York lay in the northeast of the United Kingdom. It was the capital of North Yorkshire and held borough status.
In the outskirts of York stood an ancient castle bearing the marks of history.
Bor slipped his phone into his pocket. All the fear and panic vanished from his plump face, leaving only ferocity, as though everything before had been an illusion.
Behind him stood more than a dozen Vampire Hunters drenched in blood. They checked their weapons without expression, their eyes cold and devoid of emotion. The corpses littering the floor proved they were not merely trying to look tough.
Red light flickered over every one of them, but it was no beneficial buff. It was a special ability cast by the enemy.
Bor had brought twenty-five Vampire Hunters here. After a brutal battle that claimed more than half their companions, they had finally earned a moment to catch their breath.
Even so, the remaining Vampire Hunters showed no fear and paid no heed to death. Nearly all of them had already died once at the hands of vampires, and their hatred for vampires ran bone-deep.
Bor's beady eyes fixed on the figure before him.
"Surrender. You're a vampire..."
"I'm your daddy!"
The Chinese burst from Bor's mouth, every syllable crisp and clear.
Under Yang Bo's influence, Bor had begun exploring Chinese culture. Apparently, the first step in understanding any civilization was always learning its greetings-the ones that resonated with everyone.
Aside from "hello" and "have you eaten?", the first things Bor learned were all beep-beep... beep-beep... strings of profanity.
With a furious roar, Bor's hulking figure vanished from where he stood and appeared behind his opponent.
A slender spike stabbed toward his opponent's back with lightning speed. The weapon designed specifically for vampires easily pierced the spot behind