Lucius stepped over the threshold of Bckthorn's shattered estate, Nova following close behind. The noble himself remained inside, still prostrate and trembling on the cracked floor, forgotten in the wake of greater concerns.

  The king's power continued to radiate outward in visible waves, distorting the air around him like heat above summer asphalt. His crimson eyes illuminated the path before them, casting everything in blood-red light. With each step he took, the ground trembled slightly beneath his feet.

  Nova walked beside him, untouched by the overwhelming force that had brought the supernatural world to its knees. He studied Lucius with undisguised curiosity, noting how the composed king he had seen earlier had transformed into something both more and less than vampire—something ancient beyond comprehension yet burning with emotions as raw as any creature's.

  "Your car," Nova ventured, gesturing toward the royal vehicle where the vampire driver remained colpsed against the steering wheel, body contorted in helpless submission.

  Lucius barely gnced at the vehicle. "We walk," he replied, his voice carrying the same measured control despite the devastation still emanating from him.

  They proceeded through the estate gates and onto the main thoroughfare leading toward the city center. The scene before them resembled the aftermath of some inexplicable natural disaster. Vampire-driven vehicles had crashed into buildings, trees, and each other, creating twisted metal sculptures along the boulevard. Gss from shattered windows glittered on the pavement like fallen stars. And everywhere—on sidewalks, in doorways, spilling from overturned cars—vampires and wereanimals y in various states of prostration, their bodies trembling uncontrolbly.

  As Lucius approached, those nearest to him pressed themselves more firmly against the ground, whimpering sounds escaping throats that had forgotten how to form words. None could lift their heads, their bodies responding to a force more fundamental than conscious control. The pressure increased with proximity, creating ripples of intensified terror as he passed.

  Down the length of the boulevard, the effect preceded them like an invisible wave. Vampires and wereanimals who had been merely trembling began convulsing more violently as Lucius approached, then gradually stabilized into steady trembling as he passed—never recovering enough to rise, but no longer experiencing the intensified presence of his immediate vicinity.

  Human servants peered fearfully from windows and doorways, watching the strange procession with growing terror. Unlike their supernatural masters, they could move freely—yet most remained hidden, instinctively recognizing that something world-changing was occurring, something beyond their understanding.

  "They don't know what's happening," Nova observed, watching a vampire noble face-down in what had once been an immacute suit, now soiled by the gutter where he had fallen. "None of them understand."

  "Understanding comes ter," Lucius replied, his gaze fixed ahead. "Fear comes first. It always has."

  They continued through the city center, passing the grand buildings that housed vampire governance and aristocracy. Outside the High Council chambers, council members y scattered across marble steps, their formal robes tangled beneath them. Court officials who had been leaving for the evening remained where they had fallen, documents scattered around them like autumn leaves.

  No one moved. No one spoke. The only sounds were the constant low whimpers of creatures experiencing terror beyond anything their immortal lives had prepared them for, and the steady rhythm of two sets of footsteps—Lucius and Nova walking untouched through this tableau of supernatural submission.

  "Where are we going?" Nova asked, his analytical mind already adjusting to this new reality with remarkable adaptability.

  "The pace," Lucius answered simply. "Where you should have been from the beginning."

  As they walked, the devastation around them continued to unfold in new ways. Inside buildings lining their path, lights flickered and died as power systems failed without supernatural maintenance. Water began pooling from broken pipes where fallen engineers had crashed against control panels. The sophisticated infrastructure of vampire society, maintained through immortal diligence for centuries, began crumbling within hours without functioning operators.

  Throughout it all, Lucius continued forward with measured steps, his expression betraying nothing of the rage still radiating from him in palpable waves. Only the crimson glow of his eyes and the distortion of air around his form revealed the storm within—that and the continued forced submission of every supernatural being in his path.

  Thousands of miles away in the Northern Border Territory, Archduke Valerian struggled against the same overwhelming force that had paralyzed the supernatural world. On one knee in his military command center, surrounded by elite soldiers simirly immobilized, he fought to maintain just enough control to reach the communications panel.

  Every movement felt like pushing through solid stone, his muscles screaming in protest as he forced his arm upward inch by painful inch. Blood trickled from his nose with the effort, yet he continued—driven by understanding no other vampire possessed.

  After what seemed like eternity, his fingers closed around the communication device. With agonizing slowness, he pulled it toward him, nearly colpsing from the effort. When he finally activated the territory-wide broadcast system, his voice emerged strained but determined:

  "All Northern Border forces... this is your Archduke. Do not... be afraid." Each word required monumental effort, his body fighting against the overwhelming pressure. "That's... my brother! He is... just mad!"

