Mud. That was the first thing that greeted Prince Vlad III's consciousness as he looked down from his agitated horse. Thick, reddish mud, stained with the blood of his soldiers, covered the entire valley. The smell of death hung heavy in the cold air, mingled with the metallic tang of drying blood and the putrid stench of unburied corpses. Above them, the Wallachian sky wept in an endless gray drizzle, as if mourning their defeat.
The battle at the border was a massacre. Vlad, known as the Impaler, whose fierce warrior reputation had made generals across Europe tremble, had deployed every ounce of tactical cunning and bravery he possessed. His troops, loyal Wallachian soldiers, fought like lions, defending their homeland with steel and lives. But it wasn't enough.
"Your Highness," a hoarse voice called from beside him. It was Captain Gherman, one of the few remaining trusted officers, his stern face smeared with soot and exhaustion. "The last reports are in. We've lost almost two-thirds of our forces. The Janissaries... they were like an unstoppable tidal wave."
Vlad didn't reply, his jaw clenched. He looked into the distance, towards the horizon filled with thousands of flickering bonfires, like stars of hell. The camp of Sultan Mehmed II's army. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers, colossal war machines, and endless resources. While he? He was left with only a handful of exhausted peasants and soldiers.
"And the Sultan's demands..." Gherman continued hesitantly, "...he won't negotiate. A thousand boys to become Janissaries, and... Prince Ingeras."
The mention of his son's name was like a knife twisting in Vlad's heart. He closed his eyes, the image of his young, laughing son appearing in his mind. He had promised to protect him, to protect his people. But how could he protect them from such a storm? The cowardly nobles were already pressuring him to surrender, to sacrifice his son to save their own skins.
That night, inside his humble tent, Vlad stared at the map of his territory, which now seemed so small and fragile. He felt choked by despair. He had prayed to God. He had begged for divine intervention. But all he received was the silence of the gray sky and bitter defeat.
"If God won't answer my prayers..." he whispered to the flickering candlelight, "...then to whom should I ask?"
It was then that a long-buried memory resurfaced. A story told by an old soldier around a campfire years ago. The legend of the Broken Tooth Mountains, a place where an ancient demon, was trapped inside a cave. The legend said that the creature could grant unimaginable power, the power to destroy armies alone. But at a proportional price: the supplicant's soul.
Vlad had always dismissed it as superstition, a terrifying bedtime story to scare children. But now, in absolute desperation, that superstition felt like the only hope left.
He rose, putting on his dented, blood-stained armor. A cold, dreadful determination now froze in his eyes. He would sacrifice anything. His honor. His humanity. Even his soul. All of it meant nothing compared to the safety of his son and his people.
He walked out of his tent, ignoring Captain Gherman's bewildered gaze. He mounted his most loyal horse, alone, without guards.
"Your Highness, where are you going?" Gherman asked anxiously.
Vlad stared at the jagged silhouette of the Broken Tooth Mountains in the distance, which looked like giant teeth ready to swallow the moon.
"I'm going to meet a demon," Vlad replied, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "And I will make a pact with him."
With a single tug on the reins, he spurred his horse into the dark night, towards his cursed destiny.
Tom Jacker arrived in this new world with a sense of amusement. He appeared at the top of a tall pine tree, in the middle of a dark, dense forest in Wallachia. The air was cold and damp, carrying the scent of wet earth and a faint fear. From his elevated position, he could sense two very interesting energy sources, like two notes in a tragic song.
The first note was a burning energy, full of despair, anger, and the courage of a cornered hero. That was Prince Vlad. "A soul ready to break," Tom thought with a faint smile. "Always a good show."
The second note was much stronger, older, and darker. A thick, ancient evil aura, locked somewhere in the nearby mountains. That was the true source of power in this world, the real grand prize.
"The plan is simple," Tom murmured to himself as he silently leaped down from the tree. "Get the grand prize first, then we'll set the stage for our main actor."
