The Vampires forbidden obsession

‎A little boy stood in an open field. His clothes were clean and looked expensive. His posture was straight with a calm expression, and his black hair swayed in the wind. Behind him stood his father with a proud expression as he watched his son fire another shot at the women and men who were trying to run away. There was an electric fence up ahead so that even if he missed his shot, they wouldn't escape. Beside them stood three men watching the scene unfold quietly, their red eyes staring at the boy in awe and astonishment. It shouldn't be surprising considering he's from a long line of witch hunters, but he was too young to have perfect shots, not missing a single witch or Witcher, even as they ran haplessly, making it hard for a normal person or a lower vampire to aim. However, he was firing shots after shots as if he was used to this. ‎ ‎After killing a total of twelve witches, he handed the gun to the Butler, who stood quietly at the side. The butler was a middle-aged man by appearance; his extremely pale skin made him look like porcelain, but he was a vampire, which meant he was way older than he looked. His straight posture made him appear like a tree with human features. ‎There was a small table with bottles of alcohol and blood too, for the pure-blooded vampire. He'd been serving this family for centuries. ‎ ‎"I must say, Voss, your son is exceptional," the man standing closest to Mr. Voss praised. He had a lean physique and was dressed in expensive clothes, with silver chains and rings. "Yes, such amazing skill," the second man said; he wore black clothes made with fine materials, and his black shoes were polished enough to reflect a person's face. "With those skills, he would be unstoppable. What an amazing boy," the third man said; his hand that was resting on a cane was adorned with gold rings. His tall frame was covered in expensive clothing; the green coat he wore was the color of the forest after rain, and His blond hair was combed backwards, not a single strand out of place. They were all elite, pure-blooded vampires, and if a peasant stood next to them, they would smell the money dripping off of the men. ‎ ‎The young boy walked towards his father to stand beside him. As the men showered him with praise, he was about 9 years old; yet, he behaved like he was older than the men around him and his father. His sharp red eyes looked at the men who were buttering him up and down with praises like they were nothing but useless peasants, which didn't sit well with the men, but they couldn't complain because of who his father is. The man placed his hands on his son's head to pat him in approval, his chest swirling with pride. "I wouldn't expect anything less from Damien, he's a Voss after all and my son." "Like father, like son," the man smiled at the other men who nodded in agreement. ‎ ‎"Ah, Damien, why don't you go play with Mary inside? I'm sure she's feeling bored," said the lean man, hoping his daughter would be able to get closer to the boy, in hopes that they would get married in the future, but Damien was having none of it. "I'd rather not, Mr. Moritz. Your daughter is annoying and cackles like a witch on a broom. She'd be more useful as a decoration in your mansion, as she looks like a sore spot in ours. You should take her away as soon as possible," Damien replied. His dark red eyes stared at the man, his expression not changing. ‎ ‎ ‎