Vampire Overlord's Harem In The Apocalypse

Before Simon could settle into the mansion as his base, he had one thing left to do — retrieve his car.

It had been a lifeline for him throughout the chaos, and now, it was crucial. He needed it, not just for transportation, but because it was a symbol of something more stable in a world that had become anything but calm, besides it held their resources.

The plan was simple: get the car and head back to the mansion, where he could finally get some rest and regroup.

As he walked down the narrow alley, the sight of his car made him exhale in relief. It was still there, parked just as he'd left it.

A quick glance around confirmed that no one had tampered with it. He walked toward it, his steps brisk, the tension in his shoulders starting to ease.

But as his hand reached out to open the car door, something in the air shifted. A feeling of unease crept up his spine, his instincts flaring. He paused.

Turning slowly, his senses went into overdrive. That's when he saw him. A young man, tall and athletic-looking, stood at the other end of the alley.

He wore a university uniform, the kind you might see on a college campus, but in this world, it looked absurdly out of place.

The man had a gun in his hand, the barrel pointed straight at Simon. His glasses gleamed in the dim light, and despite their seemingly innocent appearance, his eyes held a cold, malicious gleam.

It was clear: this was someone who had embraced the new world with a twisted sense of enjoyment.

Simon didn't flinch. Instead, he just stood there, his expression hardening. His crimson eyes narrowed as he sized up the stranger.

The young man didn't seem intimidated in the slightest.

"I didn't expect to find anything in this alley," the young man said, his voice casual, almost like they were having a conversation in a pre-apocalyptic world.

He took a step forward, his boots clicking against the concrete. "But you did a good job hiding it, I'll give you that. But now? It's all mine."

Simon's lips pressed into a thin line, his stance unchanging. He wasn't saying anything, but his body language made it clear that he wasn't backing down. There was something about the young man's words — his smugness — that grated on Simon.

He felt the weight of the situation pressing in, but he didn't show it. His bloodlust, though, was unmistakable.

His eyes seemed to glow a little brighter, an outward sign of the anger simmering just below the surface.

The young man grinned, seeming to enjoy the silence between them. "It's a shame you weren't a woman," he said, licking his lips. "Would've had a little fun with you, you know?"

Simon's hands curled into fists, the words like a slap to his face.

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with fury. He could already tell what kind of person this was — someone who relished the chaos and cruelty of the new world. Someone who thought he could do whatever he wanted because society had broken down.

It disgusted Simon, it was in the Apocalypse where one would find people who had been disgusting on a low openly admitting it. He wouldn't let this guy get under his skin.

Without hesitation, Simon moved. He was faster than the young man had anticipated. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them.

The man barely had time to raise his gun before Simon slapped it out of his hand.

It flew sideways, hitting the alley wall with a sharp metallic noise before clattering to the ground. The young man's eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react, Simon was already on him.

The punch came without warning, a blur of motion that landed squarely in the young man's stomach.

It wasn't meant to kill, not yet. But the sheer force of the blow shattered the man's ribs, and the air was knocked out of his lungs in an instant.

He staggered back, gasping, clutching his chest as if he could somehow stop the pain.

Simon didn't give him time to recover. He reached out, grabbing the young man by the hair and lifting his head. The man winced, his face contorting in pain, but Simon's grip was like iron.

"Allies," Simon said coldly, his voice low and threatening. "Where are they?"

The young man's eyes flickered with defiance, but Simon could see the hesitation in his expression. It wasn't fear — at least not yet. But it was close. The man's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, but he still managed to grin, albeit painfully.

"You really think you're going to get anything out of me?"

Simon's expression didn't change. His grip on the man's hair tightened. He didn't have time for games, not now.

He needed answers, and he wasn't going to let this guy play him.

"Last chance," Simon said, his voice becoming a growl. "Where are your allies? I'm not going to ask again."

The young man's grin faltered, replaced by a look of uncertainty. His body was wracked with pain, and it was clear he wasn't prepared to deal with someone like Simon.

But even in his weakened state, there was still a flicker of defiance in his eyes.

He coughed, then muttered through clenched teeth, "Fine. There's a group. Near the old shopping center. A few blocks away."

His voice was weak, but there was still a venomous edge to it. "But you think they'll just let you waltz in there? They'll tear you apart."

Simon didn't flinch. He already knew what kind of people he was dealing with — survivalists who had thrown all morals aside. But he had the information he needed.

The young man wasn't useful anymore.

Simon released him, shoving him roughly to the ground. The man crumpled, gasping for breath, but Simon didn't care. His foot loomed over the young man's head and with a violent stomp, he stole the life of the man beneath him.