Ignoring Vlad for now, Tom focused his mind on the dark aura and teleported. Instantly, the forest scenery vanished, replaced by the darkness and dampness of a very deep cave in the heart of the Broken Tooth Mountains. Piles of human and animal bones lay scattered on the floor, and the only source of light was strange moss that glowed a faint blue on the stone walls.
At the end of the cave, sitting on a throne made of stone and bones, was an ancient being. It was the Master Vampire. His skin was as pale as a corpse, his eyes glowed red like embers, and his long, sharp claws looked capable of tearing through steel. He exuded an aura of power and evil accumulated over thousands of years.
The creature raised his head as Tom appeared, his red eyes narrowing. "A mortal? How dare you enter my lair? Do you come seeking power, or death?" His voice was hoarse, like the grinding of a tombstone.
"Actually, both sound delightful," Tom replied cheerfully. "But I'm more interested in your power. It seems it's time for you to retire."
The Master Vampire laughed, a dry, terrible sound. "Arrogant human!" With unexpected speed, he lunged from his throne, appearing before Tom in a blink, his claws ready to tear out Tom's heart.
The fight, if it could be called that, was very short and very one-sided.
The Master Vampire's claws, which should have been able to pierce steel armor, only scratched Tom's leather jacket before his Tom Template regenerated the minor damage instantly. The Master Vampire's physical attacks, which had the power to shatter large stones, felt only like annoying nudges to Tom.
"My turn," Tom said boredly.
He didn't need to transform into Shazam Tom. He simply activated one of the Quirks from his All For One library. A concentrated burst of blue Hellflame shot from his hand. The Master Vampire, who might have been immune to ordinary fire, shrieked as the magic-enhanced hellfire burned his pale skin.
In his panic, he tried to transform into a swarm of bats to escape, but Tom had already anticipated it. Using Telekinesis, he created an invisible cage in the air, trapping every bat inside, then with a single mental tug, he gathered them all back into the Master Vampire's original form, slamming him hard onto the cave floor.
The Master Vampire now lay helpless, part of his body scorched, staring at Tom with a mixture of disbelief and pure terror.
"You... you're not human," he hissed.
"I am evolution," Tom replied. He walked closer and touched the Master Vampire's cold forehead. He didn't copy his power with the System. He did something more fundamental. He forced his "Shazam Tom Template" to assimilate the essence of the curse directly from its source.
He felt a wave of cold, dark energy trying to attack and corrupt him from within. But that energy immediately clashed with the divine lightning energy of Shazam within him. A fierce reaction occurred within Tom's soul, a war between demonic darkness and holy light.
[System Panel]
-Warning: Basic template is assimilating primordial curse energy... Conflict detected between divine energy (Shazam) and demonic energy (Vampire)... Initiating purification process... Assimilation successful... Purification Complete...
-System Notification: Your template has evolved into 'Shazam-Holy Vampire Tom'.
-New passive ability added to template: Holy Vampire Physiology (Vampire Strength & Speed, Advanced Regeneration, Bat/Mist Transformation, Enhanced Senses) without supernatural weaknesses to sun or silver. New active ability added to template: Vampire Creation (Holy/Normal).
Tom felt an incredible new power flowing within him. He could feel every drop of blood in his own body pulsating with new energy. He snapped his fingers, and he transformed into a swarm of small bats fluttering around the cave before returning to his human form. He grinned, feeling his fangs lengthen slightly before returning to normal.
He glanced at the Master Vampire, who was now a brittle, dry corpse, all his power sucked dry.
"Thanks for the 'contribution'," Tom said to the corpse. He then sensed another presence outside the cave. A presence filled with despair. Prince Vlad had arrived.
Tom smiled. The smile of a predator who had just finished his main course and was now ready to play with his food. "I got the grand prize."
He snapped his fingers again, using his Quirk and magic to shroud himself in an illusion of darkness, changing his appearance into a terrifying ancient demonic figure, exactly as Vlad might have imagined in his nightmares.
"Now... it's showtime."