Vampire Progenitor System-Chapter 164: The Power Of A True Angel

New York

The clones fell one by one.

Greta’s chains burned red-hot, wrapping around torsos and tearing limbs apart. Boris roared, his claws ripping through throats and spines, blood matting his golden fur as he tore another clone’s face off with his teeth. Vulpina flickered between shadows, striking vital points with her claws, leaving trails of dissolving black blood behind each kill. Fowler knelt, hands trembling, light gathering in his palms before releasing radiant bursts that vaporised any clone it touched.

The street was littered with broken bodies, smoking blood, and cracked pavement glowing faintly under the city’s ruined lights. The clones tried to stand again, twitching with corrupted regeneration, but Vulpina stabbed them through the heart before they could rise. Boris tore apart a cluster of four in one sweep, their bodies folding in half like wet paper.

Greta’s chest heaved, her coat torn, blood dripping down her arms. She clenched her fist and her chains lashed out, piercing two clones mid-stride. Their bodies exploded into ash and black mist.

Fowler fell to one knee, panting hard, his aura flickering weakly. "Almost... almost all down..."

But then—

A low hum rumbled through the ground.

They froze.

The fallen clone bodies began to twitch, dark veins glowing with corrupted crimson light. Their blood pooled outward in thick streams, flowing into each other, gathering at the centre of Times Square. Greta narrowed her eyes, her chains retracting slightly around her as she took a cautious step back.

The blood formed a massive pool, swirling and churning as if alive. Clones began crawling toward it, some dragging broken limbs, some crawling with half-torn faces, some merging into the blood without resistance. Their bodies sank into the pool, merging together. Bones cracked, twisted, fused. Flesh folded over flesh, muscles bulged and split. A roar like tearing metal erupted from the centre.

Then it rose.

A giant.

Its body was a shifting mass of limbs and heads, black hair dripping red, dozens of Lucifer-like faces embedded in its chest and arms, each grinning with black sclera and red irises. Its wings were malformed, sprouting at jagged angles from its hunched back, each feather dripping corrupted blood onto the shattered street below. Its eyes burned crimson-gold, flickering with unstable glyphs.

Boris growled deep in his chest, baring his fangs. Vulpina stepped back, her tails bristling with silent dread. Fowler looked up, sweat dripping down his temple as his light flickered desperately in his shaking hands.

Then—

A deeper chill swept through them.

A silent, crushing aura pressed down on the square, bending the air, cracking windows, making Greta’s chains tremble. She felt it in her bones. Old. Absolute. Unfathomable. Her eyes narrowed as she swallowed the rising dread in her chest.

But then Vulpina froze.

Her tails drooped. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with a sudden, primal horror.

"No..." she whispered.

Greta turned to her sharply. "What is it?"

Vulpina didn’t answer. Her hands shook as she pressed them to her chest, claws digging into her own kimono fabric. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the giant monstrosity from her vision.

"My link..." she whispered, voice trembling. "Francisca... it’s... gone..."

Greta’s chest tightened. Her chains fell slack around her. "Dead...?"

Vulpina’s shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked her small frame. "She... she was my daughter..."

Boris growled low, his massive head lowering, golden eyes narrowing with grief that burned like rage. Fowler looked down, eyes shadowed, his hands trembling faintly.

Then—

Footsteps echoed against the cracked pavement.

Slow. Heavy. Certain. frёewebnoѵēl.com

They turned.

Mob approached from the smoke, his head low, hair shadowing his eyes.

"Aunt... what happened...?"

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, her tails limp and lifeless behind her. Her lips parted, trembling with words she could barely force out.

"She... she’s dead, Mob... Francisca... she’s gone..."

He didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

His chest rose once. Fell. Then nothing.

Memories rippled through him.

Francisca, sitting beside him under the sakura tree in the old mansion courtyard, the petals falling like silent rain. Her soft laugh as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Mob... I want to tell you something."

He looked at her, his eyes calm and quiet. "What is it...?"

She smiled, tears glimmering in her lashes. "I love you. I’ve loved you for so long."

He frowned softly. "Francisca... we’re cousins."

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. "No... aunt adopted you when your real parents died... you’re not blood, Mob... I’ve always known that..."

He looked down, silent. "I... need time. I... don’t know..."

She nodded, wiping her tears with a trembling smile. "I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you."

The memory faded.

His fists clenched, trembling so hard his nails cut into his palms. Blood dripped silently onto the broken ground. His hair lifted slightly as a faint white glow flickered under his skin.

Vulpina reached out to him, tears falling freely. "Mob... please... don’t..."

But it was too late.

His wings erupted from his back, massive, white as moonlight, each feather lined with flickering silver glyphs. The giant monstrosity roared, shadows recoiling from the sudden celestial light pouring from Mob’s body. His eyes opened slowly, glowing pure gold, burning with tears that didn’t fall.

The ground cracked under his feet. The sky above twisted, the clouds parting in a spiralling void as divine light poured down upon him. Greta stumbled back, shielding her eyes. Boris growled low, bowing his massive head. Vulpina wept silently, her tails curling around her legs.

Then—

A flash.

A sword appeared in Mob’s hand. Its blade was long, slender, glowing white with faint blue veins running through its metal like living rivers. Its crossguard was shaped like silver wings folded inward. Its hilt wrapped in black leather, simple and unadorned. The blade reflected him perfectly—quiet, slender, trembling with hidden strength. His tears fell onto its glowing steel, each drop turning to shimmering light that merged with the weapon.

He raised it slowly, the tip glowing brighter as the air around it hummed with divine resonance. His wings spread wider behind him, each feather burning with quiet, unyielding light.

His divine power awoke.

The world trembled.

Wind screamed around him, ripping through fallen cars and flickering flames. The giant monstrosity roared, its dozens of Lucifer faces twisting in fury, shadows exploding from its body like diseased wings.

Mob looked up at it, his golden eyes calm. Tears streamed silently down his face, glowing as they fell.

"She waited for me..." he whispered, his voice soft, breaking with grief. "I never... told her... I loved her too."

He raised his sword, the blade pulsing with divine light that cracked the ground beneath his feet. The shadows recoiled from its glow, hissing in silent agony.

Then he spoke again, his voice carrying through the burning city, quiet and trembling but clear.

"I’m sorry... Francisca."

He spread his wings.

The light erupted.

And far away, standing at the peak of a ruined tower, Adam turned his head slightly, golden eyes narrowing as a faint smile curled across his lips.

"A celestial... in my world..." he whispered. "The son... of Michael..."

The smile widened faintly.

"This will be... interesting."

Below, the giant monstrosity lunged forward with a roar that shook Times Square. Mob raised his sword, his eyes burning with silent tears as the dawn broke around his glowing wings.

And the world prepared to witness a power it hadn’t seen in thousands of years.

The power... of a true angel.

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