Protect

Hiss!

Soren's wrist was pierced by sharp fangs, leaving two deep puncture wounds.

Flesh torn, blood gushing.

His expression darkened as he swiftly drew another handgun from his waist. Seizing the moment when Ronan succumbed to his frenzy, Soren aimed at his back and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

"Mochi, watch out!"

Bang!

As the gunshot rang out, Elena had already leaped forward, throwing herself at Ronan.

She used her arm to shield him, taking the bullet meant for his back.

Grasping Ronan tightly, she rolled with him off the rooftop.

From dozens of meters high, the two plummeted, hitting the ground with a sickening thud, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.

Elena winced in pain, trying to move, but her back cracked audibly—a clear sign that the bones she had just healed were once again shattered.

Ronan rolled into a nearby bush, his head striking a concrete pipe, rendering him unconscious.

Elena lay motionless, her thoughts drifting. Her blurred vision and numbing limbs signaled that her consciousness was slipping away.

No!

She couldn't fall here—not like this.

She refused to die, not at the hands of those wretched humans. She couldn't let Elysia and Ronan perish because of her.

6:50 PM, Solara Residences

Damon stepped into the private room, only to find it empty. Sharp as always, he quickly grasped Caroline's intentions but said nothing.

Caroline had made an excuse about needing to touch up her makeup to avoid awkwardness.

On her way, she had ordered a romantic candlelight dinner, complete with a violinist to serenade them with birthday tunes. Surely, tonight was meant to be perfect.

However, when she returned from the restroom, Damon was nowhere to be seen. Panicked, she hurried to the front desk.

"Excuse me, where's the gentleman I came in with?"

"Miss, there seems to have been an incident outside. He told us to ask you to wait here for now," the receptionist replied.

"Oh, I see. Please delay serving the food."

Caroline clutched her chest, silently berating herself for overreacting.

She had always known Damon's profession wasn't ordinary, but their relationship had progressed so little that she dared not ask.

A secluded grove behind the artificial lake at Solara Residences

Two figures darted through the shadows of the night, their footsteps swift and lethal, each movement charged with a cold killing intent. Locked in a relentless pursuit, they were evenly matched, neither willing to yield.

Damon held Elena in his arms, his movements slightly hindered.

Soren leaped through the air, closing the distance in a few strides. Drawing his handgun, he shouted, "Stop! One more step, and I'll shoot!"

Damon halted, turning to face Soren. A faint, complicated glint flickered in his tea-brown eyes. "Six years… You've finally come back."

"That's none of your concern!" Soren hissed, closing the gap. He holstered his gun but cast a glance at Elena. "For old times' sake, leave her with me, and I'll let you walk away."

Damon raised an eyebrow, his tone calm but frigid. "And if I refuse?"

Without warning, Soren lunged, his dagger aimed at Damon's heart with ruthless precision.

"Then you both die!"

Damon stood still, his serene voice cutting through the cold night. "Go ahead."

Under the pale moonlight, Damon's silhouette was as poised as it was unyielding. He didn't flinch.

The blade sank into flesh, carving a deep, bloodied gash.

Scarlet bloomed across Damon's pristine white shirt, like blossoms of winter camellias.

Soren hadn't anticipated Damon's lack of resistance. His pupils contracted in shock.

Retracting the blade, Soren shifted his target to Elena, yelling, "Even your death won't matter! Zia will never smile at me again!"

Damon stepped aside, evading the next strike while tightening his hold on Elena.

He slowly unsheathed a longsword from his waist, the blade catching the moonlight with a sharp, silver glow. "She is mine. Are you certain you want to make a move?"

Soren's expression shifted. "You're using the Verdant Soulblade against me?"

Damon's voice was as cold as the night, unwavering. "Whoever stands in my way dies—be it man or god."

Soren hesitated but sneered. "So, you've chosen her? You're not afraid of crossing the VEA?"

"That's my business, not yours," Damon replied, his tea-brown eyes narrowing. Those deep, ink-like pupils reflected a quiet yet profound resolve.

The blade that struck him earlier had severed not only flesh but also the lingering ties of the past.

Whether Soren was a friend or foe no longer mattered. Damon would not waver again.

"Fine! Just wait," Soren spat, retreating past Damon.

In the dark, no one noticed the slight tremor in Soren's fingers as he deftly embedded a silver needle into Elena's hair.

"Elena… Elena…"

A familiar voice reached her ears, accompanied by the taste of rich, warm blood dripping into her mouth.

Struggling, Elena forced her eyes open. In her blurred vision, a tall figure knelt before her, calling her name softly.

She couldn't make out his face, only his snow-white shirt and devastatingly handsome silhouette.

"Damon…"

She weakly murmured his name, uncertain if it was truly him. Yet no reply came from the man.

In her disoriented state, she began to succumb to her instincts. Her body reacted uncontrollably, giving in to the Vampire Frenzy.

First, her Lunar Trace Fangs elongated.

Then, her sharp claws extended from once-delicate fingertips.

Finally, her silver-glimmering eyes turned blood-red.

As the ruler of the Vampire Clan, Elena awakened her power as Lord Vesper, the ultimate force of darkness capable of commanding life and death.

"Howl!"

Her blood-red eyes gleamed with silver sparks, radiating an oppressive aura.

With a feral swing of her arm, she sent Damon flying, crawling on all fours like a beast.

Her presence unleashed a tempest of energy, devouring everything in its path—be it man or object.

Damon crashed into a stone outcrop, falling to the ground with a hard thud, coughing up blood.

Damn it!

He was about to be torn apart by this crazed woman, his internal organs threatening to shift from the violent impact.

Damon thought to himself, Thank heavens Soren is gone. Otherwise, the consequences would be unimaginable.

