Vampire Progenitor System-Chapter 265: Nythra

The chamber Adam had claimed for himself in New Earth was quiet. Too quiet.

The air didn't move. The glass walls bled faint light from the city below, reflections warping as if the skyline itself bent away from his presence.

Adam stood near the center, one hand tucked behind his back, the other curled faintly at his side. His smile—the one he wore so easily—was gone. His face was still, eyes half-hooded, but the tight line in his jaw betrayed him.

He had felt it.

Lucifer's presence burned through the realm like a flare shot into night. He hadn't tried to hide it. He'd wanted Adam to know. That was the part that gnawed at him.

Stronger now. Far stronger.

Adam's gaze narrowed on the warped reflection in the glass. He could feel it as clearly as he felt his own pulse—Lucifer wasn't the same boy chasing shadows anymore. His strength had shifted, grown, and it pressed against the realm like Damaris once had.

Damaris.

The thought pulled a shadow across Adam's face. Lucifer hadn't reached that height—not yet—but the blood was there. The weight of it. He was close. Too close.

Soft steps echoed behind him. A voice followed.

"That's Damaris' boy, isn't it?"

Adam didn't turn. His head tilted slightly, acknowledging. "Yes."

The figure stepped into the pale light. She was taller than most, her frame sharp, her body streaked with scars that glowed faint red against skin like cracked obsidian. Her eyes gleamed like molten coals. Her presence cut the air, sharp and merciless.

Nythra. One of the adversaries who had walked through the old war and lived.

Her lips curled into a humorless grin, though her eyes burned. "I remember him. The father. Damaris." Her voice dipped, heavy with memory. "He bled me. Tore me apart. If not for the others, I'd have rotted in the dust where he struck me. I stabbed him, buried my blade in his chest, and still the bastard didn't die. Not until all of us dragged him into the dark together."

Her grin twisted further, teeth flashing. "And now his blood lingers. His son stands. Strong, you said? Good. I want him. I'll take him."

Adam finally turned, his eyes studying her. He didn't smile. "You can have him. But not alone."

Nythra's head cocked, the molten light in her scars flaring. "Not alone?"

Adam raised his hand. With a snap of his fingers, the chamber shivered.

Far below, the city screamed.

On the streets of New Earth, humans stiffened. Their eyes glowed red, veins pulsing like strings pulled too tight. Madness cracked their faces, and they turned as one, their voices lost under a rising, unified howl.

Not just humans. Above them, figures stepped through rifts—gods, but not the ones who had been worshipped in the old Earth. These were Adam's. Shaped, twisted, recreated. The myths of mortals sculpted into living soldiers. Zeus with stormfire eyes. Ares with burning claws. Bastet's shadowed form crawling along walls. They flooded the air, wings and power shaking the skyline.

All of them bent toward one place.

Toward Lucifer.

Nythra's grin faltered. Not from fear—never fear—but from insult. She hissed, her voice like stone grinding against stone. "Backups? You want me to share him with your little toys?"

"This isn't about pride," Adam said flatly, his hand lowering back to his side. "This is survival. We eliminate him now, before he cements himself. Before he becomes another Damaris."

Nythra stepped closer, her aura flaring so hard the chamber's glass cracked. Her eyes burned as she spat her words, sharp and venomous. "You think I care about your survival? You think I care about your games with gods and your leash on humans? This isn't your fight. It's mine."

Adam's gaze stayed steady, unreadable. "Then don't fail."

She scoffed, a harsh sound from deep in her chest. Her grin returned, wide and twisted. "Fuck yourself, Adam. I don't need your orders. I don't need your army. I'll carve the boy apart myself. And when I'm finished, his screams will make Damaris' death sound like a whisper."

Her body burned brighter, cracks of molten red running down her arms as her wings—fractured shards of black light—snapped open. She didn't wait for Adam's reply.

She turned, and the chamber split open with her step.

