Tiger (Two-in-One)

Jack Wilson, Arkansas.

In the northwest corner of Jack Wilson Town stands an old three-story mansion that has been abandoned for many years; few people dare to approach it under normal circumstances.

It is said that many people died in that house. The original owner was once a prominent plantation owner in town, possessing a vast cotton field north of the town and hundreds of enslaved Black people.

However, the master of the house was exceptionally cruel to his slaves, and one could often see the corpses of those tortured to death discarded nearby. Whether it is true or not, it is said that the master cruelly murdered a male slave whose wife was a shaman, and she cursed the master of the house.

One night, the master went mad, shot and killed his wife and children, and finally committed suicide by shooting himself. The terrified townspeople burned the female slave to death, and the mansion was completely abandoned. No one ever dared to take over or claim the land, and the area became a forbidden zone in Jacksonville.

Whether the rumors are true is unknown, but if anyone were to see the scene inside the old mansion at this moment, they might be haunted by nightmares for the rest of their lives.

Over a dozen pale, mummified corpses are scattered haphazardly throughout the hall and various rooms. There are men and women, and even the elderly and children. They look like withered flowers, extremely shriveled as if they had been air-dried.

At nightfall, in the cellar of the old mansion, a coffin—covered in dry mud and tree roots, though no one knows how it was placed there—is slowly pushed open from within. A pale, slender finger grips the edge, and a figure slowly rises.

Adam looks as if he hasn't bathed in a very long time.

His hair is matted with dirt and mottled, dark-brown blood clots, and a woolen coat he scavenged from somewhere is so filthy that its original color is unrecognizable. His complexion remains as pale as ever, but it is covered in fine wrinkles as if he has aged, and his eyes look somewhat gray and cloudy.

He licks his chapped lips, seemingly sensing something, and curls his lips into a cruel smile.

Boom!

Victor kicks open the mansion's front door, sending accumulated dust swirling throughout the room.

The house is pitch black, but Victor makes no attempt to light an oil lamp or candle. His pupils glow in the darkness like the luminous eyes of a feline at night, his vision completely unaffected.

He glances casually at the corpses scattered around the room, sniffs the air, and his expression turns one of disgust.

"Your choice was correct."

Adam emerges from the cellar, moves with surprising agility to pull over a high-backed chair, and sits in the center of the main hall. His expression seems as relaxed as ever, though his visibly shriveled and wrinkled skin exposes his poor condition.

"I don't think so," Victor says, his face filled with undisguised contempt.

Adam's expression falters for a moment before he suddenly smiles cunningly: "But you came anyway, didn't you? You don't really have a choice."

He chuckles self-deprecatingly and continues: "That brother of yours—of course, I don't know exactly what your relationship is, and the powers you two possess seem quite different. He truly surprised me; his strength caused me the first such injury I've suffered in nearly a thousand years."

Victor stands silently, offering no response.

"But you crave power, don't you? Your desire for strength is undisguised. So, if we combine my power with yours..." Adam's eyes flash with an eerie red light as he continues excitedly, "It will surely far surpass his!"

"Are you so confident that I would accept your so-called power?" Victor glances around at the many drained corpses and continues dismissively: "I've killed hundreds of your servants. That kind of power isn't worthy of me."

In Victor's eyes, even gaining the power of some ordinary vampires is useless; he has no interest in those laughable half-finished products.

"No, no, no. You are different from them. You will receive my power, my Source Blood! And that will turn you into the most terrifying existence in this world! Besides—" Adam blinks, staring eerily at Victor, and slowly stands up.

"Why do you think you have the right to choose?" Adam reaches out his palm toward Victor, his five fingers spread wide, the blood-red light in his eyes appearing almost tangible.

Crack!

Victor's knees buckle under what seems to be immense pressure, twitching and shaking uncontrollably. He lets out a low, muffled roar, but he doesn't hold out for long before—thump!—he drops heavily to his knees in front of Adam.

"Hahahaha! From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were destined to be my servant! You were too careless, weren't you? You've been bitten by my descendants many times, and that final bite I gave you left you with no chance to resist!"

