Starting as a Class Five Mutant

"Handsome, here alone?"

"How about a drink with me?"

The sultry voice of Dilia cut through the din of the bar as she leaned in closer, her red-painted nails tapping the counter.

Far away, Carel, the exorcist, cursed under his breath.

"Damn it… this kid's done for. She'll seduce him, drain him dry, and leave him as a husk…"

Syd's calm gaze finally shifted from the ominously crimson Bloody Mary to the vampire before him. Unfazed by her proximity or the predatory gleam in her eyes, he uttered words that sent shockwaves across the room.

"You're not worthy."

The entire bar fell silent.

Even the bartender, who had been polishing glasses with an eerie calm, froze mid-motion.

Dilia's inviting smile twisted into a snarl, her crimson lips curling back to reveal her razor-sharp fangs.

"You insolent little human!" she spat, her face contorting into a visage of rage.

In an instant, her predatory instincts took over.

"Die!"

With a guttural hiss, Dilia lunged at Syd, her clawed hand poised to strike.

Bang!

A sudden gunshot echoed through the bar.

Dilia recoiled, clutching her smoldering hand. Silver smoke curled from the wound as she screamed in agony.

"Blessed silver bullets?" she hissed.

Her glowing red eyes turned toward the source of the shot—Carel, the exorcist, his silver revolver still smoking.

"I won't let you harm him!" Carel shouted.

Before Dilia could retaliate, Carel fired another round, forcing her to retreat with a screech.

The exorcist wasted no time, rushing to Syd's side. Grabbing his arm, he barked, "Move! We need to get out of here now!"

Ignoring Syd's unreadable expression, Carel dragged him toward the exit, shouting hurried instructions.

"Run straight, don't look back, and don't stop until you're safe!"

But the vampires were faster.

Within moments, the bar's patrons, now baring their fangs, encircled them.

"Two morsels have walked right into our den," one of the vampires sneered.

"This one smells sweet. I call dibs on his blood!"

Carel gritted his teeth, pulling a flask of holy water from his coat.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, he splashed the consecrated liquid toward the advancing vampires.

The holy water sizzled as it hit their skin, drawing anguished cries from those unfortunate enough to be caught.

"Holy water?!"

"How quaint," another vampire snarled, his lips pulling back into a sinister grin.

Despite his efforts, Carel knew the odds were grim. As the vampires regrouped and prepared to pounce, Dilia reappeared, her fangs bared in triumph.

She zeroed in on Syd, sneering.

"Protecting this little lamb? I'll kill him first and drink his blood while you watch!"

With a cruel laugh, she reached for Syd, her claws flashing in the dim light.

And then, nothing happened.

No screams, no struggle.

Dilia's hand, despite all her strength, couldn't budge Syd an inch. Her smirk faltered, replaced by confusion, then frustration.

"What's this?" she growled, her claws straining against an unyielding force.

Syd remained still, his arms crossed, his posture relaxed.

"You dare mock me?" Dilia hissed, pouring every ounce of her supernatural strength into the attempt.

Her fangs gleamed, her muscles bulged, but Syd didn't move.

Her frustration turned to fear as she realized her efforts were futile.

"What… what are you?"

The other vampires, who had been watching with smug amusement, fell silent as they realized something was wrong.

"Why isn't he…"

"Is that kid… normal?"

Carel, who had been bracing himself for the worst, stood frozen, his jaw slack.

"What the hell am I seeing?" he muttered.

With a calm voice, Syd finally broke the tension.

"Are you done?"

His words carried a weight that silenced the entire room.

Dilia staggered back, her once-predatory demeanor now replaced by a trembling fear she couldn't quite explain.

"Who… what are you?"

The rest of the vampires took a collective step back, suddenly unsure if they were still the predators in this scenario.

Syd adjusted his sunglasses, a faint smirk curling his lips.

"I came here for a drink, not to clean up trash," he said casually, his tone laced with subtle menace.

And in that moment, the vampires understood—they weren't dealing with prey.

They were the hunted.

(To be continued…)

(End of Chapter)

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