However, Elena's reckless release of the Vampire Clan's power would soon attract the attention of other Vampires, and before long, they'd return in full force.

Damon pressed his hand to his chest and slowly got to his feet.

He found the three-foot-long Verdant Soulblade lying on the ground and aimed it at Elena. "Elena, stop! If you don't, I won't be able to save you!"

"Aaaaah!"

Elena had lost all of her senses, her eyes vacant and devoid of awareness.

She clung desperately to her remaining strength, making the world tremble, the sky darken, and the moon bleed.

There, at the heart of the massive storm, Elena stood, howling without restraint.

Suddenly, she leaped into the air, charging toward Solara Residences.

There, she could sense the scent of fresh blood—something she craved.

Damon twisted his wrist, using the ancient sword energy to cut through the layers of the storm, chasing her down.

He reached Elena, pulling her tightly into his embrace and commanding, "Elena, don't go!"

Elena froze mid-motion, her silver-red eyes momentarily dazed.

Her violent rage faltered for a moment, but she remained stiff, her movements slow and sluggish as she let out a low, drawn-out growl. "Aaaaah…"

The sound was like the wail of a creature from hell, filled with sorrow, pain, and despair.

Damon had heard that the Vampire Frenzy was akin to a rebirth. The torment endured during this transformation was unimaginable for any human.

He knew there was only one option left. He had to resort to the desperate method he had hoped never to use.

"Sorry, Elena," Damon whispered.

He pulled her close and bit his finger, drawing blood. With that, he marked a blood-red lotus on her forehead, using his own blood as a seal.

As soon as the lotus touched Elena's skin, it absorbed into her, leaving behind only a faint, crimson impression.

But that small blood lotus wasn't enough to quell the raging storm inside her.

Damon sucked in a deep breath, pulling his bloody finger into his mouth.

Before Elena could react, he grabbed her by the back of her head and forced her toward him, kissing her violently.

For a moment, there was no coldness, no force, and no indifference.

He wasn't acting out of anger or desperation—he just wanted to save her.

The cost? Offering his own fresh blood.

The warm, sweet blood was pure, carrying the essence of his righteous, unwavering strength. It seemed to smell faintly of lotus, drifting like a dream.

In that moment, Elena could feel the seed of the lotus being planted in her heart, slowly blooming.

The taste of fresh blood triggered something primal in Elena.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Damon and eagerly drank from his lips.

Under the pure white moonlight, the two kissed passionately, recklessly.

Elena bit down on Damon's tongue, her savage hunger consuming him.

She was feeding on the tenderness he had restrained for so long, leaving nothing behind, greedy and insatiable.

Damon held Elena in his arms, silently enduring her brutal assault.

However, Elena didn't need to breathe, but he did.

His breath grew increasingly erratic, his thoughts blurred, and his vision started to fade. He felt like he was drifting, his body barely holding together.

Time passed, the minutes stretching into eternity.

Suddenly, a chill wind swept through the air, cold and ominous.

The air was thick with the presence of Vampire Clan's aura, along with the distinct wailing sound of the Vampires: "Aaaaah…"

Damon opened his eyes and realized that they were surrounded by a ring of Vampire Clan members.

Each of them was massive, their faces twisted into grotesque snarls, some even flapping thick, dark wings.

They looked like creatures from the darkest legends.

There were about thirty of them.

"Did you all see that? She's kissing that human!" Echo's arm still ached from the earlier injury.

Right now, she was itching to kill Elena.

Because in front of Elena, she had failed again.

As night fell, Zethar's voice became more tolerable, his mood returning to a semblance of normalcy.

He wasn't afraid of conflict, but he found it perplexing. "Why choose a human? Is their blood really that much better?"

Earlier in the afternoon, Cyril had left to attend to matters back at the Vampire Clan.

He had no idea about the chaos that had unfolded.

"Shut up!" Morgar shot a cold glare at Echo and Zethar, silencing them.

He lowered his body slightly, maintaining a polite stance, and said, "Mr. Damon, according to the Eternal Peace Accord, humans and the Vampire Clan do not interfere with each other's affairs. Therefore, I kindly ask you to return Lord Elena to us."

Damon held Elena in his arms, walking toward a nearby rock formation.

He placed her gently in a safe spot, then turned back to face Morgar. "Sorry, I can't give her to you."

"Why? I would appreciate a clear explanation." Morgar's tone grew colder, his face dark with anger. How dare this human hunter act so boldly?

Damon raised a slender finger to his lips, brushing across them lightly.

A drop of cold blood fell from his fingertip.

He frowned, his voice tinged with displeasure. "Because your Elena Lord bit me."

In other words, Elena had bitten a human.

As a vampire hunter, Damon had the right to keep Elena.

"You!! This is ridiculous!" Morgar's anger boiled over.

Is this how humans are now—so shameless?

But he forgot that thousands of years ago, he had been human as well.

The powerful second-generation vampire had embraced Morgar, transforming him into a vampire.

That meant he could never have descendants, only endless life and an insatiable thirst for wealth and power.

Damon spoke softly, his tone indifferent. "Am I not human? Does my bite not count?"

"Morgar, we could just take Elena by force. Humans have killed so many of us, there's no need to argue with him." Echo's impatience was palpable.

Morgar paused to think, then said, "Damon, since you insist on defying us, I won't force you. But Elena Lord is one of us, and the Vampire Clan will have her!"

He took a step back, signaling the others to advance.

"If she can leave with you, I'll admit defeat."

In the pure white moonlight, Damon stood tall, his figure as cold as the frosty air.

His handsome face was calm, yet it radiated a dangerous aura.

He stood proudly, a lone figure against the backdrop of the pale moon.

On his snow-white shirt, the blood-red marks of cold camellias bloomed, as if to warn: He was as ruthless as a ghost, his entire being suffused with cold light.