The three-story villa had classic European luxury styling, complete with a private courtyard and even a swimming pool.
Aside from looking a bit neglected and dusty, it was nearly perfect.
Such historic homes were often highly sought after in the American real estate market.
Yet this one had a dark reputation as a haunted house.
In just three years, it had changed owners three times.
At least four or five people had died inside, with many more deaths stretching back over its hundred-year history.
Police investigations always concluded the deaths were accidents, but the neighbors remained convinced it was cursed.
Alexander had once dismissed such stories as superstition.
Now, after encountering werewolves and witches, he wasn’t so certain.
If magical beasts existed, why not restless spirits?
He set the neighbor’s gift aside and considered reciprocating.
A simple return gesture, perhaps homemade snacks seemed appropriate.
But baking wasn’t exactly his skill set.
Instead, his thoughts turned to the potions he had recently mastered.
There were recipes for both exorcising and summoning spirits.
Thanks to the old witch’s extensive collection, crafting a few protective amulets would be straightforward.
“Mugwort, garlic, lemon, and a few drops of holy water…”
The only tricky part was the holy water.
Alexander solved that by immersing his consecrated silver cross necklace in clean water.
After a few minutes, the water had absorbed enough divine power to qualify.
He crafted several amulets and set them aside.
He would deliver them to his new neighbors later as a polite housewarming gift.
His mind then shifted to something more pressing: weapons.
The shotgun had proven insufficient against the enhanced werewolf form of the witch.
It could handle regular werewolves, but stronger magical creatures like griffins, cyclops, or worse, dragons would laugh at such firepower.
Alexander refused to believe anything was unkillable.
If one gun wasn’t enough, bring more. The source of this chapter is g.com.
If guns failed, escalate.
In his view, truth ultimately rested in the range of superior firepower.
He rode his bike into the city, bought a used pickup truck, and located a somewhat shady gun shop.
With cash in hand, he cleared out a large portion of their legal inventory: pistols, shotguns, rifles, and more.
The owner looked at him strangely but happily accepted the sale.
Back home, Alexander unloaded the truck, which was practically overflowing with firearms.
He sorted them by type, then focused on the pile of pistols.
“These will be more practical for everyday use,” he muttered.
“Sacrifice.”
A flash of light consumed the dozens of handguns.
In their place, a single sleek black revolver materialized in his hand.
Elegant red spiral patterns swirled across its dark surface, giving it a dangerously alluring appearance.
Alexander narrowed his eyes as he hefted the weapon.
It felt perfectly balanced, far more potent than anything he had sacrificed.
He turned it over slowly, examining the craftsmanship.