Chapter 54: "You Sing Your Song, I Take the Stage"
The next morning, Logan strolled into Stark Tower's 36th floor right on time.
Tony was hunched over the workbench tuning the shoulder cannon of the mark vii, with a smudge of black on his face. Hearing the footsteps, he didn't even raise his head. "You really know how to pick your time. You don't come early or late, appearing right at mealtime. Are you timing your visits just to scrounge a free meal?"
"You can't put it like that. I call this coming to work on time." Logan sauntered over to the liquor cabinet, expertly fished out a bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a full glass. "Besides, your lousy lab has nothing but coffee and parts. What kind of good meal could I possibly scrounge here?"
Just as he raised his glass and took a sip, the door to the lounge was gently knocked on.
Natalie Rushman's voice came through the door panel, still maintaining that gentle and professional tone. "Mr. Stark, Mr. Howlett, may I come in?"
The welding torch in Tony's hand paused. He raised an eyebrow at Logan, mouthing the words "Speak of the devil".
Logan shrugged, holding his glass as he leaned against the wall with an expression of watching a good show.
"Come in." Tony put down the welding torch, grabbed a tissue to wipe his hands, and put on a casual expression.
The door was pushed open, and Natalie walked in.
Today she was wearing a sharply tailored beige pantsuit, her curly hair draped impeccably over her shoulders. She was holding a folder in her hands, with exquisite makeup and a proper expression, looking no different from the usual slick administrative assistant.
Only Logan had sharp eyes, catching a hint of subtle alienation hidden deep within her eyes, which was different from the deliberately crafted friendliness of usual times.
"Mr. Stark, I'm here today to resign." She walked up to the workbench, gently placed the folder on the table, and spoke in a steady tone. "I have some personal matters at home that require me to return to Europe for a while. I'm afraid I won't be able to continue serving as your assistant. Thank you for your care during this time. I have already organized the work handover, and Pepper Potts has reviewed it with no issues."
Tony raised an eyebrow, reached out to flip through the folder, glanced at it twice, and tossed it back onto the table. There wasn't a trace of surprise in his tone, and he even carried a bit of relief. "Oh, resigning. Alright, no problem."
He agreed so readily that it rather seemed like he had been waiting for this day all along.
The professional smile on Natalie's face stiffened for half a second before returning to normal. "Aren't you going to ask for the specific reason?"
"What's there to ask?" Tony fake-smiled, picked up the club soda beside him, and took a gulp. "Everyone has their own ambitions; you can't be an assistant here for a lifetime. Your ability is good; if you want to come back after you're done busy back home, the position will be kept for you—of course, the probability is small, I'm just being polite."
What he said was both obnoxious and true, and Logannearby couldn't help letting out a low chuckle.
Natalie turned to look at him, a flash of helplessness crossing her eyes before returning to calm. "Mr. Howlett doesn't seem surprised at all."
"What's there to be surprised about?" Logan swirled his glass, the ice cubes clinking, "With a temper like his, not only does he hole up in the lab every day, but he also constantly stirs up trouble. How could ordinary people tolerate it? For you to last over a year is already quite impressive."
"Stop splashing dirty water on me." Tony glared at him, then looked back at Natalie and waved his hand. "Alright, you can leave once the handover is done. This month's salary will be calculated as double, considered as... severance pay? Anyway, you haven't taken little enough abuse following me."
These words were half true and half false, sounding like banter, but in reality, they left some dignity for both parties.
How clever Natalie was; she naturally heard it and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Stark. Then I won't disturb the two of you any further. Farewell."
She turned and walked away decisively, her high heels tapping crisp sounds on the floor without a shred of hesitation.
Until the door of the lounge closed again, Tony curled his lip and snorted toward the doorway. "Finally gone, swaying back and forth right under my eyelids every day. Drinking a cup of coffee made me feel like someone was watching."
"Yo, burning the bridge after crossing?" Logan walked over, leaning sideways against the workbench with a malicious smile. "Who was it that chatted cheerfully and animatedly with someone about work a while ago, and even praised Natalie for being efficient and pretty? Now that she's gone, you're turning around and putting on an act of disgust."
"I was just being polite! Polite, do you understand?" Tonystiffened his neck in rebuttal, reaching out to poke the folder on the desk. "Besides, you and I both know what her background is. She's a plant planted by S.H.I.E.L.D.; you can't really treat her like a personal assistant, right? It's good that she left; it saves me from feeling uncomfortable hiding anything in my lab."
He had long known that Natalie's identity wasn't simple. After the Afghanistan incident, S.H.I.E.L.D. made frequent moves, and planting someone in here was completely normal.
It was just that the other party had an extremely strong sense of boundaries and never crossed the line, so he simply played dumb while knowing the truth, acting it out with each other.