Victor's body trembles constantly, as if fighting against something.

As Adam speaks, he strips off his clothes. Dark blue blood vessels pulse across his naked body, and Adam uses his sharp, black-red fingernails to slice open the skin on the left side of his chest.

"Come, drink my Source Blood and become my most powerful servant. I want that bastard who dared to hurt me to be killed by his own brother! Go, take revenge for me, and reclaim everything I have lost—the glory of a god." Adam spreads his arms wide, his head tilted back.

From the region of his heart flows not the black-red blood of an ordinary vampire, but a crystalline, fluorescent red Source Blood that emits a strange, sweet fragrance. This blood seems exceptionally thick, like gelatin, and does not flow or drip onto the floor.

Victor appears completely controlled. He walks forward slowly, grabs Adam's shoulders, leans down, and bites into the wound at his heart.

Gulp!

The moment the first mouthful of Source Blood is swallowed, Victor's pupils constrict violently. It feels as if he has consumed scalding, potent liquor, a sensation that is both searing and intensely stimulating to his nerves. The blood seems to seep into his flesh and tissue the instant it enters his body, rather than traveling from his mouth to his stomach. Victor feels a ball of heat explode in his chest, then surge wildly throughout his entire body.

His bones begin to crack and pop, his claws grow out uncontrollably, and his messy, brownish-black hair falls to the ground. The hair on his body begins to shed, replaced by new, lustrous growth. His skin cracks and regenerates repeatedly, the new flesh becoming tougher and stronger.

"Enough. That's enough," Adam says, clearly lacking strength. But Victor shows no sign of stopping; his body continues to change, his bones shifting and growing within him.

"Stop! Stop! You, damn you! Stop!"

Awoo!

Adam lets out a long howl, his body rapidly shifting into the form he took during his previous battle with James, and he uses all his strength to push Victor away.

The claws on Victor's fingertips are noticeably thicker and longer. He subconsciously scratches his head; his original long hair is gone, and the new, short hair feels somewhat unfamiliar.

Adam hunches over, gasping for air. His body looks much like the human corpses he has drained, far from the full, robust state he was in during his battle with James. His bat wings have shrunk, and the coarse hair on his chest and back has turned faintly white.

"You! How could you defy me!"

Victor licks his lips, looking at Adam with an unsatisfied expression.

James had always assumed that a vampire's bite would cause Victor to lose his mind or even turn into a vampire. He wasn't entirely wrong; having been bitten by vampires repeatedly, Victor had absorbed the vampire venom bit by bit, which fueled his brutality and bloodlust. When he met Adam, he could indeed feel Adam's bloodline exerting some influence over him.

But after all, he is not an ordinary human. The fanatical, savage genetic power of Sabretooth is strong enough that even with the one bite Adam gave him, the control Adam exerts over Victor is no more than a persistent, annoying thought that occasionally pops into a person's mind.

If it were a split-second battle, this moment of distraction would be enough, but to completely control and make Victor obedient is beyond his reach.

Sabretooth never submits.

"You were right," Victor says, showing a rare, happy expression. He continues in a low voice: "This power does indeed make me stronger, but... it's not enough."

Adam's pitch-black pupils were devoid of any luster, yet his twisted, ferocious face seemed to have transcended mere anger.

"Bastard! Damn you!"

Bang!

Adam lunged at Victor with both claws outstretched. The floor of the dilapidated mansion exploded into a massive crater, sending splinters of wood flying across the room.

Thud! Victor stood his ground, catching Adam's claws in his own. The floorboards beneath his feet shattered repeatedly, his legs driven deep into the tiles beneath the wood as the two engaged in a brutal test of strength, claw against claw.

"Your strength is far lacking. Is it because of your previous wounds, or should I blame myself for having almost eaten you dry?"

Roar!

A roar unlike any other erupted from Victor's chest, the sound waves pressing down on Adam. He drove his claws deep into Adam's palms, instinctively utilizing the twisting, churning power of the Tiger Form Fist.

