James adjusted the high collar of his black buttoned coat as he stepped forward onto the train's front platform. The cold night wind whipped against his face, but his expression remained unreadable—calm, steady, expectant. The rails ahead gleamed under the dim moonlight, stretching into the darkness where Adam and his followers lay in wait.
Victor, standing beside him, leaned forward and squinted at the figures below. With a sharp tug, he pulled the train's emergency brakes. The screeching of metal against metal split the night as the locomotive ground to a halt, throwing up sparks that illuminated the ghostly figures of the vampires gathered around them. The sheer force of the sudden stop sent a vibration through the entire train, the final groan of the machinery echoing in the stillness.
Victor wasted no time. He leaped onto the roof of the carriage, his massive frame silhouetted against the night sky. His bare upper body rippled with raw power, the dim firelight catching on the hard planes of his muscles. He loomed over the vampires below, exuding a force that was nothing short of primal.
"Hmm… interesting." Adam's voice was smooth, almost amused, but his eyes were sharp as they scanned Victor. He took a deep breath, and something in his expression flickered—curiosity, recognition, perhaps even caution.
Around them, the vampires moved in near silence, spreading out like shadows. Some climbed onto the roof, their figures barely making a sound as they landed, while others slithered into the carriages, disappearing into the darkness within.
From the treeline, Vadoma hesitated. She had already taken a few steps back, choosing to observe from the cover of the foliage rather than engage directly. Her hands tightened at her sides as she watched the unfolding confrontation, her breath steady but her expression unreadable.
James, standing tall on the train's front, locked eyes with Adam. He did not speak immediately—his entire body was attuned to his opponent, his instincts razor-sharp. Adam was different. This was no ordinary vampire, no mere creature of the night. There was something more in his presence, something deeper, something unsettling. James could feel it in the air.
Then, Adam moved.
In an instant, he launched upward, a blur of motion, his face contorting into something monstrous—his fangs bared, his complexion darkening with unnatural hues. His clawed hand shot toward James' head with lethal intent.
Boom!
The impact was deafening. James met the attack with a perfectly timed fist, their strikes colliding in an explosion of force. A shockwave rippled from the point of contact, rattling the train beneath them.
But Adam was fast. Too fast. James barely had time to register the weight behind the strike before he was knocked backward, his boots skidding across the metal roof. He absorbed the force, controlling his landing as he shifted his stance.
Adam, meanwhile, had already straightened, dusting off his coat as if nothing had happened. He now stood precisely where James had been just moments ago, his previous monstrous form shedding away like an illusion. His noble, refined demeanor returned with practiced ease, as if the bloodthirsty ghost had never surfaced.
The vampires watching from below let out satisfied murmurs. Confidence surged through them. They had witnessed James and Victor carve through their kind like scythes through wheat, but now—now, they saw their leader effortlessly repel the very force they feared.
Victor narrowed his eyes. He knew James' strength. No matter how much Victor had trained, no matter how much he had grown, James was always ahead—always stronger, always untouchable. And yet, this Adam had done what Victor never could. A part of him burned with frustration… and desire.
But Adam himself remained eerily composed. Beneath his outward calm, he was rapidly mending the internal damage inflicted by James' punch. The spiral force had twisted his bones, cracked them like brittle wood. Even as he stood there, pretending all was well, his body worked to repair itself.
This one is different.
He studied James closely now, intrigued. The boy looked no older than thirty, yet his fists carried a strange, unnatural power. A technique Adam had never encountered before.
James exhaled slowly. Then, with a quiet certainty, he spoke.
"You've already lost."
Adam arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And here I thought we were just getting started." His gaze flickered to the vampires emerging from the cargo car, silently asking for confirmation.
"They're telling the truth," Adam mused aloud. "You're using real ammunition."
James nodded. "Yes, but that's only part of it."
Adam's expression shifted, his amusement thinning. A creeping realization settled in his features.
James continued, his voice steady. "I informed President Lincoln about Joshua Speed's betrayal. It didn't take long to uncover his connections to the South. We let him think the Union's resources were limited to this one train, that this was our last shot." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "In reality, my factories have been working nonstop. Silver ammunition is already being distributed across multiple battlefronts."
Adam's eyes darkened. He had been outplayed.
The silence stretched. Then, unexpectedly, Adam laughed—a slow, rich sound, low and knowing.
"You truly believe you are different from us, don't you, James?" Adam's voice was almost gentle. "You think you and Victor, you and Lincoln, are something else?"
James met his gaze unflinchingly. "I know I am."
Adam smirked. "Because you don't drink blood?" His smile widened into something unnatural, something full of teeth. "You still don't understand, do you?"
He stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. His voice deepened, resonating through the night like a sermon.
"Our very existence is a problem. Strength, longevity, power—everything that sets us apart from mortals is the reason they will never accept us. Humans fool themselves into believing in equality, but there is one thing they can never escape: death."
James listened, silent.
"They can have different status, different wealth, different faces, different minds. But in the end, they all wither. They all die." Adam's voice was steady, impassioned. "And we… we don't."
He exhaled, his sharp eyes gleaming. "That is why we must rule them."
A long pause stretched between them.
Then James did something unexpected. He looked at Adam—not with anger, nor hatred, nor defiance, but pity.
"So this is your godhood?" James murmured.
Adam's face hardened.
James' fists clenched. His stance shifted, his entire presence growing heavier, sharper. "Then tell me, Adam—are you ready to become mortal tonight?"
Adam's expression flickered.
Then they moved.
The train roof shook beneath them as they collided, the force of their battle rattling through the iron beast. Adam's claws slashed through the air like lightning, aiming for James' throat. But James, with his strange, grounded stillness, countered effortlessly.
Adam was fast—unnaturally fast. But James… James was unshakable. His movements were simple, deliberate, as if he needed only the slightest shift to render Adam's attacks useless.
Below them, Victor roared as he tore through a cluster of vampires, his attacks brutal and unrelenting. Yet the bloodsuckers had learned from their fallen kin. They were no longer engaging head-on. They struck fast, withdrew, circled him like wolves.
The battlefield was shifting. And the night was far from over.