I jumped from pushup number fifty, pushing myself straight into another series of squats.

  The past five hours had been nothing but an endless cycle of cardio. After taking the time to clear out the corpses and barricade everything to the best of our abilities, Tina had shown me the most effective exercises for hitting every muscle group, and I hadn’t stopped since. Push-ups, squats, crunches, burpees, and running in place with knees to chest. The girl had spent over an hour adjusting my form, making sure I got it right, even though she was clearly wiped.

  Once she and her sister finally collapsed into sleep, I got to work. I didn’t think, I just moved. Fifty push-ups, fifty squats, fifty burpees, fifty crunches—no rest, no pause. I kept cycling through, over and over, pushing my body to its limits.

  Limits that no longer existed. Five hours later, and not a hint of fatigue or strain. No aching muscles or labored breath. The weight of exhaustion was a concept I couldn’t quite grasp anymore. It was good to have infinite stamina.

  Puck’s words echoed in my mind, lingering like an itch I couldn’t scratch. He’d told me to push myself. To train. That my body—no longer human, no longer bound by mortal limitations—would eventually find its perfect form. That any effort would yield results, quicker and sharper, thanks to my new, twisted anatomy.

  Part of me, the part that still remembered his unpredictable nature, half-expected him to materialize out of thin air, laughing his ass off at the dumb vampire who was doing something as inane as cardio. But then again, what did I have to lose by going along with it?

  The day still clung to the sky outside, the sun high, but the Miller sisters were deep in their sleep. I could hear their quiet breathing from across the room, undisturbed by the weight of the world. I might as well make use of the time, even if it meant subjecting myself to something as simple as this. A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that it could all be some twisted Fey joke—a test of my patience, or just another way for Puck to amuse himself at my expense. But the alternative was simple: he might actually be right. And if that was the case, the price of my effort might just be worth it.

  Midway through my hundredth set of push-ups, the shift of clothes and shoes on metal caught my ear. The twins had woken up and were making their way to the open space I had assumed in lieu of a proper gym, climbing down the metal stairs from the logistic offices.

  They emerged from the maze of rafters, yawning, groggily rubbing at their eyes as I bent over to retrieve my shirt. Just because I couldn't physically sweat anymore didn't mean I wanted to get it all dirty and covered in the storage depot's dust.

  "Yawn, damn I needed that. How you doing there tough gu..." she began, only to immediately stop as she caught sight of me. "Holy shit, Jon!"

  "What? What?" I asked, suddenly alert, senses stretched. Had I missed something?

  "Dude, that's just unfair!" Tina carried on, bug-eyed and slack-jawed.

  "Excuse you?"

  She smacked a hand against her forehead and quickly ran towards the rafters she and Mina had pilfered pillows and bedding from, rummaging through the furniture store's stock.

  "Right, right, my bad. I'm so used to checking for any progress I forget people don't usually notice these things without a mirror. Hold on, I'm pretty sure I saw one over here..."

  I stayed where I was, still trying to process her reaction. She’d looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Before I could make sense of it, a sudden squeak pulled my attention around.

  Mina had followed her sister, but now she stood frozen at the edge of the loft, staring at me like I’d just sprouted wings.

  “Holy shit…” she whispered.

  “Right?” came Tina’s muffled reply from somewhere behind the stacked shelves.

  I raised an eyebrow, irritation starting to creep in. “Okay, seriously—someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Before either of them could answer, Tina returned, holding a full-length mirror like it was the final piece in some elaborate puzzle. She tilted it toward me, and the second I saw my reflection, the words caught in my throat.

  Puck hadn’t been messing around.

  If anything, he’d downplayed it.

  It wasn’t like I’d suddenly grown a shredded six-pack or anything ridiculous like that. But the changes were there—quiet, easy to miss without a mirror, yet impossible to ignore once seen. Subtle, sure. Still, they carried the weight of real progress.

  My gut—once a soft, stubborn mound built on years of cheap calories and bottom-shelf sustenance—had shrunk by at least a quarter. It was still there, no mistaking that. But now it looked more like something you’d see on a powerlifter: thick, solid, with muscle pushing up beneath the remaining layer of fat. Still present, but functional. Earned.

  My chest and lats had filled out too, pushing my general build into an X. There was definition starting to take shape—not sharp enough to cut glass, but clear enough to notice. The kind of change that didn’t happen overnight as a human. But as a Vampire? A single grind session had been enough to get results.

