Marvel: Infinite Potential

"Snap! Snap! Snap!"

The sound of boots echoed ominously through the marble corridors as a squadron of American soldiers moved methodically through the stark white building. Each soldier was clad in state-of-the-art gear: light tubes affixed to their uniforms emitted an eerie glow, gas masks obscured their faces, and thermal imaging devices perched on their helmets. They carried pesticide-like tanks on their backs and brandished modified firearms specifically designed for their target: vampires.

The crisp click of their boots heightened the tension as the soldiers fanned out, searching for their objective. It wasn't long before they encountered resistance.

A handful of vampires, stationed as guards near the building's entrance, snarled and bared their fangs. One stepped forward, attempting to intimidate the intruders. "Humans? What business do you have here—"

Before the vampire could finish, the soldiers opened fire with precision. Special bullets, coated in a unique anesthetic mixed with garlic extract, found their marks. The vampires fell, their bodies convulsing as the concoction robbed them of mobility.

The soldiers barely spared a glance at the incapacitated creatures, stepping over them with an air of indifference. Their orders, as dictated by General Ross, were clear: neutralize the vampires and secure the area. Clean-up and analysis were tasks for the logistical teams that would follow.

Inside the building, the vampires had been preparing for something monumental. Deacon Frost, the orchestrator of the ritual, stood at its center, completely focused. The air buzzed with a sinister energy, and the ceremonial setup reeked of dark intent.

A messenger burst into the chamber, his voice trembling. "We're under attack! The humans—armed forces—they've surrounded us!"

Deacon didn't flinch, his expression cold. "Delay them. Ensure the ritual is not interrupted."

The messenger hesitated. "But they've brought ultraviolet emitters, garlic mist…"

Deacon's eyes narrowed, glowing faintly with an unnatural hue. "Then die trying. For the future of our kind."

Spurred by the command, half of the vampires in the hall moved out, their hatred for humanity rekindled by memories of persecution. They surged toward the intruders like a dark tide.

The soldiers, however, were prepared for this very scenario. As the vampires closed in, the light tubes on the soldiers' uniforms intensified. What appeared to be faint blue light to the human eye was, in fact, a concentrated ultraviolet beam—lethal to vampires.

The vampires in the front ranks disintegrated on contact, their bodies reduced to ash in an instant. Those who had taken precautions, like wearing thick layers of fabric, were not spared for long. The soldiers unleashed a mist from their tanks—a deadly cocktail of garlic essence in aerosol form.

The vampires gagged and convulsed as the mist invaded their lungs, causing their internal organs to wither. The remaining ones, driven by desperation, attempted a counterattack. A vampire hefted a massive piece of rubble and hurled it at the soldiers, crushing one unfortunate man on impact.

Enraged, the soldiers retaliated with flash grenades that unleashed concentrated bursts of ultraviolet light, vaporizing the attackers. The battlefield was a cacophony of screams, gunfire, and the relentless hissing of garlic mist.

Meanwhile, inside the ritual chamber, the ceremony reached its climax. Deacon stood in a circle of twelve pureblood vampires, all strapped to devices that drained their blood into a series of interconnected tubes. The crimson liquid trickled into Deacon's veins, a gruesome transfusion that served a far darker purpose.

A connection was being forged—not just with the blood goddess, the progenitor of all vampires, but with something older and far more powerful. A being from another dimension, a dark deity who watched the events unfold with detached curiosity, took note of the carnage outside.

Through the eyes of the surviving vampires, the deity observed the massacre wrought by humanity's ingenuity. Despite the chaos, it did not feel anger—only mild amusement. Sacrifices such as these were common in the multiverse.

As the ritual reached its peak, the pureblood vampires screamed as their bodies were consumed, leaving behind nothing but their essence. This raw energy flowed into Deacon, transforming his very nature. His mixed-blood lineage was burned away, replaced by a purity that made him the ultimate predator. His strength surged, his healing accelerated, and his very existence seemed to vibrate with unbridled power.

But just as the deity prepared to withdraw its gaze, it caught sight of something unusual through the eyes of one vampire.

Standing outside a nearby theater, a figure it recognized moved in the human crowd: Noah.

Noah was casually holding Gwen's wrist, scrutinizing a pair of movie tickets. Unbeknownst to him, a pair of bloodshot eyes were fixed on his back. Camilla, the vampire he had broken and molded into his ally, was watching him from the shadows with a sly grin.

Noah's instincts flared. He turned his head sharply, his eyes locking onto Camilla's for a split second. She offered him a toothy, mischievous smile before fading into the crowd.

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Can y'all give me a good slice of life fanfic? I, for some reason, really liked the "I refuse to become a scumbag in Tokyo," but the story kind of lost it's charm. The MC was collecting the FMCs like Pokemon. No offense, Akikan or any fellow Akikan readers; I'm also a fan. (Just because I wrote this, please don't expect anything good from me.)

Bring me the Power Stones! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)