Marvel Ultimate Gacha

Michael burst into the bar, his heart pounding and blood boiling as he took in the grim scene. Camille stood there, her eyes vacant, pouring her own blood into a glass. The sight twisted his stomach, and rage bubbled up within him. "She's compelled," he muttered under his breath, fury sharpening his focus.

His gaze darted around the room, locking onto a wooden chair nearby. "[Spiritokinesis]," he whispered, channeling his newfound magic. The chair trembled, splintering into jagged pieces. One shard hovered in the air as Michael aimed it at the vampire holding the glass of Camille's blood.

Before he could act, a commanding voice cut through the tension.

"What's this?" Marcel, the leader, strode into the room, his eyes narrowing at the chaos. "Looks like we've got a little witch in the mix," he sneered, his gaze scanning the space.

"Whoever you are," Marcel continued coldly, "I suggest you stop this foolishness now. Witchcraft is forbidden here. You might hide, but I'll find you." His eyes glowed an ominous red, black veins creeping along his face as his tone turned lethal. "Come out voluntarily, or I'll kill you where you stand."

Michael didn't move. Instead, he smirked in defiance and raised the wooden shard higher. Without hesitation, he hurled it with deadly precision.

The stake pierced the vampire Diago's chest, cutting off his smirk. Diago's body stiffened, his skin withering and turning gray before he crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Camille gasped as the compulsion shattered, clarity returning to her eyes. She stumbled back, confusion and horror sweeping over her as she took in the blood-streaked floor and macabre scene.

Marcel knelt beside Diago, his jaw tight with fury. "Diago…" he muttered under his breath. Despite his efforts, his subordinate was gone.

Camille's wide eyes landed on April, slumped over the counter, blood trailing from her neck. A group of vampires continued to drink from her, their sickening indulgence turning Camille's stomach. "What… what is this?!" she cried, her voice trembling.

Marcel turned his burning gaze on Camille, anger and calculation flickering in his expression. "You," he said darkly, stepping closer. "Who are you?" He reached for her neck, inspecting it. "How are you even here?"

Camille pushed him away, her voice breaking. "I don't care about any of this—I just want my friend, April!" she shouted, desperation ringing through her words.

Marcel's patience snapped. His tone turned icy. "Your presence here killed my friend," he growled, gesturing at Diago's withered remains. "You don't get to make demands. Tell me who did this."

Compelled by Marcel's piercing gaze, Camille stammered, "It… it wasn't me. It was… someone else." She hesitated before whispering, "His name is Michael White."

Marcel frowned, confusion crossing his face. "Michael White? Who is he? Where is he?"

Camille, her voice shaky, pointed to an empty space beside her. "He's here…" she whispered, as though an unseen force guided her words.

Marcel followed her gaze, his expression darkening. "Invisible, are we?" he sneered. "Cowardly tricks won't save you, Warlock."

Michael remained silent, his anger simmering as Marcel stepped closer to Camille, gripping her neck. "If you won't tell me more, you're of no use," he snarled before snapping her neck in one swift motion.

"NO!" Michael roared, his voice reverberating through the room as he unleashed a burst of spirit magic. Marcel staggered backward, releasing Camille's lifeless body.

Michael dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he cradled her. "Camille…" he whispered, his voice breaking. The weight of her death crushed him, anger and sorrow warring within him.

Marcel sneered, grabbing April's unconscious form. "Show yourself, or this one dies next," he threatened, his smirk dripping with malice.

Michael's eyes burned with fury. The air crackled with energy as he raised his hand. The bar erupted in chaos—windows shattered, chairs splintered, and wooden shards flew with deadly precision. Vampires screamed as the stakes pierced their chests, their bodies withering into gray husks.

Marcel barely dodged one shard, his expression hardening as he realized the attack wasn't random—it was intentional. Knowing he was outmatched, he fled the bar.

Outside, Marcel regrouped with a handful of vampires. One stepped forward. "What was that?"

"I don't know," Marcel admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "Burn it to the ground," he ordered coldly.

The vampires compelled civilians to leave before setting the bar ablaze. Marcel watched the flames consume the building before turning on his heel and heading back to the church attic.

There, a woman awaited him. "Diana," Marcel called, his voice tense.

"What is it?" Diana asked, looking at him, tearing her eyes off her book.

"We lost seventeen men," Marcel said, pacing. "Someone used magic—a witch or warlock, I don't know. But no one should've been able to do this."

Diana frowned. "I didn't sense anyone using magic," she replied.

Marcel's frustration deepened. "Then how do you explain the stakes? The precision? We're losing control of our territory."

Diana stepped forward, her gaze steady. "Let me look into it," she said, her tone resolute. She began channeling her own magic to uncover the truth behind the attack.

Closing her eyes, Diana chanted in an ancient language, her hands weaving intricate gestures in the air. Witches drew power from everything around them, and she focused on the flames, drawing their energy to fuel her magic. After a moment, she opened her eyes and exhaled softly. "There's no one else using magic," she said, her voice steady.

"Are you sure?" Marcel asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

"I know what I saw," Marcel replied firmly. "That wooden stake was guided with magic—only someone like a witch could do that." he paused, as her brow furrowing as she sensed deeper. "But there was no one using magic. I've scanned the entire quarter with my magic, and nothing. Not even the slightest trace of a spell. Someone using magic could not have gone unnoticed by me."

" are you saying there is an more powerful witch then you in this town?" Marcel asked as Diana looked at him.

" I am afraid that's the matter" She replied her tone grim.

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