  The biggest difference, though, was in my shoulders and arms. They’d always been my strongest features—years of hauling lumber, swinging tools, and dragging pallets had seen to that. But now? Now they looked carved. Not in the sculpted, oiled-up-bodybuilder way, but in the worked hard, fought harder kind of way. My delts, biceps, and triceps seemed almost swollen, tense with new strength, like cords of steel wrapped in skin.

  I wasn’t ripped. Not yet. But I’d moved up the ladder, even skipped a level—from fat, to husky... to something that could maybe be called brawny or burly, if you squinted.

  And this was after just five hours. At this rate, if I kept at the training for a few more weeks, I'd start looking like an athlete, or one of those bodybuilders on stages.

  "Holy shit..." was all I could say.

  “Right?” both sisters chimed, identical smirks spreading across their faces as they stepped in closer. Mina’s eyes glittered with that sharp, academic gleam I’d come to recognize—equal parts curiosity and clinical obsession. Tina’s look, though… that was something else entirely. Mischief? Want? Definitely trouble, tough.

  “Jon, do you realize what this means?” Mina asked, her voice low with excitement.

  “That the man’s turning into a damn snack,” Tina cut in, eyes sweeping over my torso like she was sizing up prime cuts at a butcher’s window.

  “What? No—well, yes, but—ugh, stop derailing me!” Mina hissed at her twin, ears going an impressive shade of crimson as she smacked Tina’s arm and turned back to me. “What I meant is that our theory holds water. You’re not stuck in some undead limbo. You’re changing—adapting. Whatever you are now, it isn’t undeath. It’s evolution.”

  She gestured to me like she was presenting evidence in a thesis defense. “This kind of transformation after just a few hours of physical exertion? It’s insane. Vampirism isn't stagnation, it's the furthest thing from it—you’re accelerating. Healing, reinforcing, optimizing. If this is what you get after one session, then long-term? The possibilities are massive.”

  “It also means you’re becoming an absolute snack,” Tina repeated, deadpan, eyes still fixed squarely on my chest, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

  “Ey-yo!” I snapped my fingers and pointed at my face. “Eyes up here, missy.”

  They both cracked up, and I couldn’t help but laugh with them as I reached for my shirt, dragging it back over my head and covering the fresh gains I still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about.

  Whether Tina was actually flirting or just being Tina, I couldn’t say. She’d always been like this—throwing off casual remarks and bold jabs like it was her native language. Could’ve been teasing, could’ve been deflection. Probably both. But what I did know for sure, was that for all her apparent forwardness, she was also monumentally timid if things went from "joke" to "real". She was a wildcard, no doubt about it.

  Me? Well, to put it mildly, while not timid, I had a cavalcade of well-entranced self-image issues. Didn't need a shrink to tell me that.

  I’d lived most of my life in a body that felt too big, too soft, too wrong. Compliments, even half-joking ones, didn’t land the way they probably should have. Standing there shirtless, letting someone point out my muscles like they were worth noticing? It felt foreign. Like wearing someone else’s skin.

  Progress or not, those old insecurities hadn’t just magically gone. And they weren’t the sort of thing that vanished with a couple inches off the waistline. They probably would, in time. But not today.

  I grabbed a dusty bottle from a nearby pallet, cracked the cap, and poured some of the water into my hand, wiping it across my face and shaved scalp. The cool wash cut through the lingering grime, and I let out a breath, more out of habit than anything else. A shower, even this rough approximation of one, was always such a treat.

  Mina stepped in without a word, holding the bottle steady so I could do a proper rinse. I met her eyes and gave a quiet nod. She smiled. No teasing there—just calm, quiet support.

  I cleared my throat and rolled my head, letting the water cool off an odd warmth that had seemed to catch my own ears, trying to pivot the conversation somewhere else.

  “So… what’s the time?” I asked, feigning nonchalance.

  "Quarter past two. So, still a good few hours until nightfall" Tina answered, handing me a sheet of bedding in place of a towel.

  "Right. Well, at least you two are awake, so Tina can teach me a few moves."

  Tina smirked back. "Yeah man, a promise is a promise. Let me and my sis just get some food first, alright?"

  Half an hour later, both sisters set the now empty cans of spam and peach compote on the ground, satiation written all over their faces. I couldn't help but grin as I drew another drag from a cigarette a few paces away.