Logan rubbed the rim of his glass and said slowly, "That's what you say, but for someone to suddenly resign out of the blue, there must be some reason. She didn't leave during the hearings or when the Monaco incident happened, but pulls out just days after returning to New York? What major event happened over at S.H.I.E.L.D. that they're in such a rush to transfer her back?"
Tony frowned, also feeling it was somewhat fishy.
Although he wished the people from S.H.I.E.L.D. would stay far away from him, Natasha's departure was too sudden and didn't fit S.H.I.E.L.D.'s step-by-step style at all.
Just as he was about to tell Jarvis to investigate, the large screen in the lab suddenly lit up automatically, and Jarvis's voice came through:
"Sir, a military satellite footage near Karl University has just been intercepted. It's unencrypted, and its transmission range is expanding. I think you two need to take a look."
"Karl University?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "What could possibly happen over there? A student riot?"
As soon as his voice fell, the big screen switched to the video feed.
The camera shook violently, clearly filmed by a passerby using a mobile phone, with screams and sirens filling the background.
Under the gray sky, the university campus lawn had been flattened into a wasteland. Several military tanks were overturned crookedly on the roadside, their barrels twisted together like bent straws.
In the center of the screen stood a colossal green monster.
At least three meters tall, with well-defined bulging muscles, his skin was a ferocious dark green. His hair was messy against his forehead, his eyes bloodshot, he was panting heavily, and his chest was rising and falling violently.
In his hand, he was holding half of a broken streetlamp pole. With a casual toss, the pole flew out like a toothpick, smashing fiercely into the adjacent teaching building, causing a large section of the brick wall to collapse instantly.
"Holy shit..." Tony subconsciously leaned forward half a step, his eyes wide open. "What is this thing? A green Mutant? Or some monster that escaped from a lab?"
Logan also put away his flippant expression, staring at the screen and frowning.
Hulk.
Bruce Banner, that unlucky physicist screwed over by gamma rays.
This thing had boundless strength; the angrier he got, the stronger he became, and when he truly went crazy, he could tear down a whole city.
In the footage, several military vehicles drove over, and soldiers frantically fired their guns. The bullets hit Hulk like scratching an itch, leaving only tiny white marks on his skin.
Immediately following that, two armored vehicles equipped with sonic cannons aimed at Hulk and temporarily trapped him.
However, this seemed to enrage him even more. He picked up a piece of the armored vehicle debris from the ground to block the sonic cannon, spotted his timing, and threw it with all his might. The armored vehicle carrying the sonic cannon instantly split in two and exploded.
The video ended right there, freezing on the chaotic campus ruins.
The lab fell silent for a few seconds, leaving only Tony's heavy breathing.
"Fuck..." He cursed, reached out to wipe his face, and turned to look at Logan. "This thing can't even be subdued by my sonic cannons."
"It looks like he still has plenty of energy left." Logan took a sip of whiskey, suppressing the eagerness in his heart, and said slowly, "This guy relies purely on physical body, and he can get stronger the more he fights."
Tony smacked his lips, suddenly realizing something, and slapped his thigh. "No wonder Natasha suddenly resigned! So it turns out S.H.I.E.L.D. made such a huge blunder, and they were in a rush to transfer people back to handle this!"
"Otherwise what?" Logan didn't think it was all that surprising. "Did you think they had nothing better to do every day, sitting here as your administrative assistant? When a major incident happens, S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't even have the manpower to keep an eye on you anymore. Once this big green guy comes out, it'll be enough to give Fury a headache for a while."
He knew it like the back of his hand.
Just looking at the footage, this was the node where General Ross pursued Banner and let the other party escape back to New York to find Betty and Samuel.
That being said, the epic battle between Abomination and Hulk in Harlem wasn't far off either.
Natasha being transferred away at this time was nine out of ten times to go investigate and search for Banner, or take charge of the subsequent cleanup work.
"It's good that he has a headache." Tony snorted, sitting back down in his chair, though he lost the enthusiasm from earlier for tuning the armor, his eyes occasionally glancing at the big screen. "That one-eyed dragon stares at this and that every day, as if the whole World has to follow his orders. Now that a building-wrecking green monster has popped out, I want to see how he cleans up this mess."
Though his words were gloating, his eyes carried a hint of solemnity.
No matter how hard-mouthed he was, he knew very well that a guy with such astonishing destructive power wandering among civilians was definitely a ticking time bomb.
If he really ran over to New York to cause trouble one day, the trouble would be huge.
"What, worried?" Logan saw right through his thoughts and bantered, "Why don't you fly over in the mark vii and fight him? It's just the right time to test the new armor's firepower."
"Fight what fight, do I look free?" Tony rolled his eyes heavily. "I'm not S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hired muscle; this isn't my place to manage. Besides, that guy has thick skin and flesh, what if he breaks my armor? Repair costs are very expensive."
He sounded stingy, but in reality, he didn't want to get mixed up in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mess.
Ever since the palladium poisoning was resolved, he threw his heart and soul into the new element and armor upgrades, having not a shred of interest in Fury's whole'superhero team' rhetoric.