  The announcement echoed throughout his territory, reaching every vampire under his command. Unlike the rest of the supernatural world, Valerian's vampires had always known of his brother's existence - each had sworn a blood oath of eternal loyalty to this mysterious figure upon their transformation. Yet none had ever known who this brother actually was, or witnessed his true power.

  "Someone... truly... infuriated him," Valerian continued, his voice growing weaker with each word. "This will... pass."

  Throughout his territory, the implications rippled through the paralyzed ranks. The mysterious portraits that had hung in Valerian's private chambers for centuries suddenly took on new significance as they connected to the brother they had pledged to serve without ever meeting. Most disturbing was the realization that if this brother could bring even Valerian to his knees, he had never actually needed their military service. Their entire existence as a fighting force seemed suddenly redundant in the face of power that could subjugate the supernatural world without effort.

  With his message delivered, Valerian colpsed fully to the ground, the effort of resistance finally overwhelming even his extraordinary will. His st thought before surrendering to the same submission as his troops was simple satisfaction: Finally, brother. Finally.

  Unaware of his brother's broadcast, Lucius continued his steady progress through the city center, Nova at his side. They passed the grand theater where vampire nobility had gathered for an evening performance, the audience now spyed across velvet seats and marble floors, the performers frozen mid-bow on stage. They walked by the prestigious Blood Tasting Academy where master tasters y face-down among spilled samples, centuries of sensory training rendered meaningless before primal terror.

  As they approached the central pza, the density of fallen supernatural beings increased. This hub of vampire society, always bustling with aristocratic activity, now resembled a macabre art instaltion—bodies arranged in postures of absolute submission, frozen in whatever position they had been in when the wave first struck.

  Nova observed it all with the keen attention of one who had spent centuries watching vampire behavior from captivity. His eyes missed nothing—the patterns of their falls, the subtle differences in physical responses between older and younger vampires, the variations in trembling intensity based on proximity to Lucius.

  "They're afraid of you," he noted, not as accusation but simple observation. "All of them. Everywhere."

  "Yes," Lucius acknowledged, his voice betraying nothing of whether this pleased or troubled him.

  "But not me," Nova continued, his brow furrowing slightly. "I'm not affected."

  For the first time since leaving Bckthorn's estate, Lucius's expression shifted slightly—something almost like tenderness briefly repcing the cold serenity. "No. Never you."

  Nova fell silent, his mind racing with questions he couldn't yet articute. Why was he immune when creatures far more powerful than himself y helpless? What made him different from every other supernatural being? He had spent two centuries as property, as a "pet" to be trained and broken, yet now walked freely beside the being who had brought the entire supernatural world to its knees. The contradiction made no sense, yet the evidence was undeniable—whatever power radiated from Lucius in waves, whatever force pressed immortal creatures against the ground in helpless submission, it simply... didn't touch him.

  Was it because he was a hybrid? But other hybrids existed—he had seen them occasionally at Bckthorn's gatherings, rare curiosities dispyed for aristocratic amusement—and they too had fallen. Something else, then. Something about him specifically. The question lingered in his mind as they continued their path through the devastated city.

  They continued their unprecedented procession, witnesses by hundreds of vampires who could not even raise their heads to look upon their king in his true form. The stories would spread ter—of a being trailing crimson light, of power that bent reality around him, of the mysterious companion who walked untouched beside him while immortals trembled in his wake.

  What had been Lucius's most carefully guarded secret for two millennia now dispyed itself throughout the city, permanently altering vampire society's understanding of hierarchy. The beings who had considered themselves apex predators experienced the truth they had never acknowledged—that something far greater existed, something that could bring them all to their knees without effort or expnation.

  As sunset faded into true night, Lucius and Nova finally approached the pace gates. The royal guards y where they had fallen, weapons scattered around them like discarded toys. Administrative staff remained colpsed at their stations, formal documents clutched in rigid fingers. The entire machinery of vampire governance stood frozen, awaiting the will of the being who had created them all.

  Nova paused at the threshold, looking back at the path they had traveled and the devastation that stretched as far as the eye could see. "Will they stay like this? Forever?"

  Lucius followed his gaze, surveying the supernatural world brought to its knees by his unleashed presence. For the first time since leaving Bckthorn's estate, something shifted in his expression—not softening, exactly, but a momentary consideration of consequences beyond immediate rage.

  "No," he replied finally. "Not forever."

  But as they crossed into the pace grounds, the pressure continued unabated—rippling outward beyond the city, beyond territories, keeping the supernatural world prostrate before power they could neither comprehend nor resist.