  Mina's idea to take the supply depot had been spot on. There was food, water and preserved foods in the pallets, along with an entire smorgasbord of myriad other knickknacks. I'd even found a few pallets filled with cartons of cigarettes. It was still not a habit I had any intention on taking on "full-time", but it helped pass the time. Especially considering that with my new anatomy, these damned coffin-nails wouldn't impact my health in any way. I couldn't get addicted to them even if I wanted to, my body was flushing the nicotine out of my system with every exhale.

  Mina approached, her small hands struggling to unwrap two candied apples.

  "Want one?" she asked, finally tearing open the wrapper and holding it out with a smile.

  I shook my head. "Don’t need it."

  She tilted her head slightly, a bit of concern creeping into her eyes. "It’s not about need, Jon. It’s about want. You don’t eat, you don’t rest. The body needs more than just fuel. It needs to relax, too."

  I flicked the ash from my cigarette and shrugged. "I’m relaxing now, aren’t I? Plus, I’m not sure my body even knows how to process food anymore. Don’t feel any cravings for it."

  "So just blood, huh?"

  "Yeah. Blood. The kind you two still owe me, by the way."

  A brief shadow passed over her face, but she didn’t back down. "You did your part and then some. It’s only fair."

  I nodded. "I did. But we’ll save the collection for later, after my training with Tina. Blood drives make people woozy."

  A voice cut in behind us, light but carrying the familiar edge of Tina’s confidence. "Heard my name." She strode toward us, a toothpick hanging from her lips. "I’ve already made a mat from some stuff I found in the furniture section. Didn’t know this place stocked memory foam mattresses, but it’ll work. More than good enough."

  "Thanks for getting that together," I said, my eyes on her as she moved.

  Tina cracked her neck, the sound sharp in the air. "Well, no time like the present. And no better way to burn off a meal than some exercise. Ready when you are, Dracula."

  I grinned, putting out the cigarette. "Alright, go easy on me, okay?"

  Tina’s grin was wide and sharp. "Tina Miller don’t do gentle."

  Her lunge was swift and precise, a blur of motion that cut through the air like a serpent’s strike. A flicker-jab aimed straight for my face, an obvious feint. I knew it was coming, but still, I fell for it. Instinct took over, and I raised my arms to block, leaving my line of sight compromised for a split second.

  In that heartbeat, Tina shifted like water flowing through cracks—fluid and fast. What had started as a strike became a low, sweeping maneuver. Her arms wrapped around my right leg, and before I could react, her shoulder slammed into my lower abdomen. At the same time, she pulled hard against the back of my knee, dragging my center of balance forward.

  Had I still been human, even with the weight difference between us, that would have sent me crashing to the ground. A simple leg takedown, nothing fancy, but executed with ruthless precision. My enhanced body helped. It didn’t send me to the floor. Instead, I staggered slightly, my balance on the edge of collapse, but holding firm. Barely.

  We'd already been over the basics, and Tina had made sure I'd understand the importance of stance-work and balance before anything else.

  "You got weight, strength, speed and durability. None of that will count for anything if you're flat on your back. That applies to your enemies too" she'd said.

  "Grappling is a force magnifier. I may be lighter, weaker and slower than you. But technique is 80% of a fight. If I pin you to the floor, you're wide open to a knife, a gun, whatever. So your job is simple—stay stable. Keep your feet under you. Leverage is everything in wrestling."

  Tina Miller the wrestler was a wholesale different person than the silly jokester I'd come to see her as. No, this Tina was something else. She was fire tempered into steel, jaw set with the kind of confidence you couldn’t fake. And she had every right to carry that confidence. I’d seen Andreas in action, and he was no slouch, but even he wouldn’t be able to match this woman's mix of strength and fluidity. If they ever went toe-to-toe, I’d bet my money on Tina, every time.

  Wrestling. A force magnifier, huh? And I was already much stronger than the average person.

  Just like she'd taught me,

  I rode the momentum of her grapple, stepping back and shifting my stance into a low flex, my left leg stretched out behind me. My hands found the back of her head, pressing her face into the side of my hip. I put my weight behind it, using my upper body to force her down, before transitioning my grip, curling my arms around her midsection.

  She jolted, a mix of push and pull, trying to break free, squirming like an animal caught in a trap. Against any other man, her struggle might have worked. The woman was a wiry powerhouse—lean muscle, sinew, and grit—and her technique was flawless. But the thing about Tina was, she was still mortal. I wasn’t.

