Chapter 77: Emptying the Magazine Warning
Inside a secret surveillance room.
The hybrid leader, Deacon Frost, watched the surveillance footage.
On the screen, the Daywalker, Eric, was locked in combat with several Talon warriors.
"It looks like your men aren't capable of taking down the person I need," Frost remarked.
Sitting across from him, a judge from the Court of Owls responded calmly, "We only deployed the most basic Talons. We can send more Talon warriors and even Talon leaders. This was just a test."
The alliance between the hybrids and the Court of Owls was purely one of mutual benefit.
For Frost to complete the Blood God Ritual, he required vast amounts of human blood, pureblood vampires, and the Daywalker as a sacrifice. Only then could he summon the Blood God to possess him.
Meanwhile, the Court of Owls needed to sacrifice nine people every nine days to strengthen the connection between the Dark Multiverse and this world, while also luring Bruce into contact with Nth Metal.
When the time was right, the final step of their plan could be executed.
Of course, the Court of Owls had not revealed the full truth.
Once the Bat-God Barbatos descended, the Blood God—a lowly spectral deity—would undoubtedly be on the list for extermination.
"I don't want him dead," Frost reminded.
A dead Daywalker would mean all their efforts had been wasted, forcing them to find a new primary sacrifice.
For Frost, who was determined to overthrow the rule of the purebloods, this would only add more risk.
Since the birth of the vampire race, the pureblood aristocracy had maintained their dominion. There was no way they would sit idly by while Frost tried to overthrow them.
Even the lowest-ranking purebloods held noble titles, from baron all the way up to the thirteen vampire princes, forming the pinnacle of the vampire hierarchy.
There was, however, one exception.
Dracula, a hybrid count, had been acknowledged by the purebloods due to his unique circumstances.
But such special cases were exceedingly rare. Most hybrids remained in their original status for life.
In theory, Dracula's situation could be replicated, but the conditions were simply too harsh.
According to legend, Dracula was once a minor ruler who sought protection for his people when the Ottoman Empire invaded. Desperate, he pleaded with the Fourteenth Vampire Prince to be turned.
As it happened, that vampire prince had long grown weary of existence and willingly offered his own blood to Dracula.
Thus, the method to replicate his success was clear: capture a vampire prince and drain them completely.
In practice, this was nearly impossible.
Pureblood vampires not only possessed formidable innate abilities but also wielded vampire magic and had the power of bloodline suppression. Any hybrid attempting such a coup was doomed to fail.
…
Inside Starlight Tower.
Several first-generation hybrids fled in terror, constantly glancing over their shoulders as if some horrific presence was relentlessly pursuing them.
"Jie Jie Jie…"
A spine-chilling laugh echoed behind them.
One of them had wanted to stop and rest, but upon hearing the laughter, they immediately sprinted away again.
"Don't stop! That lunatic is still chasing us!"
"This is terrifying! I'd rather fight the Daywalker!"
"I never should've come to Gotham!"
Poof…
One of their companions was ambushed and instantly turned to ash.
The rest turned to see Allen standing there, grinning wickedly, as if relishing the thrill of the hunt.
Allen was slaughtering vampires floor by floor, exacting brutal vengeance for their persecution of humanity.
Meanwhile…
With the vampires absent, Bruce was able to assist Eric. The two quickly gained the upper hand against the Talon warriors.
"Gotham is full of freaks. These guys just won't die," Eric muttered, annoyed that his signature sunglasses had been broken in the fight.
Without them, he didn't feel as cool.
"They're the Court of Owls' undead warriors," Bruce explained. "I've captured and studied a few. Their bodies contain a special substance that keeps them from dying. The only way to stop them is to first disable them, then freeze them."
During Allen's absence, Bruce had encountered multiple Talon ambushes.
After learning his lesson the hard way, he had since prepared various countermeasures.
All the Talons he captured had been frozen and locked away in a secret section of Blackgate Prison.
"These guys are even more troublesome than vampires," Eric complained. "I'd rather fight bloodsuckers."
Against vampires, silver weapons were an instant kill.
But with Talons, even a lethal strike wouldn't stop them. After a short while, they would just get back up, which was exhausting.
Bruce threw a Batarang.
A Talon warrior failed to dodge in time, and the moment he made contact, his hand was instantly coated in frost—liquid nitrogen.
Without hesitation, the Talon severed his own arm.
Realizing that Bruce had weapons specifically designed to counter them, the Talons quickly retreated toward the windows.
One of them slashed the glass with a sword, and they all leaped into the night.
"Don't let them escape!"
Bruce fired his grappling claw toward a distant building and swung into pursuit.
Eric walked up to the window, looked down, and, judging the height to be acceptable, jumped without hesitation.
As he plummeted, his expression remained unchanged—this was routine.
Years of vampire hunting had forced him to adapt to various environments. Sometimes, pursuing prey required taking shortcuts—like jumping off buildings.
Just before impact, Eric instinctively tucked and rolled to absorb the shock.
His movements were fluid, seamless, without a single moment of hesitation.
Standing up, he dusted himself off and was about to chase after Bruce when—
Woop woop!
Police sirens blared.
Multiple squad cars surrounded him from all directions.
Officers exited their vehicles, taking cover behind the doors, guns drawn.
"Shit! Drop the damn weapon and get on the ground!" one of them shouted.
"Who the hell called the cops?" Eric grumbled, completely unfazed. He'd been mistaken for a criminal before.
Vampires often framed him for murders, forcing him to join S.H.I.E.L.D. just to gain some official status.
"Boy, don't make me empty this magazine! Do as you're told—NOW!"
In the 'land of the free,' the first lesson in police academy was simple: when dealing with a Black man, don't ask questions—just empty the damn magazine.
A shadow descended from above—it was Bruce, returning.
Seeing the police, he immediately realized there had been a misunderstanding.
After all, he was the one who called them.
"He's with me," Bruce said in a low voice.
Given Batman's reputation, the officers chose to trust him. After all, Gotham's vigilante saved them a lot of work.
"There are people in need on the fourteenth floor of the building," Bruce added.
The police moved in to rescue the homeless people who had been captured for vampire feeding.
As the officers entered the tower, Bruce turned to Eric.
"Don't take it personally."
"I'm used to it," Eric replied flatly.
If he didn't have a strong mindset, he would have given up hunting vampires long ago.
The bloodsuckers had dirtier tactics than anyone, and with secret backing from the Harbinger race, Eric would've been the most wanted man in the country if he hadn't joined S.H.I.E.L.D.
"We lost our targets. We'll need a new strategy—and an equipment upgrade," Bruce suggested.
"No problem," Eric agreed.
The vampires and the Talon army were working together. Without adapting their tactics, they'd just end up at another disadvantage.
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