She descended, her aura ripping through the air, streaking toward the streets below where crimson already clashed against madness.

Adam watched her go. His lips finally curved into a smile, faint but sharp.

"Good," he murmured. "Let hate do what loyalty never will."

Far below, Nythra fell through the sky, fire bleeding from her scars, laughter breaking out of her throat as the city bent around her presence.

She wanted blood.

She wanted vengeance.

And now she would have it—against Damaris' boy.

Against Lucifer.

The streets of New Earth burned with noise.

Sirens wailed in the distance, glass cracked in towers, and the ground itself trembled with the steps of people surging like a tidal wave. Every face twisted, every eye glowing faint red, every hand clutching whatever weapon they could find.

Lucifer stood alone in the center of the street, boots crunching against shattered concrete. The air around him buzzed faint with static, heavy with Adam's pull.

But he wasn't looking at the mob.

He dropped low, dragging his fingers against the ground.

Lines cut into the stone as though his nails were blades. They weren't simple scratches—they bled with crimson light the moment they formed, glowing like veins feeding into something alive. His hand moved faster than sight, sketching curve after curve, mark after mark, the entire street trembling beneath his speed.

Within seconds the sigil spread wide, covering the street in an intricate web of circles and sharp edges, pulsing brighter with each stroke.

Vampire magic. Old. Pure.

The kind only a Progenitor could wield.

The humans screamed as they rushed closer, their steps shaking the earth. But Lucifer didn't stop. His lips curved faint, crimson eyes burning as his fingers carved the final mark and slammed down at the center.

The sigil roared.

The air split open above it, the glow stretching into a spiraling maw of shadow and blood. The street cracked under the weight of the energy pouring out. It wasn't just a portal—it was a door back to the Vampire Realm.

Lucifer rose slowly, dust sliding off his shoulders, his gaze fixed on the vortex. The hum of it sank into his bones, steady and sharp.

He had built the gate with one purpose.

To bring his armies here.

To turn New Earth into a battlefield.

But even that wasn't enough. A portal this size needed fuel. Power. Blood.

And as if the world itself was mocking Adam, luck stepped forward.

The wave of humans broke into sight at the far end of the street—thousands, their eyes glowing, their screams carrying. They surged like one body, red light dripping off their skin as though madness itself had crawled inside them.

Lucifer's smirk sharpened.

"Perfect."

He raised his hand. Shadows swirled around his arm, stretching out into jagged spears of blood-red light. His aura poured into the air, so heavy that windows shattered above, glass raining down.

The humans didn't slow.

Lucifer spread his arms wide. "Come, then."

The first reached him, a man swinging a broken pipe like a blade. Lucifer's shadows impaled him mid-swing, blood spraying across the glowing sigil. The crimson light swallowed it whole, pulsing brighter.

The next five leapt together. Lucifer's hand flicked, and their bodies tore apart mid-air, blood raining in arcs that splashed against the portal.

The gate pulsed again. Hungrier.

The horde screamed louder, rushing faster, their weapons glinting in the neon haze.

Lucifer stepped forward into them. His shadows flared, slicing clean through the first ranks. Limbs hit the ground, blood soaking into the cracks of the street. Each drop was drawn into the sigil, feeding it, growing it.

And with every kill, the portal widened.

He moved like smoke, weaving through the mob with his bare hands and claws. One throat torn, another chest ripped open, a skull crushed under his boot. Blood sprayed, pooled, ran in rivers, every ounce devoured by the glowing lines beneath his feet.

The humans kept coming. A thousand more, then more beyond that, driven by Adam's will. But they were only fuel now.

Lucifer's grin widened as the glow rose high, casting the entire street in crimson. His cloakless frame stood tall at the center, his presence towering like a god made of hunger.

Behind him, the portal stretched wider, deeper. Shapes flickered within it—shadows, armor, eyes burning red in the dark.

The Vampire Realm was answering his call.

And New Earth was about to drown in it.