  It would’ve been easy to just lift her up and toss her over my shoulder, or to apply pressure and squeeze until I felt her bones creak. My enhanced strength could’ve overwhelmed her in an instant. But that wasn’t the point of this. This wasn’t about flexing my unnatural abilities. It was about learning, about control. About technique.

  So I shifted again, not relying on strength, but on leverage. My elbow pressed against her back, the other arm snaking around her neck. With a grunt, I shifted my weight even more, forcing her upper body down with the full force of my mass. She fought it, pushing, pulling, but in the end, her stance gave way, and with a sharp gasp, she collapsed flat on her stomach, pinned beneath me.

  "That's it, well done, Jon!" Tina’s voice came out muffled from under me as she tapped twice against my bicep. I immediately released the hold, and she popped back up, grinning wildly, a mixture of pride and enjoyment dancing on her face.

  "Really well done."

  I smiled back, shrugging it off. "C'mon, we both know that if I wasn't a vamp and you weren't wiped from three hours of this, you'd still outclass me. No question about it."

  She scoffed, eyes narrowing with seriousness. "None of that! Don’t sell yourself short. I train for five hours every day, so don’t give me that ‘tired’ excuse. And as for the vamp thing? Maybe if you were trying to just muscle through it, but you’re actually using technique. You’re getting leverage, understanding momentum. Honestly, I think you’ve got some natural talent for this, Jon."

  I scratched my nose, a bit uncomfortable with the praise. "Thanks?"

  She smirked, her tone playful. "Hey, don’t thank me, I’m trying to kick your ass here."

  We both chuckled, and I gave her a moment to catch her breath. Tina was breathing a little heavily, sweat slicking her skin, but she didn’t look tired. Winded, sure, but still ready for more. It’d been over three hours of training, and she was showing no signs of slowing down.

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  If nothing else, it impressed on me just how exceptional she was. But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

  Up until now, she’d been holding back, teaching me the fundamentals. I could feel it. She wasn’t going all-out—she was giving me space to learn. But I wanted more. I wanted to test my limits, see how my new body stacked up against hers. Not some mindless beast, not an undead automaton, and certainly not the muscle-bound orcs. But a real fight. A spar with someone who knew what they were doing.

  And Tina Miller? She was as professional as they came.

  I dropped back into a grappling stance, knees bent, center of gravity low, and my head tucked between my shoulders. "This time, I want it for real," I said, my voice steady, but something sharper underneath.

  Tina blinked, her smile curling into something cold and calculated. There was no warmth in it—only a quiet, burning intensity. It reminded me of how I’d felt when I faced the horde of Rotbloods, when my instincts had screamed for blood, for a challenge. She was hungry for it. A test. A challenge.

  Mirroring my stance, her eyes never leaving mine, sharp as a blade. "Might just take you up on that, big guy," she said, voice low and eager. "Let’s see how I do."

  And just like that, I felt the same fire ignite in me. I couldn’t help but smile back, that same hunger mirrored in my own eyes. This was what I’d been waiting for.

  "Same rules as training, alright?" I added, my voice more measured, a flicker of excitement edging the words. Tina gave a sharp nod, her gaze unwavering.

  It had been my request from the beginning. No punches, no kicks, no MMA nonsense—just pure wrestling, grappling, and open-hand strikes. Despite Tina’s protests that I shouldn’t “go easy” on her, I’d been firm.

  It wasn’t about underestimating her. It was about the fact that I could punch through ten inches of hardwood without breaking a sweat. My kicks could snap necks, break spines with a single strike. My baseline strength alone was enough to match the Orcs, those walking tanks of muscle and fury. One wrong move and I could crush her. I could break her bones, shatter her, and in what the world had become, a broken or fractured bone would be a death sentence.

  This way, we were on equal footing—her skill and technique against my enhanced reflexes, speed, and strength. And though she didn’t show it, I knew she appreciated my restraint. She wasn’t the kind to back down, but she was no fool. She understood what I was capable of, and we both knew the stakes.

  "Three" I began.

  "Two" she continued.

  "One" Mina declared from the side, where she'd been busily reorganizing my rucksack.

  We collided, both of us moving in perfect rhythm, the air between us crackling with the sharp exchange of open-handed jabs and grabs. Each strike, each shift, was like a quicksilver dance—one of us closing in, then retreating, then striking again. My speed outpaced hers, double the pace, maybe more. But Tina matched it with experience, anticipating every move with the precision of a seasoned fighter.