"That's true." Logan nodded, holding his glass and walking back to sit by the sofa. "Anyway, when the sky falls, the tall guys hold it up. Isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. so capable? Let them have their own headache. As for us, we should eat, drink, and just wait to watch a good show."
Although he said that, he was calculating in his heart.
Could Hulk's gamma energy be considered homologous to the x-factor? Could the system absorb it?
Of course, that was just a thought. Banner looked harmless to humans and animals, but when the Hulk inside him truly went crazy, it was no joke.
There was no need to provoke him proactively; they could deal with it if he ever caused trouble in New York one day.
Tony stood blankly in front of the workbench for a few seconds, and ultimately couldn't help instructing the air. "Jarvis, keep an eye on this matter. Send over any subsequent footage at any time; I want to see how S.H.I.E.L.D. cleans up this mess."
"Very well, sir." Jarvis responded steadily.
The lab quieted down again. Tony picked up the welding torch, but couldn't bring himself to weld for a long time, his mind filled entirely with the image of Hulk slapping a military vehicle away just moments ago.
Logan leaned back on the sofa, slowly sipping his wine. Catching a glimpse of Tony's absent-minded look out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help laughing. "Alright, stop looking, your soul's already been hooked away. If you're really interested, I'll accompany you for a spin around Karl? Consider it a publicly funded trip."
"Scram." Tony ungraciously tossed a screw nut over, which Logan caught casually. "I'm just curious, understand, curious! Besides, if I really go, I have to wait until I finish the anti-impact coating for the mark vii. Otherwise, if I really run into that big green guy, the armor will deform from a single punch."
His mouth was tough, but his tone clearly carried a hint of eagerness.
Logan smiled and didn't expose him further.
Chapter 55: The Commotion in Harlem District
In just two days, the video of the green monster at Culver University spread across the entire internet like a virus.
Social media was in an uproar; some claimed it was a failed secret experiment by the Military, others said it was a newly awakened ability of a Mutant, and even more absurdly, some claimed aliens were visiting Earth. The comment section built tens of thousands of threads, and not a single person guessed the truth.
Tony constantly had "none of my damn business" on his lips, but his body was very honest. He soaked in the laboratory for two consecutive days, thickening the chest armor of mark vii by three layers, adjusting the anti-impact coating back and forth eight times, and even boosting the power of the repulsors by twenty percent.
Logan clocked in on time every day, holding a whiskey as he leaned against the side watching Tony bustle about, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark: "Oh, didn't you say it had nothing to do with you? Adding buffs to your armor overnight like this, are you planning to become sworn brothers with the big green guy?"
"I'm just taking precautions!" Tony screwed without raising his head, the welding torch sputtering with sparks, "What if that guy goes crazy and comes to New York one day? I can't possibly go up against him bare-chested! Besides, upgrading my armor is a routine operation, what does it have to do with him in the slightest?"
"Yes, yes, yes, routine operation." Logan smiled and clinked his glass, unable to help finding it amusing. This guy was just stubborn; saying he wouldn't get involved, yet being more nervous in his heart than anyone else.
After all, if the monster that demolished buildings really rushed into Manhattan, the one who would suffer the greatest loss was none other than New York's richest man.
As it turned out, whatever you fear the most comes to pass.
On the afternoon of the third day, Logan was curled up on the lounge sofa watching entertainment news when the talk show on TV was suddenly interrupted by a breaking news broadcast.
The female anchor's voice was shaking, and the footage cut around messily—all shaky shots taken by passersby with their mobile phones. The rumbling loud noises in the background were so intense they made people's eardrums ache right through the screen.
"Viewers, an emergency has suddenly broken out in Harlem District! A gigantic yellow Mutant monster is on a rampage in the streets. The police have completely sealed off the scene, and the Military is on the way..."
Logan immediately sat up straight and looked up at the screen.
In the footage, a monster similar to the Hulk was rampaging through the streets.
Its skin was a sickening dark yellow, with jagged bone spurs growing on its back, and its facial features were twisted like a Beast. It carried half a concrete wall in its hand, casually tossing it to smash and collapse a roadside convenience store.
This guy was even crazier than the Hulk, tearing down whatever it saw, while letting out low, hoarse growls. Everywhere it passed became a ruin.
Abomination.
Logan raised an eyebrow and muttered to himself.
Emil Bronski, that eager-for-quick-success officer, had indeed injected himself with Banner's blood in Mr. Blue Samuel's laboratory, turning into this neither-human-nor-ghost appearance.
Meanwhile, Tony in the laboratory also received a push notification from Jarvis, and the large screen directly switched to the live broadcast. Looking at the rampaging Abomination on the screen, the welding torch in Tony's hand dropped onto the workbench with a "clatter," and his face darkened on the spot: "Fack! They actually dare to run to New York!"
He turned around and grabbed the armor helmet, moving so fast it kicked up wind.
