his revenge, yet the power flowing back into him hadn't stopped.

In fact, it was still rising.

That meant—people had found the crime scene.

The name had been read.

"Huh."

Lorien tapped his fingers against the desk.

"That reminds me… where is Ivins?"

Jack didn't reply immediately. Instead, he lifted a hand—

A shadow pooled at his feet, rising and twisting into a humanoid shape.

When the figure fully formed, Lorien's smirk faltered.

Because he recognized the face.

A pale, naked body lay curled on the ground.

Scarlet eyes. Jagged teeth. Translucent skin.

It was Ivins.

And he was alive.

—No.

Not alive.

Something else.

Ivins gagged, clawing at his throat as if trying to retch. He tried to breathe, only to realize he no longer needed to.

Jack spoke evenly.

"He is my 'Corpse Thrall.' He exists as long as I allow it."

Lorien's fingers tapped against his arm.

"Corpse Thrall, huh?"

A puppet made from a dead body?

He turned his gaze toward Ivins, who had stopped struggling—

And was now looking at him with an unsettling reverence.

Ivins bowed his head low.

"Your humble, devoted servant greets you… great demon lord."

Lorien blinked.

…Well.

That was unexpected.

"Tell me."

His voice was quiet, but demanding.

"How does it feel? What's different from before?"

Ivins shuddered, his fingers clenching into fists.

"I… I think I fear sunlight? My strength is greater than before. And I—"

He paused.

His expression twisted.

"I'm hungry."

His eyes darkened, teeth glinting in the dim light.

Lorien's brow arched.

"Huh."

Wasn't that more of a classic vampire trait?

But then—Ivins' face twisted further.

"Master."

His voice was urgent.

"I have something important to tell you!"

Lorien narrowed his gaze.

"Speak."

Ivins' jaw clenched.

And then—

"I didn't kill Arnold of my own free will."

"I was hypnotized."

Lorien stilled.

Ivins' voice dropped to a whisper.

"The real murderer… ordered me to do it."

"And I… I think they're still watching us."