Crack! Crack! Victor twisted Adam's arms and shoulders like a wrung-out rag. Adam shrieked in agony, thrashing his body wildly in a desperate attempt to break free from Victor's grip. But with his arms completely devoid of strength and escape impossible, he saw the look in Victor's eyes turn increasingly dangerous and predatory. Adam had no choice but to—rip!

He tore off his own arms. With blood gushing from his shoulders, he flapped his bat-like wings frantically, flying toward the roof above the grand staircase. Victor yanked his feet free and leaped, using the spiraling staircase railing to vault upward and give chase.

He grabbed hold of Adam's feet and dragged him back down with brute force.

Adam let out two shrill cries before Victor swung him in a half-circle and slammed him into the ground, leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake.

A massive boot crushed Adam's sternum. Victor bent down, grabbed Adam's wings with both hands, and tightened his back muscles, ripping the wings clean out of his body.

"Don't—don't kill me. I'm still useful. I'm useful, I can help you."

Adam muttered incessantly. Now, with his arms severed and his wings torn away, he was nothing more than a limbless torso.

Victor, as if listening to the annoying buzz of a mosquito, shook his head. He moved his foot aside, grabbed Adam by the throat, and hoisted him into the air. He looked over Adam's miserable state and couldn't help but remark, "James was right. A wretch like you has the audacity to call yourself a god."

He shook his head again, grabbed Adam's hip bone with his other hand, and held him horizontally. In his prime, Adam's true form was even taller than Victor, and with his broad wings, he had been a figure of immense pressure. Now, however, he looked severely shrunken, like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered before a tiger.

Adam's legs twitched as he struggled weakly. With his throat tightly clamped in Victor's grip, he couldn't utter a sound. He watched as Victor opened his maw, revealing sharp canine teeth, and bit into his heart.

Gulp. Gulp.

Victor swallowed the last of Adam's Source Blood in large gulps. His body continued to mutate, and a powerful aura surged from him, while Adam's pitch-black pupils gradually faded to a dull, ashen gray.

"You don't have to be so hard on yourself. To be honest, I was very surprised when you brought this up today, and I admire you for it."

James and President Lincoln were speaking at the entrance of the banquet hall. After the meeting concluded, the Lincolns had insisted on seeing him and O'Hara off. While the women were sharing their final words, the two men stepped aside for one last conversation.

"No, James, I know what my original intentions were." Lincoln looked at his toes with a sense of melancholy and continued, "From the moment I was pushed into this position, it was to satisfy the needs of the Northern capitalists. The other side of my resolve to fight this war was my hatred for the vampires. But to say I was truly worried about the lives and suffering of those Southern black slaves..."

President Lincoln shook his head and let out a long sigh. "Slavery has been abolished, and the war is nearing a victorious end, but the Southern plantation owners can still conduct their cotton business. The black slaves they kept are no longer slaves in the eyes of the law, but how much will their lives really change? And what of the black people working in these Northern factories?"

"We have nearly wiped out the vampires on the American Continent, which has left the Southern slaveholders without support, directly or indirectly. We have legally affirmed the freedom of black people, and from this day on, we have planted the seeds of true equality." James looked at President Lincoln with firm eyes, hoping to offer him support.

"Leveling a mountain is easier than leveling the prejudices in people's hearts. Regardless of your original intentions today, history will bear witness and tell the people whether your choices today were correct."

"Hey! If that were the case, I'd be nothing but dust and bones by then! Fine, have it your way—let everything be left to the damn history books!" President Lincoln laughed heartily, even resorting to profanity. His bold, infectious energy had been the greatest force in uniting the nation during this era.

James held O'Hara's hand as they strolled toward the front of the White House, where the Howlett Family carriage was already waiting.

O'Hara's mood was not as bright as it had been when they arrived; she seemed a bit tired. She lowered her swan-like neck, tucked her arm into James's, and leaned against his shoulder.

The two fell into a sudden, shy, and awkward silence. It was the first time they had attended a banquet together like this.

After boarding the carriage, James turned to gaze at the White House. A voice suddenly whispered in his heart: Abraham, it won't just be history—I will bear witness for you as well.

The coachman cracked his whip, and the carriage wheels rolled forward.