  Every grab I made, every attempt to close the distance, was met with a quick parry, a sharp jab, or a well-placed elbow aimed at my forearms. I could’ve powered through, could’ve tanked those hits, but I resisted the urge. I wasn’t here to overpower her; I was here to learn, to understand. So every blocked strike, I stopped myself, letting her control the pace of the spar.

  A vicious backhand slapped across her guard, throwing the woman off balance for a brief moment. That was enough. I surged forward, alternating quick jabs with desperate grabs for her legs, aiming to catch her off guard. But Tina—ever the athlete—backpedaled with ease, maintaining distance, movements as fluid and controlled as a dancer’s.

  And then, in a flash of movement so fast it almost didn’t seem human, she turned her retreat into a sudden charge, sliding low to the ground, a side scissor sweep unfolding in an instant.

  Her left leg struck against mine, just above the ankles, while her right leg cut into the back of my knees. The attack was perfect, perfectly timed to my momentum, and I felt the floor rush up to meet me.

  Even an Orc would’ve had trouble staying on their feet against a move like that.

  I didn’t fight it. There was no point in trying to resist the pull of gravity. I let myself collapse, twisting mid-air just enough to land on my back rather than my face. The mat hit me with a thud, but it was a controlled fall. A lesson in itself.

  "Good!" Tina hissed, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I smiled back, my arms already raised, ready for whatever she’d throw next. The next logical step for her would’ve been to mount my back, to sink into a rear-naked choke—As per the rules we'd established, getting caught in a choke would equate to a loss, on account of such moves meaning nothing against a vampire who didn't need to breathe. But splayed on my back as I was, any follow-up she'd attempt would just put her in my grasp.

  I slammed both elbows into the mat, using the momentum to spring myself back into a combat crouch. The move was so fast, so sudden, she barely had time to react. Before she could capitalize, I closed the distance, lashing out with a jab. At the last possible instant, I shifted, trying to mimic her earlier move—a feint, a quick leg takedown. My speed made it convincing, enough to catch most people off guard. But Tina wasn’t most people.

  She was a professional.

  The feint had been well-executed, my unnatural speed filling the gap left by my lack of experience. But it wasn’t enough. To someone like Tina, even the smallest shift in my body was a tell. Even the faintest hint of a move could be read like a book.

  Practiced precision. Slamming both open palms into my shoulders, using my own momentum as leverage, she pushed herself away and to the side, in a pirouette so perfectly executed it would've made a ballerina go green with envy. Trying to overpower me?—she knew that was a losing battle. The weight difference was far too much in my favor.

  The girl had such an instinctive grasp of the ebb and flow of combat she'd already understood my weak point. The very same mass, weight and strength that put me above her, also made me predictable. My attacks were too linear. To direct. I wasn't at the level where I could perfectly account and wrest with the inertia of my own momentum.

  But she was.

  Her counter was a thing of beauty—a dizzying dance, a terrifying twirl that carried her momentum into her next move with a brutal efficiency. In a flash, her leg shot out, hooking against my leading foot, and I was sent sprawling, my charge interrupted mid-flight.

  Instinct kicked in at the last possible moment. I dove, twisting my fall into a roll, barely avoiding crashing headfirst into the mat. As I came back to my feet, Tina was already on me, her next lunge aimed to capitalize on my momentary stumble. But I was ready. I closed the gap, turning her attack into a clinch.

  This was where I had the upper hand.

  In a clinch, my size, my strength—everything I had—became an overwhelming advantage.

  Tina’s eyes widened in frustration, her teeth grinding as she twisted and bucked, trying to escape. Her arms snaked out of my grasp, but I was relentless, staying close, keeping the pressure on. She tried to create distance, but I was always there, closing in, grabbing her sharply with every chance I got, using my legs to hook hers, unbalancing her with each shift.

  "SHIT!" she hissed, face a mix of effort and concentration as I hooked the ankle of her back leg, pulling it off balance. I felt the satisfying tug as she stumbled, her body shifting just enough for me to tap her with my shoulder. The moment she lost her balance, it was all over. Tina hit the mat with a thud, scrambling, trying to use the momentum of her own fall in regaining her footing. But I had already pounced, lunging after her, my right hand reaching out, aiming for her shoulder.