"Sir, the flight stabilization system of mark vii has not finished debugging yet, and the weapon calibration is only half done. The risk of going into battle now is extremely high!" Jarvis's voice carried a rare sense of urgency.
"Risk my ass! By the time debugging is finished, Harlem District will have been torn down into flat ground!" Tonybuckled on the chest armor in a few quick motions, the mask snapping shut with a "click," "I can't just watch that monster run wild in New York City."
Just as he walked to the laboratory door, Pepper hurried in with a pale face: "Tony! You can't go! That thing is too dangerous, can't we wait for the Military to handle it?"
"Wait for the Military? By the time they arrive, half the district will be gone!" Tony waved his hand, his footsteps not stopping, "Rest assured, I know what I'm doing. I'm just going to check out the situation, I won't fight recklessly."
Even he didn't believe those words himself.
Pepper believed them even less. Watching the back of Tony rushing out of the laboratory with fire spurting from his soles, she paced anxiously in circles and instinctively pulled out her phone to dial Logan's number.
The phone rang twice before it was answered, and Logan's leisurely voice came through: "Hello, Pepper? What's wrong, did Tony cause trouble again?"
"Logan, can you make a trip to Harlem District?" Pepper's voice even carried a hint of a crying tone, "Tony went over wearing unfinished armor, and that monster is so powerful, I'm afraid something will happen to him! Help me keep an eye on him and don't let him mess around, okay?"
Logan stood by the lounge window, gazing at the thick smoke rising in the direction of Harlem District, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.
Perfect, he also wanted to test the mettle of these two gamma monsters and see if the system bought into this gamma energy thing.
"Alright." He agreed readily, "But Pepper, this trip counts as overtime right? Triple pay isn't asking too much, is it?"
"Ten times is fine! Get over there quickly!" Pepper couldn't care about money anymore; as long as he was safe, that was all that mattered.
"Got it, right there."
Logan hung up the phone and cracked his finger joints.
As the wind blew outside the window, his figure flickered in place, the teleportation activated, and he instantly disappeared from the lounge.
The teleportation span was enough to cover the entire New York urban area. In just the span of two flashes, Logan was already standing on the roof of a building by the street in Harlem District.
Directly beneath his feet was the battlefield, the roaring sounds making the roof vibrate slightly. Smoke and dust mixed with gravel floated upward, choking people and making them frown.
He looked down, and good grief, in just a few short minutes, the entire street looked like it had been bombed.
The road surface was cracked like a spider web, cars had been smashed into iron disks, and streetlights had toppled all over the place crookedly.
In the center of the area, two heavyweights were fighting fiercely.
The Hulk's muscles were tensed all over, green veins bulging on his green skin, and with a furious roar, he smashed a fist toward the Abomination.
But the Abomination clearly understood fighting better. While dodging sideways, its elbow slammed fiercely into the Hulk's chest, knocking him back several steps and crashing heavily onto a bus, caving the vehicle's body directly into a U-shape.
The Abomination grinned maliciously, its voice hoarse and ugly: "Just this bit of strength? Banner, you are nothing much either!"
He came from a Military background and had voluntarily injected the serum, so his sanity was much clearer than the Hulk's, and his moves were ruthless, aiming every strike at vital spots.
In contrast, Banner had just transformed, his anger meter hadn't maxed out yet, and for a moment he was actually being beaten down.
The crowd watching downstairs had long since fled, leaving only a few media drones hovering in mid-air. The live broadcast signal had not cut out yet, and the comments on the social platform were scrolling down like a waterfall:
"Holy crap, are these two a demolition team?! An entire street is gone!"
"The green one seems to be the one from Culver University! Where did the yellow one pop out from?"
"Where is Iron Man? Iron Man, come out and handle this!"
"Can people still live in a place like New York? Demolishing buildings last month, demolishing streets this month, are they going to demolish Manhattan next month?"
Logan squatted on the roof, biting on an unlit cigar and watching with great relish, casually providing commentary: "This guy is quite shady, aiming exclusively below the belt. Hulk is no good, his anger value hasn't risen, and his punches are all soft."
Just as he was watching intently, he heard the familiar hum of thrusters coming from afar.
A silver-red figure flew over crookedly, its flight path looking as if it were drunk. It wobbled several times before stabilizing, and with a "clatter," smashed onto the roof of a car across the street, flattening the sedan instantly.
It was precisely Tony's mark vii.
The mask lifted, and Tony poked his head out, coughing twice to cover up his disarray: "Cough cough... Jarvis, I said the stabilization system still needed adjusting, but you insisted there was no problem."
"Sir, you were the one who forced the takeoff." Jarvishonestly delivered the finishing blow.
Logan almost laughed out loud on the roof.
This guy failed to act cool upon entrance and was even blaming the artificial intelligence.
The Abomination also noticed this iron chunk that had suddenly popped out. It stopped beating the Hulk, turned its head to stare at mark vii, and grinned maliciously: "Another one here to throw away their life?"
