Sea God of Strait of Georgia

150 Sea God of Strait of Georgia

Vancouver, Cascadia.

The city buzzed with its usual energy, crowds thronging the sidewalks, cars honking impatiently in traffic, and the skytrain rattling along its elevated tracks.

At the cafe, the barista struggled to keep up with the influx of customers, their orders a constant stream of caffeinated requests. Yet despite the brisk business, tips were noticeably sparse.

Most citizens remained oblivious to the gathering storm. News reports hinted at unrest, but the details were vague, shrouded in official statements and expert opinions that seemed designed to obfuscate rather than inform.

But their unease was a tangible thing, a primal instinct honed by centuries of living in the shadow of the vampires.

They noticed politicians furrowing their brows during press conference, police officers sighing during their patrols and more unfamiliar martial artists with grave expressions throughout the city.

They began stocking their pantries with non-perishables, topping up their gas tanks, and discreetly withdrawing cash from their bank accounts–a subtle nod to the possibility of a sudden lockdown.

A taxi crept down the long street and came to a stop before the H.A.R.M. General's Mansion, whose weathered facade showing years without renovation.

In front of the gate stood an old man with trembling hands, carefully sweeping fallen leaves with his broom.

He seemed to be a little hard of hearing. It wasn't until the passenger walked up to him and shouted three times that the old man looked up, dazed. "Who are you looking for?"

The next moment, the figure from the taxi caused him to instinctively drop his broom. He struggled to straighten his hunched back and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Tito Flores at your service, sir!"

The young man wore a wide-brimmed hat with five stars embroidered across the H.A.R.M. sigil at its center. His cloak, decorated with a fierce wolf swallowing the moon, draped over his shoulders. His black uniform displayed no stars along the sleeves and chest, yet its collar was embroidered with the full moon. He wore a metallic belt with a three-foot black blade slung diagonally across it.

All of this indicated that the young man was his superior, a personal attendant colonel guarding Vancouver.

But that young, fair face troubled Tito and made him self-reproachful. He racked his brains but couldn't remember the young colonel's name. He was truly getting old and forgetful!

With a slight nod, I said in a gentle tone, "Please inform General Grant that John Kane has information to deliver from General Patani."

"Yes, sir. yes, Colonel Kane, please wait a moment. I'll go right away! I'll go right away!" Tito seemed a little overwhelmed, turning around excitedly, then smacked his forehead in frustration.

He turned back once more. "Colonel, General Grant isn't in the mansion."

Tito's shout must have alerted those inside, as several young agents rushed out. Upon seeing my attire, they froze momentarily. Then one of them had a flash of recognition. "You're the one from Crown Mountain... Colonel Kane, please come in!"

Suddenly, the young captain remembered the ban. Colonel Kane's slaying of the Leviasaur was classified as top secret. He had merely overheard a fragment of conversation between two colonels about it, which had earned him immediate expulsion from the camp.

"I never thought General Grant would even summon you back for this mission."

Several people ushered me into the mansion with warm greetings. "Colonel Kane, are you heading to Strait of Georgia?"

"What happened?" I stopped in my tracks.

The agents exchanged glances and sighed. "The Pacific Leviasaur has gone mad for some reason. Three Leviasaur Lords suddenly left the ocean and began attacking people. Most of the Vampire Hunters are in pursuit, while General Grant must watch over the old Leviasaur..."

"The Strait of Georgia spans over two thousand six hundred square miles and leads into the boundless Pacific Ocean. How could anyone guard such vast waters?" Another agent chimed in.

"Never mind that—you should head there right away." The captain urged.

The agents spoke in veiled terms. They understood, the Pacific Leviasaurs had a clear strategy—wear down the old man. They knew that as long as General Grant's strength held, the old Leviasaur would stay hidden.

All other colonels and lieutenant generals were now mobilized along the shoreline. They worked alongside Vampire Hunters, using their tracking abilities in a determined effort to capture the three Leviasaur Lords.

