CHAPTER 52: 52: VAMPIRE QUEEN

"Aarghhhh!!! Get off me—let me go!!!" Little Finger’s scream tore through the night, high-pitched and desperate, the sound cracking with panic. His legs kicked uselessly against the ground, heels scraping against the dirt. Aaron’s grip around his neck was like an iron vise, fingers locked so tight that Little Finger could barely suck in air, let alone move. His nails dug into Aaron’s forearm, but it was like clawing at stone.

"Run! Everyone run!" the mafia boss barked, his voice trembling despite his attempt at authority. His eyes darted between Aaron’s glowing silhouette and his frozen men, the truth dawning on him in that split second—there was no defeating the devil standing before them. The only hope they had was escape.

"Run in different directions!" he shouted again, urgency spiking. "He can’t catch all of us at once!"

Little Finger thrashed harder at those words, desperation spiking in his chest. "No, no, no, no! Don’t do this to me! Please!! I’m begging you!!" His voice cracked, spit spraying as he fought to breathe. But his pleas landed like pebbles thrown into a void—unheard, unacknowledged.

"You guys can’t do this to me!!!" he screamed again, his voice raw now, the panic almost animalistic.

Of course, no one listened. They couldn’t afford to. In that moment, every man thought of his own skin, his own life. Saving themselves was all that mattered. Feet shuffled, bodies twisted to run—but before any of them could take a step, Aaron’s eyes flared a deep, unholy red.

The glow wasn’t just light—it was a weight, a pressure that crashed down on them like invisible chains. Compulsion. No words, no chant, just his will bending theirs until their bodies betrayed them.

"I... I... can’t... move..." the mafia boss groaned, his jaw trembling, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. His eyes darted wildly, knowing exactly what came next.

Aaron didn’t spare them another glance. They were already his. His focus returned to the man in his grip. Without ceremony, he sank his fangs deep into Little Finger’s neck. The sound was wet and sickening, followed by the slow, greedy pull of blood leaving a body. Little Finger’s struggles weakened, his hands falling limp. Aaron drank until the frantic pulse beneath his teeth faded, then let the body drop like discarded trash.

He moved on.

One by one, he descended upon the frozen group. A man. Another. Then the woman. Her scream was sharp, cut short as his teeth pierced her throat. Warm blood filled his mouth, a rich copper tang that made his hunger swell. He drank her dry, though his body told him he was already full. The need for flesh was gone—but the thirst for blood remained.

Then his eyes fell on her daughter.

The little girl’s breath came in sharp, frightened gasps, her small frame trembling. Aaron’s hunger twisted into excitement, an almost euphoric pull as he lowered his head. His fangs slid into her neck with a slow, deliberate bite. Her tiny hands clawed weakly at him, but his grip was unyielding.

---

Somewhere between the beating of her heart and the last gulp of blood, the world around Aaron shifted.

Darkness. Endless, suffocating darkness.

There was no sound, no form, just a singular thought that consumed him: Eat. Over and over, the urge echoed in his skull. Eat until you are full. In this void, there was no morality, no restraint—just hunger, raw and primal. With every imagined bite, he felt satisfaction spread through him, like a fire that refused to burn out.

Then, slowly, the darkness cracked.

His awareness bled back into the world, and his senses sharpened one by one. The copper taste lingered on his tongue. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air. And before him—

A girl. Pale. Weak. Barely breathing.

His fangs were buried in her neck.

Aaron’s eyes widened, a cold shock cutting through his haze. He jerked back as though burned. "I’m... I’m sorry," he said, the words tumbling out before he could think. His voice was hoarse, trembling.

The girl’s eyes met his—large, dark, and brimming with emotion. Fear. Pain. Anger. But above all else, helplessness. She had felt it from the moment she and her mother were dragged away, through the chaos of strangers killing strangers, and now, staring into the face of the man who had just stolen what little life she had left.

Her body sagged, the weight of blood loss dragging her toward the inevitable. She knew it was only a matter of breaths now. And yet, the man before her... the monster... looked nothing like the savage creature that had slaughtered without hesitation moments ago. His face was shadowed by guilt, his eyes heavy with regret, as though another soul entirely had taken his place.

Her lips trembled. "Revenge... I want revenge for... what they... did... to... my... family..." The words came in fragments, each one costing her more breath.

Aaron froze, her voice slicing through him. For some reason he didn’t understand, she seemed relieved to say it to him—even knowing he was the reason her mother lay lifeless.

"Revenge, huh?" Aaron’s voice was quiet, almost distant. "Perhaps... I can find atonement in that. Grow strong. Strong enough to get your revenge on everyone who wronged you—me included. Ensure you punish each and every one of us."

Without hesitation, he raised his arm and bit into his own flesh. Dark blood welled up, and he pressed it to her lips. She drank weakly. Then, with a swift motion, he snapped her neck.

He moved through the rest of the corpses, disposing of them with efficiency. Then he left—heading to the sanctuary. There, he drew from the infinite pool, filling a vial with angel’s blood. He returned to the alley, kneeling beside the girl’s still form. Carefully, almost reverently, he fed the glowing liquid to her.

"One final apology," he murmured, his voice low. He left her there, in the shadows, knowing her odds of ever surpassing him were slim. Perhaps she would forgive him. Or perhaps, one day, she would kill him.

---

Later, Aaron sat on the rooftop of a tall building, his figure hunched against the cool night air. Regret gnawed at him like a second heartbeat. His voice was little more than a whisper. "System... what I did... why didn’t you warn me?"

[Host should have known better.] The system’s tone was flat, almost reproachful. [Primordial hybrid or not, you are still a hybrid. You need to consume blood and flesh to sustain yourself. You just don’t need to feed as often as lower vampires. Since becoming a hybrid, you haven’t fed even once. Being cut and forcefully regenerating took a heavy toll on your body.]

Aaron’s jaw clenched. "I killed people... How can I forgive myself?"

[...]

"Say something."

[I don’t need to.] The voice was calm, unyielding. [You know better than anyone that you shouldn’t blame yourself, so I’m not saying anything.]

[What we should talk about, Host, is whether you’re sure about what you did. You made her a vampire queen. I don’t need to tell you how powerful that makes her, do I?]

"I know." Aaron exhaled slowly. "It was the only thing I could do for her. The others are here. I have to go meet up with them." He slid down the side of the building with effortless grace.

---

"Aaron. How are you? You acted a bit..." Alice’s voice was gentle but probing.

"I know. Out of place. Thanks for caring, Alice." He gave her a smile—perfect, practiced—but it never touched his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nathan asked, his expression serious.

"No. It’s fine. Just a side effect of my talent. When I’m forced to regenerate too much, I enter a... crazed state for a while," Aaron replied smoothly, hiding the crucial truth.

"I see." Nathan nodded. There was no trace of deceit in Aaron’s tone, and Nathan knew better than to press.

"Well, since that’s out of the way, can we continue our journey? I’ve had enough adventure for the day," Ryder grumbled.

"We can start tomorrow," Alice suggested. "It’s late already, and we all deserve some rest."

"Fine by me. I’m tired of sitting in the car for so long. I need to sleep in an actual bed," Nathan said, relief in his voice.

"Aaron?" Alice asked again.

"Yeah. I agree. We should all get some rest."

Ryder crossed his arms, muttering, "At least you guys should pretend like my opinion counts..."