"Throw away my life?" Tony buckled the mask on, the repulsors lighting up with a pale blue glow, "Your Grandpahere is here to send you to the afterlife."
He raised his hand and fired two repulsor blasts, the beams slamming fiercely into the Abomination's chest.
The Abomination was driven back two steps, looked down at the charred mark on its chest, and instead of getting hurt, it was provoked. With an angry roar, it charged forward.
Tony wanted to fly up to dodge, but the thrusters dropped the ball at the critical moment, sputtering a couple puffs of black smoke before going dead.
His heart skipped a beat as he watched the Abomination's sandbag-sized fist smash toward him, leaving him with no choice but to raise his hands to block it hard.
"Bang—"
With a loud crash, mark vii was directly smashed flying, crashing heavily against the wall of a nearby building. The chest armor caved inward by a large chunk, and the circuits sparked with a buzz.
"Fack!" Tony cursed, feeling his whole body vibrating, "Jarvis! Damage report!"
"Chest armor deformed by thirty percent, left arm thruster damaged, repulsor power decreased by forty percent." Jarvis's voice was as steady as if he were reciting a menu.
Tony's face turned green.
This was his new armor that he had just half-modified, and it got beaten flat just like that?
The Abomination pressed forward step by step, reaching out to grab the armor's head, intending to drag the person inside out.
Right at this moment, seven or eight twisted steel bars suddenly flew in from the side, stabbing fiercely into the Abomination's shoulders like bullets, instantly spurting dark yellow blood.
In pain, the Abomination roared and turned its head: "Who?!"
"I say, when you guys demolish buildings, can you pick a designated location by the demolition office?"
A lazy voice came from the side.
Logan leisurely jumped down from the roof, landing steadily on the ruins and dusting off his hands.
He glanced at the dented mark vii beside him, smiling and teasing: "Yo, Mr. Stark, it's only been a few minutes, and your armor has already been beaten into a tin can?"
Tony's mask lifted, revealing a face full of anger and astonishment: "Why did you come?"
"What else could it be? Your Pepper was afraid you'd play yourself to death, so she asked me to keep an eye on things." Logan cracked his wrists. With his magnetic field abilities, the scattered car parts and steel scrap fragments all slowly floated up. "Besides, with such a lively scene, what a pity it would be if I didn't come join in the fun. Just right to test how much weight these two big guys really pull."
Watching the metal fragments floating out of thin air, a flash of apprehension crossed the Abomination's eyes, but it didn't retreat. Instead, it roared angrily and charged toward Logan. It could tell that this man was even more dangerous than that iron chunk.
"Well come." Logan smiled, advancing instead of retreating.
He didn't take the opponent's punch head-on; with a slip of his feet, his figure flexibly dodged the heavy blow and smoothly circled to the Abomination's side, his right claw slashing fiercely across the opponent's waist.
With a "shrick" sound, the Adamantium was unimaginably sharp, directly cutting through the Abomination's tough skin and exposing bone deep down.
The Abomination let out a hiss of pain and swiped back with its hand.
Logan activated teleportation, vanishing on the spot. When he reappeared, he was already standing on its shoulder, his left claw poised to stab down at the back of its neck.
But the Abomination's reaction was also fast; it violently shook its head while simultaneously slamming its elbow backward.
Logan didn't take it head-on, leveraging the force to jump away, landing a few meters out, and shaking the blood off his claws.
This guy's recovery ability wasn't weak; the wounds were already slowly healing, somewhat similar to a healing factor, but far inferior.
"Hey! Don't hog all the mobs by yourself!" Tony shouted unconvinced, controlling the repulsors on his remaining right arm and firing a full-power blast right at the Abomination.
The Hulk also caught his breath, his anger value fully maxed out. Roaring, he rushed forward and smashed a fist into the Abomination's face.
For a time, two and a half against one—Tony counted as half.
No matter how formidable the Abomination was, it couldn't withstand the Hulk's brute strength, Logan's tricky sneak attacks, and Tony's long-range artillery fire. It gradually fell to a disadvantage, with more and more wounds on its body and its breathing growing heavy.
Logan fought with ease, calculating in his heart while fighting: Can the system absorb this Abomination's gamma energy? It didn't look quite the same as a Mutant's x-factor, but it was a mutated energy source nonetheless... I'll knock it down later and give it a try.
Just as he was pondering, the Abomination suddenly went crazy, recklessly smashing toward the Hulk, making it clear it wanted to drag him down together.
The Hulk was knocked back repeatedly, the two of them tearing at each other as they rolled into a roadside construction site, scattering steel rebar and concrete all over the ground.
"Damn, what a mad dog." Logan clicked his tongue, raising his hand to control a few I-beams on the construction site, thrusting them like spears down into the Abomination's limbs and temporarily nailing it to the ground.