"I'm not going yet," I said, shaking my head.

I had taken my time gotten here. Both my green and red lights and the Sun-Shattering Bow had fully recovered.

However, the Vampire Devouring External Crystal remained empty, and I had yet to use the Moonfeather's crystal core. Given that the fifth transformation had taken nearly 4,000 years, my current vampire lifespan was far too brief.

"Then you are...?" the agents asked, puzzled.

"Going to earn some extra merits." I withdrew the silver bell and sent a message.

Shortly after, nearby vampire hunters pointed me in the right direction.

Under the several agents' watchful gaze, my eyes flashed with golden light. Like a majestic eagle surveying its domain, I soared skyward, transforming into a swift breeze that swept across the heavens.

Never before had the agents seen a colonel demonstrate such a technique. They stood rooted to the spot, utterly amazed.

...

Evergreen County, Vancouver.

At this time of turbulence and unrest, a wealthy local family sponsored the construction of a new temple.

It was said that the Sea God of the Strait of Georgia could ensure favorable weather, grant success in marriage and childbirth, and ward off evil spirits.

The truth of these claims remained a mystery.

But Evergreen was considered a large county town, not a rustic place like Seamist County.

Building a wild shrine for a vampire in the remote Temple Village was one thing, but erecting one in the bustling county town was quite another. Surprisingly, H.A.R.M. showed little concern. They just sent two agents to take a look, then dropped the matter entirely.

H.A.R.M. likely recognized that the anxious population desperately needed a spiritual anchor.

As a result, the newly built temple drew huge crowds, with long lines of people waiting to present offerings of food, livestock, and money.

Inside the temple, the deity statue sat solemnly with hands resting flat upon its knees. A luxurious shawl adorned with cloud patterns draped its shoulders, while a straight, sacred blade rested at its waist. Cast primarily in black, the statue radiated both solemnity and martial might.

Worshippers knelt on cushions in succession. As news of deaths spread like wildfire, their prayers shifted from hopes for chubby baby boys to desperate pleas for their families' safety.

Yet amid this scene, two peculiarities stood out.

First, a sizeable group of martial artists formed outside the temple on the mountainside. Dozens arrived in scattered groups, dressed in various attire, their hands occasionally reaching to touch the bells concealed in their belts.

Second, a tall figure stood inside the temple, neither offering sacrifice nor praying.

"Sea God of the Strait of Georgia?" The middle-aged man stood with his hands behind his back. As he noticed the statue gazing down at him sternly, his smile grew wider.

His smile grew increasingly maniacal until a raspy laugh tore from his throat. "Heh... heh heh... HA HA HA!" He threw his head back, his laughter echoing through the temple.

"In front of me, you dare to call yourself the God of the Strait of Georgia?!"

The Fifth Leviasaur Lord's brazen laughter inevitably drew scowls from the worshippers, who frowned and turned to glare at him.

Suddenly, he glared back.

His bloodshot eyes, filled with predatory hunger, locked onto the nearest worshippers. A low growl rumbled forth as a wave of fetid air, thick with the stench of decay and rot, washed over the crowd. The worshippers trembled in terror, and several of the more timid ones lost control of their bladders on the spot.

"What? Do I not have the right to comment on your wild god?"

"How about this?" The Fifth Leviasaur Lord seemed to enjoy toying with his prey. He withdrew his ferocious intent and smiled nonchalantly. "Now, I intend to eat you all. I'll count to three. Let's see if your Sea God will..."

Before he could even raise one finger, the Leviasaur Lord froze as he noticed that all the worshippers around him widened their eyes in surprise.

Suddenly, he heard a soft thunk sound.

He searched for the source and discovered a blood-stained, pale hand protruding from his throat.

As the hand withdrew, he jerked his head around. His eyes met a gently swaying black cloak.

A young man stood looking over him, one hand gripping the scabbard, regarding him with chilling serenity.