  Perfect.

  All I had to do was catch her and twist, and she’d be in the perfect position for a submission hold. My win.

  At the last moment, I saw it—the sharp glint in Tina’s eyes, the way her curse slipped through gritted teeth, the stumble backward, all of it. It was a ruse. A trap. She’d baited me in, waiting for the exact second to turn the tables.

  Just before my fingers could brush against her bare shoulder, she twisted with a gymnast’s grace, body arching fluidly as she turned her backward stumble into a half-somersault. Arms locked around my elbow, while her legs coiled around my neck in an instant, a textbook Arm-in-Triangle Choke.

  It had been beautiful. Magnificent. Something straight out of hall of fame prize fights. And had I been anything less than what I'd become, this would've been my loss.

  But my superhuman reflexes had kicked in, my left forearm slamming against her inner thigh at the last second, stopping her from tightening the hold. The choke didn’t take. She hadn’t won.

  I couldn’t help but grin at the woman now latched onto my arm and shoulders like some cute, determined koala.

  "Crap," she muttered, resignation seeping into her voice.

  I gripped the front of her tank top, giving it a tight pull, and with a sharp twist, swung her like an improvised club. Her body whipped around, the force of the movement sending her crashing toward the mat. She didn't make contact. I'd stopped my motion at the last second.

  "My win," I said with a sly grin, snickering as I held her in place.

  "Aww maaaaan!" she whined, pouting adorably, all intensity and sharp edge gone from her eyes. "And I really thought I had you there."

  "If it weren't for my vampiric body, you would've," I answered, letting her clamber down from her me-shaped perch.

  "Oh please, if it weren't for your rules, you would've beaten me handily" she said, showing off a few angry red bruises across her forearms. "Your open-hand jabs hurt like damn boxing hooks."

  "Crap, sorry girl, didn't mean to..."

  She scoffed, waving her hands dismissively. "Nope. No apologies. You held back as much as you could. Not your fault us heartbeat-havers are so damn fragile."

  I chuckled dryly at her reaction, deciding to stop apologizing. Tina had done exceptionally, and any remorse would just chafe at her competitive pride.

  "Good fight, Tina!" I said, holding a hand out.

  "Good fight, Jon! It's your win!" she answered, clasping it.

  "Good fight to the both of you" Mina piped up, tugging the straps on my rucksack closed. "That was awesome to watch!"

  I nodded, looking at the rucksack, marveling at how much she'd reduced the size of it. It looked a whole third smaller. I guess knowing how to pack things compactly is a lot more useful than I thought. Interestingly enough though, there was one thing which had not been packed yet.

  The blood transfusion kits I'd pilfered from the pharmacy. Two empty blood bags lay just in front of her, while ten more had been neatly folded near the rucksack.

  "It's for the last part of our agreement" Mina answered the unspoken question, following my gaze to the kits. "Night's going to come soon, so I'm assuming you're going to want to get that part sorted too, no?"

  "Appreciate that," I muttered, my voice low, unwilling to meet her eyes. Asking for blood—it made sense from a survival standpoint. I was a vampire now, after all. Blood kept me functioning. But still, there was enough of the old me left to feel... off... about asking another person to give it to me willingly. Especially with the knowledge that I was going to drink it. It felt simultaneously creepy and... degenerate.

  "No," Mina interjected, her voice soft but firm, filled with an unexpected sincerity. "I appreciate that you took the time to consider using kits, instead of just biting us. You could’ve done that. You could’ve taken it, and neither of us could've stopped you." Her eyes were earnest, the gratitude in them genuine.

  I shrugged, still trying to understand why she was thanking me. As far as I was concerned it was clear as crystal.

  It simply didn’t make sense to just bite them, without a damn good reason. First off, I wasn’t even sure I could stop once I started. But more than that, it would’ve felt... wrong. Scummy. The Orcs? The Goblins? They were monsters—cannibals who tried to kill me. Bill? He’d had it coming. And anyone else who dared cross me in the future? Fair game. I didn't feel a twinge of regret for taking blood from any of them.

  But the Millers? They hadn’t wronged me. Why would I want to hurt them? No, my teeth were for those who deserved it, simple as that. It was a rule I’d made for myself, even though I'd only realised just now that I'd made it. Felt like a good rule to have.