The Abomination struggled frantically, making the I-beams hum loudly as it wrestled, on the verge of snapping them.
"Tony! Give his chest a blast!" Logan shouted.
Without a second word, Tony flew up and aimed a full-power repulsor blast straight at the Abomination's chest.
"Boom—"
Smoke and dust exploded, and the Abomination let out a miserable scream as the force of its struggle instantly weakened.
Seizing the opportunity, the Hulk flipped himself up, clenched his fists, and with all his Fury, smashed a fierce punch into the Abomination's face.
"Bang!"
With this punch full of strength, the Abomination's head tilted sideways, and it completely passed out. The muscles on its body slowly shrank, turning back into Bronski's appearance, covered in blood and half-dead.
The battle ended, and the surroundings instantly quieted down, leaving only the rustling sound of smoke and dust settling.
Panting heavily, the Hulk turned his head to look at Loganand Tony, his gaze still carrying vigilance.
He didn't recognize Tony's armor and was even more full of hostility toward Logan, a stranger.
Logan raised his hands to indicate he had no malicious intent: "Don't be nervous, we mean no harm. You do your fighting, we're just passing by to join in the fun."
The Hulk stared at him for a few seconds, seemed to determine he posed no threat, let out a low growl, turned and leaped several times, jumping onto a high-rise building and quickly disappearing into the city's skyline.
Logan didn't chase either.
He squatted down and poked the unconscious Bronski on the ground.
"No profit to be made." Logan muttered to himself.
"Hey, what are you squatting there for?" Tony dragged his half-ruined armor over, the mask lifting to reveal a face dusted with a bit of ash, "Is that guy dead?"
"Not dead, just passed out." Logan stood up and dusted the ash off his hands, "I'm telling you Tony, your armor is no good. Three minutes on stage and more than half of it is written off. Remember to calculate my overtime pay later, plus mental anguish compensation—I almost got smashed by your piece-of-junk iron hunk."
"Screw you, if I hadn't drawn the fire, could you have succeeded so easily?" Tony stubbornly retorted, looking down at his dented chest armor with his mouth twitching in heartache, "Damn it, the repair costs are going to be a few million again."
As the two of them were bantering back and forth, the roaring sound of a helicopter came from afar, and people from the Military and S.H.I.E.L.D. rushed over.
"Alright, the people from S.H.I.E.L.D. are here, let's retreat." Logan certainly didn't want to get entangled with Fury, shaking his fingers, "Want a lift?"
Tony looked at his immobilized left-leg thruster, then at the getting-closer helicopter, and gritted his teeth: "Give me a lift!"
Logan smiled, reached out to put his hand on Tony's shoulder, and with a thought, the two of them instantly vanished into the ruins.
The next second, they appeared in an alley a few streets away.
Tony's legs went weak the moment he stood steady, and he dry-heaved while supporting himself against the wall: "Fack... Can your teleportation be a bit steadier? It's even more dizzying than a roller coaster."
"If you hate the dizziness, fly back yourself." Logansneered, walking toward the alley mouth with his hands in his pockets, "Remember, triple overtime pay, and the armor repair costs have nothing to do with me. Right, report that you're safe to Pepper yourself, my mission is complete."
Tony watched his swaying back and rolled his eyes, but he wasn't really angry.
He looked down at his palms; the tremors from the battle were still lingering, but his heart actually felt a bit more settled.
At least, when real trouble hit, no matter how sarcastic this guy's mouth was, he wouldn't actually watch you get beaten up.
Chapter 56: Re-encountering Blade
After the battle in the Harlem District, New York had only quieted down for a few days before the media was still repeatedly editing mashup videos of the Hulk, Iron Man, and the "Mysterious Man". On social networks, even the topic of the three teaming up trended on hot searches, yet Logan was hiding at home, flipping through his system panel.
Looking at the scattered balance of a few hundred points on the panel, he clicked his tongue.
There were two years left until the Battle of New York, and when the Chitauri rushed over overwhelmingly, relying solely on his existing capital wouldn't make him suffer losses, but it was still not secure enough.
Although the Crimson Power had strengthened his physical body and his magnetic field was stable at the Alpha-level, his teleportation was still stuck at the gamma-level, and his airflow control was merely at the Epsilon-class. If he truly encountered a large-scale legion battle, both his endurance and mobility would fall a bit short.
After much deliberation, he decided to make another trip to San Francisco.
The last time he went, he had accumulated over 2,000 points and also met Blade.
This time, he didn't know what he would encounter.
After saying goodbye to Tony, Logan chose to set off that very day.
Before teleportation was upgraded, crossing states required two transfers, and although it hadn't reached the Beta-class yet, crossing most of the United States didn't take much effort anymore.
After a few flashes, he was already standing at the alley entrance of San Francisco's Chinatown. The night was just right, the neon lights on the street dazzled people's eyes, and the air drifted with a faint scent of blood and decay—the typical smell of a Vampire den.
