Chapter Eleven: Maggots Among Men

Two days had passed since Blade had obtained his own magical power. In that time, Van Helsing had single-handedly wiped out five vampire strongholds. His tally had grown from four vampire viscounts to five viscounts, three barons, twenty-six lesser vampires, and countless blood thralls.

Indeed, the combined strength of all the vampires in those five strongholds did not compare to the trap they had set for Blade. This only confirmed Van Helsing's belief that the vampires’ power had barely increased over the past century—certainly not at a rate to match humanity’s population growth.

Inhale—exhale.

Van Helsing lit a cigar, his hands clasped behind his back as he strolled the deserted street. He had just finished scouting a location, but it was broad daylight and the emptiness of this street was immediately suspicious.

Abruptly, Van Helsing stopped dead in the center of the road.

“Come out. There’s no point hiding any longer,” he called into the surrounding shadows.

His keen hunter’s eyes picked out armed men crouching in every corner.

In a sudden rush, these humans sprang forth, encircling him.

“Tch. I expected those little bats would be the first to come for me, not a bunch of human maggots instead.”

Van Helsing’s nostrils flared as he spoke. He caught no trace of the vampires’ scent on these men, so it was safe to assume they weren’t under undead control.

“Hands above your head! I’m placing you under arrest!” barked their leader, aiming his weapon at Van Helsing with no hint of courtesy.

Van Helsing folded his arms, gazing around. His eyes glowed blue—the signature allegiance-detection of every monster hunter.

Surprisingly, each of these men was awash in a sinister red, the leader’s aura so dense it turned nearly purple.

Clearly, by the reckoning of humanity’s collective unconscious on this world, not one of these men was innocent; killing any or all would be no miscarriage of justice.

He spat the cigar onto the ground. In the next instant, Van Helsing drew the iron sword at his left hip and launched his attack.

Gunshots rang out as the agents opened fire the moment he moved.

With a whistle, a bluebird flitted above Van Helsing’s head, raising a shield of energy that deflected every bullet.

As Van Helsing plunged into their ranks, the gunfire quickly subsided. His speed was simply too great—any further shooting would only fill their own with lead.

Those who drew short blades for close combat fared even worse; an inch of reach meant an inch of advantage, and Van Helsing’s mastery of melee weapons was overwhelming. Combined with his superior arsenal, not a single agent survived a direct blow.

Soon the street was strewn with corpses. Van Helsing glanced at the carnage and sighed.

Killing vampires was easier—one surge of magic and they turned to ash, no cleanup required.

He stepped onto the chest of the fallen leader, bending down to regard the man he had left alive on purpose.

“I’ll give you one chance—make your call. Tell whoever’s behind you: Dracula and his vampires are finished. I said so, and not even Jesus could help them now.”

No sooner had he finished than the energy shield rippled—a gunshot rang out.

Van Helsing looked up. A kilometer away, a sniper lay prone on a rooftop—the shot had come from him.

With a crunch, Van Helsing stamped out the man beneath his boot, then drew his longbow. From his boot he produced a feathered arrow and nocked it to the string.

Through his scope, the sniper was baffled. Was this superhuman really going to duel him with a bow?

Questions aside, the image of Van Helsing butchering the agents like chickens spurred the sniper to pack up and reposition.

Just as he moved from cover, Van Helsing released.

A silent shot. A piercing shot.

The arrow flew faster than sound—without a whisper—through the outer wall, shattering the sniper’s skull.

With the sniper dead, Van Helsing stepped into a nearby shadow, vanishing from the sight of spy satellites and security cameras.

His stealth skills might not match those of a professional assassin, but they were more than adequate. After learning about modern surveillance, he had taken special precautions.

Meanwhile, at home, Yang Qiu drummed his fingers on the table. The moment Van Helsing was surrounded, he sensed it.

S.H.I.E.L.D. again! Were these agents like weeds, sprouting from the ground? They were everywhere and impossible to eradicate!

Unlike Van Helsing, Yang Qiu had a clearer understanding of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resourcefulness.

Blade’s secret hideout was well chosen—enough to evade vampire search parties—but once S.H.I.E.L.D. got serious, it would only be a matter of time before they were found.

After all, both men’s appetites were considerable; the traces they left buying food alone would be hard to miss.

So, aside from accelerating the plot and reducing Van Helsing’s adjustment period to this world, something had to be done to distract S.H.I.E.L.D.

The best way to divert their attention, and to help destroy the vampires, was to expose their existence to the world. Public opinion would be a headache for the agency soon enough.

But… would those activists, always clamoring for equality, really stand up for the vampires?

No—probably not. They lacked the courage for true equality. All they had was the nerve to use the cause as a pretext for profit—and plenty of nerve, at that.

As for exposing the truth online, forget it. Their grip on the internet was even tighter than offline.

So, Yang Qiu immediately changed Parker’s operational style, switching from silent assassinations to overt attacks—in short, make a scene! The bigger, the better!

The moment the order was given, an explosion rocked downtown Manhattan. Two ordinary vampires were blasted from a building by surging water, instantly incinerated as sunlight struck them.

The crowd erupted—since being turned to ash wasn’t instantaneous, the process taking more than ten seconds, even a fool could see something was wrong.

The commotion peaked when Parker emerged from the building, transformed into water, and vanished.

The same events occurred four more times in the next hour, setting Nick Fury’s phone ablaze.

Not only were there calls from the vampire front, but also from the NYPD, FBI, and other agencies.

The message was the same: Can you or can’t you keep this under control? If not, hand over the authority so they could intervene openly.