  "Told youuuu… good guyyyy..." Tina sang out, her voice light and teasing as she passed by me. She plopped down next to her sister, her arm already outstretched, ready to "donate" some blood.

  I rolled my eyes, taking a few steps back, watching as Mina had started unpacking the kits, reading the instructions. There was still more than enough blood sloshing in my stomach that I was the furthest thing from hungry—peckish at best. And even being so close to the twins and their constant, appetizing, delicious... I shook my head in a sharp hiss... beating hearts, had done little to risk me losing control.

  As long as I was properly fed, I’d learned to ignore the bloodlust. The craving was a gnawing thing in the back of my mind, but I could shut it out. Keeping busy—training, sparring, hell, even just smoking—was enough to keep me from slipping. A lifetime of deprivation had honed my ability to live without. I’d spent years denying myself things I wanted. Now, even the constant temptation of fresh blood didn’t hold me in its grip unless I let it.

  The Animal's frustration, it's lashing out from the back of my head as blood began to flow and fill both bags, and I simply stood there, was like a balm onto my still, black heart. I dug nails into the palms of my hands, clenched my teeth to keep the fangs from popping and held my ground as if imbedded into the concrete.

  "Spite the devil! Just for the hell of it!" I thought, almost grinning as it roared it's powerless rage. Little actions, that on the outside meant so little. But for me, it still meant the world. I was in charge. Not it. Never it.

  Long minutes later, both women stood, each holding a blood bag, filled to the brim. Mina looked a tad woozy, but other than that, neither looked to worse for wear.

  "So... do.... do you want to... like... drink.... it?" Tina began, looking a little green around the cheeks.

  I chuckled "Oh yea sure, why not gargle some blood in direct eyesight of the two people that gave it. Woman, are you out of your mind?"

  "Okay good," she exhaled, relaxing immediately "Yeah, I'd rather not see that. It's a little bit..."

  "Creepy as all hell? Yeah. I know. No worries there."

  "Be that as it may, Jon, even inside the plastic bags, this blood will only be... good... for about an hour. Blood is usually kept in frozen storage, otherwise it coagulates and..." Mina began, going quiet as soon as she saw me pull out an Aether Stone.

  "I've learned something in the past twenty-four hours. Fey like doing commerce. A LOT. And their services are varied, as long as you know what to ask for" I answered her unspoken question, a wide, and slightly smug, grin plastered on my face. "Little Puck!"

  With a short pop, the tiny little Fey appeared in front of me, glowing blue orbs glinting rapidly. Was she happy I'd called on her again? Her coat seemed a bit whiter. Even the burlap sack seemed slightly less rancid.

  "Hey there little one, you look better!" I spoke gently, trying to put on the gentlest smile I could muster.

  “Jon, who’s this?” Tina murmured, not taking her eyes off the small Fey.

  “It’s Puck.”

  “No, nonono, Puck is tall, creepy, gangly and weird. This is an adorable fluff ball that I want to pet” she deadpanned, and I turned my head slowly to the young lady. It scared me a little bit that I couldn’t figure out whether Tina was being silly or serious.

  “Please, do not pet the eldritch… whatever she is…”

  “She?” Mina asked.

  “Yeah, it’s what Puck said. Apparently she’s a girl-Fey.”

  “Now I want to pet her even more. She looks like a bunny” Tina said, eliciting a frantic flailing from Little Puck’s arms. Apparently the small Fey didn’t like being compared to a rabbit. Either way, there wasn’t time for this and I stretched out my hand to her, holding the Aether Stone. If my theory was right and this worked, I could continue helping this little one, and gain a monumental advantage for myself.

  "I need to have two things stored. Kept locked in time, so they don't spoil. Can you do that?"

  Her eyes jumped from the Aether Stone to my face several times. "Can.... do..... that...... Is..... stronger now......thanks.... to kind......person......But.... one Aether Stone.... too much.... for such simple.... request. Ten items... per Aether... Stone."

  She could talk? Well... a guttural pained whisper, but still. Progress. Just form the single Aether Stone I'd already given her before.

  I smiled again, expecting something like that. Considering their ability to seemingly manifest things from nothing, I'd assumed that something like storing items would be more than doable. And all my talks with Puck had made it pretty self evident that, as long as you knew how to work around the concept of a service, Feyvolken were capable to do a lot more than simple vendor interactions.

  "Then consider this a long-term partnership. I'll keep adding items until we reach the limit, then I'll give you more Stones to raise that limit. Sound good?"