He found a famous local underground dark club. It was said that the boss was an old Vampire converted a hundred and eighty years ago, specializing in keeping newborn whelps and secretly running a blood bag business.
Logan had a cigar in his mouth and swaggered inward. The two door-guarding Vampires at the entrance just wanted to stop him when their necks were twisted by his magnetic field, silently going limp.
The club was foul-smelling and chaotic, with heavy metal music shaking the floor. Men and women twitched and twisted in the dance floor, their eye sockets all carrying an abnormal paleness and bloodlust.
Logan scanned the surroundings. Goodness gracious, there were at least forty or fifty newborn Vampires, plus a few backbone members converted for quite a few years; gathered together, they were just a wave of experience points.
He didn't talk nonsense either. The steel claws at his fingertips popped out with a'shr-la' sound, and his figure flickered right into the crowd.
Teleportation activated, afterimages flashed out into several paths in the dance floor, and every flash of an afterimage was accompanied by a muffled grunt and a splatter of blood.
The newborn Vampires reacted slowly; before they even saw clearly where the person was, their throats were slashed open by the steel claws, and after convulsing twice on the ground, they turned into flying ash.
A few quick-reacting ones picked up wine bottles and steel pipes to smash over. Logan didn't even lift his eyelids; with a turn of his magnetic field, all metal objects hung suspended in mid-air, and following a flick of his fingertip, they flew back like bullets, instantly knocking down a whole area in a row.
"Just this little ability?" Logan sneered, gathering airflow into a grayish-white wind blade at his fingertips. With a casual wave, the half-meter-long wind blade directly swept and snapped three load-bearing pillars, and the ceiling clattered down with falling dust, smashing out several Vampires hiding behind the bar.
The entire battle didn't even take half an hour, and in the club, there were only scattered pieces all over the floor and a faint burnt smell left.
The system notification tones kept ringing ding-dong endlessly, and Logan glanced at the panel.
Goodness gracious, a single wave farmed close to twelve hundred points, which was even more efficient than dealing with Raiders.
Following the clues, he scouted out three more dens: an abandoned slaughterhouse, a dock cold storage, and an old suburban church. Sweeping across all the way horizontally, the Vampires cried to their fathers and mothers with nowhere to hide.
In less than two days' time, the points on the system panel jumped to over 2,100.
"Almost there." Logan found a motel to rest his feet, clicked open the upgrade panel, and first added a level to teleportation, jumping directly from the gamma-level to the Beta-class.
A warm current flowed through his entire body along his meridians. He could clearly feel that the coverage range of teleportation had directly increased from the previous cross-state level to a cross-country level, and its spatial stability was more than twice as strong. In the future, teleporting people wouldn't make Tony retch from shaking like before.
He also gave a portion of the points to airflow control, similarly upgrading it to the Beta-class.
With a twitch of his fingertips, the swirling airflow could already easily create a small tornado. Whether relying on himself to fly, dragging large objects, or carrying out attacks, it was completely sufficient.
"Not bad, barely enough." Logan flexed his fingers, leaving the remaining few hundred odd points untouched as an emergency reserve.
While he farmed happily over here, he completely poked a hornet's nest for the underground Vampire forces in San Francisco.
These newborn Vampires basically all answered to Deacon Frost.
This leader of the transformation faction managed to eke out a living in the hands of the Pure-Blood Council by being ruthless. On the surface, he took orders from those old-fashioned pure-bloods, but in secret, he had long been harboring thoughts of betrayal.
He spent several years collecting the Vampire Bible, just waiting to gather manpower, finish translating the scriptures, and hold the Blood God ritual to overturn the rule of the Pure-Blood Council in one fell swoop.
As a result, just as the ritual preparations reached a critical moment, the newborn whelps under his command were inexplicably slaughtered by more than half, and even three peripheral strongholds were wiped out completely clean, leaving not even a bit of ash.
When Deacon received the news, he was in an old warehouse checking the Bible translation with his confidant, Pearl, and smashed the glass wine glass in his hand to pieces on the spot.
That Pearl was a Vampire so fat he could barely move his nest. Piled in a wide leather chair, his fat flesh was stacked layer upon layer, his fingers were as thick as radishes, and he had to use special tweezers to turn pages.
He had a quick mind and understood ancient scripts. He was the precious darling Deacon specifically dug up to translate the Vampire Bible. Normally, he didn't even need to walk, and going out relied entirely on being carried by four of Deacon's subordinates.
"Trash! A bunch of trash!" Deacon's expression was so gloomy that water could drip from it, his fangs clicking as he bit down. "You can't even find out who did it? Dozens of people, and they vanished just like that?"
Pearl breathed heavily, laboriously turning a page of the scripture, his voice muffled: "The opponent acted too fast, leaving no survivors at the scene. Judging by the method... it doesn't look like Blade's style; it's cleaner and more eerie. Some surviving soldiers who escaped said they saw people disappear out of thin air, and metal flying on its own."
