Why was everyone a vampire?

Lucian took the document and opened it.

"Personal representation and development agreement."

"This is a separate contract." Brink's voice carried a devilish temptation. "It won't go through the school or that old bureaucrat Shetty. I'll use my personal resources to arrange the best tactical trainers and the best PR team for you, and even help plan your future hero persona. In return..."

Lucian glanced at the revenue-sharing clause.

A ninety-ten split.

Ninety for Brink, ten for him. The term: twenty years.

He really had the fucking nerve to ask.

Even capitalists would shed tears of shame at the sight. Twenty years-he meant to suck Lucian dry, down to the marrow, and leave nothing behind. By the time the contract expired in twenty years, a superhero's prime would be long over.

"Professor, this split..." Lucian deliberately made his voice sound a little strained, his brow tightly furrowed.

"Lu, take the long view," Brink interrupted, his tone earnest, like a bitterly disappointed father. "You have nothing right now. Ten percent of several million, or a hundred percent of zero-which would you choose?"

He tapped the desk. "I'm investing in you, and investments carry risks. This contract buys you a chance to move up in the world. If you don't sign, guess how far an Asian kid with no connections can get in this dog-eat-dog school. Perhaps after graduation, you could work as a supermarket security guard in some third-tier city?"

Lucian fell silent.

He lowered his head and stared fixedly at the numbers on the contract. His hands clenched into fists, veins bulging across their backs.

Brink didn't rush him. He lifted his coffee and took a sip, certain of victory.

He knew these poor boys who clawed their way up from the bottom all too well. Their hunger for money and status was like a starving stray dog's hunger for meat. Offer them a ladder into high society, and never mind a ninety-ten split-they would press their fingerprints onto a contract selling themselves without hesitation.

Lucian laughed wildly to himself.

A separate contract? Not going through the school?

Perfect.

Vought International's legal department was a behemoth. If he signed an official school contract, getting out of it or stirring up trouble later would be extremely troublesome; one move would affect everything.

But that greedy old bastard Brink had actually arranged a private contract to keep all the profits for himself.

As long as it was a private agreement, once he had squeezed every last bit of value out of Brink and fully absorbed his abilities, connections, and resources, killing the old bastard wouldn't immediately trigger an official Vought alert.

This was practically meat delivered to his door.

"I'll sign." Lucian raised his head, his eyes filled with the ambition and resolve of someone driven into a corner.

He picked up the pen on the desk and signed his name with a few swift strokes, without the slightest hesitation.

"A smart choice, son." The wrinkles on Brink's face blossomed with his smile. He quickly took the contract, checked the signature, and carefully locked it in his safe.

"Starting tomorrow, you won't need to attend those boring basic theory classes. Report to my private training room at eight in the morning. I'll arrange your first phase of special training." Brink sat back down in his chair, assuming the air of an elder.

"Thank you, Professor." Lucian stood and bowed slightly.

"Off you go. Get some rest. Your good days are only just beginning."

Lucian turned and left the office.

The door clicked shut behind him.

At that moment, the awkwardness, gratitude, and humiliation on his face vanished without a trace.

In their place came a cold sneer.

A ninety-ten split?

Old bastard, even if you live long enough to collect it, you'll have to live long enough to spend it.

During the week after signing the contract, Lucian spent every day in Brink's private training room. Superpowers were great, but fighting skills were just as important. He didn't want to be reduced to flailing his fists when he faced someone on his own level in the future.

Just as he was considering which fighting style to practice, a new punching bag arrived.

The guy's name was Marcus, and his ability was "Partial Metallization," LV2. Brink had specially transferred this advanced punching bag from the senior class to help Lucian quickly adapt to high-intensity combat.

The old bastard really had spared no expense.

After they clashed, Lucian panted heavily. He couldn't make it look too easy; he had to make Brink feel that this "investment" was worth the money and entirely under his control.

"Again." Lucian gritted his teeth and charged, deliberately leaving an opening.

Marcus brought a knife-hand strike down on Lucian's shoulder.

Intense pain shot through him. Lucian used the impact to roll away and create some distance, and a familiar mechanical voice sounded in his mind.

[Superpower: Partial Metallization LV2.]

[Copy successful]

A strange warmth spread along his spine. He could feel some subtle restructuring taking place in his bones and muscles.

This was already the third ability he had copied that week.

Brink's private training room was a treasure trove. Different types of Supes were assigned to spar with him every day. Speed types, strength types, defense types. Although most were low-grade stuff around LV2, they were all perfect puzzle pieces for Lucian.

Once he fused and upgraded these basic abilities, his physical toughness would rise another small step.

"That's enough for today." Brink's voice came from the second-floor control room.

The old fox came downstairs with his coffee, his face full of kindly warmth. "You're progressing quickly, Lu. At this rate, you'll definitely place well in next month's selection tournament."

"It's all thanks to your guidance, Professor." Lucian grabbed a towel to wipe away his sweat, his tone respectful.

"Go take a shower. Here, take this access card." Brink handed him a black magnetic card. "The Crimefighting College's internal database is open to you. Watch more combat footage of your predecessors. It'll do you good."

Lucian accepted the card with both hands.

This was what he truly wanted. With this card, he could access more of the resources Vought International kept hidden at the school, and even look up the files of people with special abilities.

A ninety-ten split? Old bastard, I'm already swiping your card.

Meanwhile, at a foul-smelling sewage outlet somewhere in New York Bay.

The Deep pinched his nose as he stared at the murky green seawater beneath him, reluctance written all over his face.

"Are you sure it's around here?" he complained into his communicator.

"That stretch of water is where the signal last disappeared." The cold voice of Vought's head of security came through the communicator. "Search carefully, Kevin. That box contains Translucent's tracking chip."

"I'm the Lord of the Ocean! Not a fucking sewer cleaner!" The Deep snarled through gritted teeth.

The other end went silent for two seconds. "These are direct orders from Ms. Madelyn. If you don't want to do it, I can replace you."

The Deep immediately shut up.

He held his breath and dove into the water.

Visibility underwater was extremely poor, with plastic bags and unidentified excrement floating everywhere. The Deep closed his eyes and emitted low-frequency sound waves.

Several mutated sea bass covered in tumors swam over.

"Have you seen a glowing metal box?" The Deep asked in his mind.

The sea bass blew a few bubbles and sent him a jumble of images: huge iron-hulled ships, stinking rotten meat, and The Deep's gleaming scales.

A bunch of idiots.

The Deep irritably waved the fish away.

Progress was far too slow. That damned box seemed to have vanished into thin air. What frustrated him even more was that hardly anyone at the company actually cared whether Translucent lived or died anymore.

He surfaced, climbed ashore, and took out his waterproof phone. The top trending topic on Twitter was still that glaring headline: Starlight uses excessive force.

In the video, that country bumpkin who had just joined The Seven was wearing casual clothes in a filthy Brooklyn alley, nearly blinding two thugs who had tried to rape a girl with her intense light.

The beginning and end had been cut off before the video was uploaded online. The internet had gone crazy, with people saying Supes were using excessive force and asking whether America was safe anymore.

Vought's executives were furious. Starlight hadn't reported her actions beforehand or brought a camera crew, and now that they had found the girl to clear things up, she refused to appear on camera.

All of Madelyn's attention was on handling this PR crisis now. As for Translucent? How could the life or death of an invisible pervert have as much commercial value as The Seven's new star?

The Deep kicked away a can by his feet. He started laughing. This counted as the only good news he'd had in days.