  Puck nodded frantically reaching for the pulsing rock in my hand.

  "Puck will come... deliver items.... when... ever.... called.... She can plane shift... again..."

  Tiny hands wrapping around the Stone, she drew back a littl,e immediately beginning to nibble on it, fur getting visibly cleaner with every chomp, blue orbs lighting up with arcs of mana. Within seconds, she'd consumed the magical energy in the rock and pattered towards the girls, holding out her tiny arms for the blood bags. No way to deny that it was pretty adorable. Considering how small and fluffy the little creature was, it almost looked like a kitten asking to be picked up.

  "Can.... can I pet you, please?" Tina stammered, timid voice a far cry from her usual boisterous surety. Apparently the tall woman really did have a soft spot for small, fuzzy creatures.

  "Please... do not pet... the Eldritch" little Puck stammered, the strain in her voice slightly faded, parroting my earlier quote and I sputtered, almost falling into a full belly-laugh. Oh, I really like this one.

  As soon as she grabbed hold of the blood bags and squirreled them under her potato-sack of a garment, the little Fey turned back to me and waved.

  "Thank you... kind person.... for... saving this one...."

  I waved back and, with a dull pop, she disappeared.

  "Jon?" Mina started after a few seconds of looking at the spot where the Fey had just been. "Did you just get yourself an inventory?"

  "I think that'd sum it up, in a sense, yeah."

  We started at each other for long seconds, until Mina narrowed her eyes with a weaselly smile. "You're a lot smarter than you let on."

  I shrugged and mirrored the young woman's grin "Sun Tzu. Let people think you're weak when you're strong. Or dumb when you're smart!"

  "Oh no, I didn't think you were dumb. I just didn't expect anyone to deduce this option before I did" she snickered, dragging the rucksack behind her as she walked towards me. "Holy... man, how do you carry this thing, it weighs a ton!"

  "Really? Doesn't feel that heavy to me." I said, donning my hunting jacket and grabbing the thirty kilo rucksack one handed. Oh. Right. Vampire strength. "Think it's about time I get ready to head out. I think dawn just about here, right?"

  Mina nodded. "Twenty minutes. Half an hour at most, and it'll be night."

  I quirked an eyebrow. Was that hesitation I could hear in her voice?

  "Penny for your thoughts?"

  Mina sighed and looked at me, worrying at her knuckles. "I dunno, Jon. Maybe it's too risky for you to go out there. It seemed like a good idea, it still does, but now that you got to go, I'm starting to get worried. Maybe I should've gone to the roof and checked out the area more. Drawn up a roadmap for you to follow in order to avoid those monsters as much as possible. O...or...staked it out with my monocular, make the convoy is really clear. Or..."

  For the life of me, I couldn't tell why I did it. Maybe because she was so small. Maybe because a part of me actually appreciated having someone worry about me for once. No idea why I reached out and head patted her in between the pigtails. Not like she was a kid. We were the same age.

  "You're spiraling. The world's become a place no one can control or predict anymore. And it's not like you're making me do it. I want that APC for myself too, y'know."

  She sighed and smiled gently. "Don't suppose I can convince you that I've reconsidered and would prefer that you stay here where it's safe? I could probably figure out a less risky plan."

  I snickered. "Sorry girl, I'm a guy. You've given me the option to drive a tank and you think I'm gonna pass on it? Hell no."

  "Figured! Men!" she deadpanned, trying to feign exasperation and failing miserably, as she unslung the sawed-off shotgun off her narrow shoulders and offered it to me, along with every shell she had tucked in her fanny pack.

  I blinked. "It's gonna take a while for me to get this done. That's for your protection..."

  "Non-negociable! We're here, barricaded. You're the one going out there into danger. So you get every advantage. Just... okay.....? I want you to come back..." she interrupted, refusing to outright meet my eyes, the red around her ears deepening, still holding the preferred weapon. "Now, hurry up and take them, the gun's heavy!"

  I loaded the sawed-off and tied it to a knife latch on my belt. No point in looking a gift horse in the mouth.

  "So Jon, what's the plan?" Tina asked, moving beside us.

  "The moment the Sun sets, lift the cargo doors just enough for me to roll under. Then close it quickly."

  "Right! Keep safe, tough guy. And come back a.s.a.p. I want a rematch!" Tina said with a smirk.

  "Sure. Sounds like fun" I answered.