"No matter who he is, whoever dares to ruin my good deed must die." Deacon sneered, already having a plan in mind. "Since he likes wiping out dens, let's leave him a big one. Transfer all remaining manpower to the abandoned shipyard at the docks, set up traps, and bring all the weapons. I want to see just what kind of deity dares to run amok on my turf."
He calculated a brilliant plan—catching turtles in a jar. Once the hunter broke in and all mechanisms fired simultaneously, even if Blade came, he would still be stripped of a layer of skin.
When Logan tracked the clues to the shipyard the next day, he indeed sensed something was wrong.
The guards at the entrance were sparse, and the auras inside were mixed, plainly making it a trap.
Yet he didn't take it to heart at all. A bunch of nocturnal animals that couldn't see the light of day—could they possibly flip the heavens over? It was just right to wipe them out in one pot and gather a few more odd points.
Just as he walked to the factory gate, he heard extremely light footsteps coming from behind a container next to him.
The footsteps were very steady, carrying the scent of leather and gun oil, along with a faint trace of Vampireaura, yet mixed with the warmth of a living person.
Logan raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look over.
A man walked out from the shadows, dressed in a black leather trench coat, wearing sunglasses, with two pistols strapped to his waist and a long sword of peculiar design carried on his back. His skin was dark.
It was none other than Blade.
Their eyes met, and both paused for half a second.
Last time hunting in San Francisco, they had met by chance, and back then they also conveniently teamed up to clean out a stronghold, which could be considered an acquaintance.
"Yo." Logan spoke first, smiling with a cigar in his mouth, "What a coincidence? You chased over here too?"
Blade nodded slightly, his voice as low and raspy as ever: "Deacon's men ran this way."
He scanned Logan up and down, his brows furrowing imperceptibly, "Those dens... were you the one who wiped them out?"
"Ah, nothing better to do, just stretching my muscles." Logan shrugged, lifting his chin to indicate the inside of the factory area, "There are traps inside, clearly waiting for us to drill in. Together? Saves you the trouble of doing it alone."
Blade didn't speak, drawing the long sword from his back, which counted as tacit consent.
He had dealt with Logan once before and knew this guy's methods were eerie. Having an extra helper was never a bad thing, especially under the circumstance where Deacon had obviously set an ambush.
The two walked inward side by side, too lazy to even use the gate; Logan directly twisted open the heavy lock on the side door using his magnetic field.
As soon as they stepped into the factory courtyard, the ultraviolet lamps overhead suddenly all lit up, and dazzling white light shone down overwhelmingly. The surrounding sheet metal reflected the light, resembling a giant oven.
"Ultraviolet trap." Blade frowned, raising his hand to block his face.
Ordinary Vampires would turn to ash after being irradiated for a few minutes; although he was a half-Vampire, being irradiated for too long would also make his whole body hot and uncomfortable.
Yet Logan acted like nothing was wrong, standing under the intense light without even narrowing his eyes.
He lifted his finger and activated his magnetic field. The wiring of the ultraviolet lamps overhead instantly hissed and smoked with black smoke, and with consecutive "bang bang bang" explosions, they were completely blown out, plunging the factory area back into dimness instantly.
"Just this?" Logan curled his lip uninterestingly, "I thought there would be something fresh, but it turns out to be just this little trick."
Blade was stunned for a moment, then withdrew his gaze and gripped the long sword in his hand tighter.
Just at this moment, densely packed Vampires poured out from behind the surrounding containers, numbering at least a hundred. Every single one of them bared their fangs, held submachine guns, and rushed up howling.
At the windows of the second floor, a few holding sniper rifles also popped out, raising their guns to shoot right at the two.
"Watch out for bullets!" Blade reminded, his figure already dashing out.
The long sword danced so impenetrably in his hand that bullets approaching were split in two, and the Vampires getting close were dealt with one by one per sword swing, their heads sent flying as they turned into flying ash.
His movements were crisp and neat, every strike fatal without the slightest superfluous movement. At a glance, he was an old hand who had spent half his life killing Vampires.
Logan's side was much more effortless and graceful.
He stood in place without moving; all incoming bullets were blocked by the magnetic field half a meter away from him, hanging motionless in mid-air. Then, with a turn of his fingertips, they flew back neatly in unison, instantly knocking down a whole section.
For the death-defying Vampires rushing up close, he either teleported away and slashed their throats with a backhanded claw, or casually tossed out an airflow wind blade, directly cutting them and their weapons into pieces.
The two of them—one engaging in close-quarters melee rushing and the other performing stationary output—cleared out the hundreds of Vampires by seven or eight parts in just over ten minutes, leaving only ashes and cut fragments all over the ground.
"The efficiency is not bad." Logan shook off the ash on his claws and looked up at the innermost control room on the second floor.
There was still someone with a slightly stronger aura hiding there, presumably the minor boss Deacon left behind to hold down the fort.
His figure flickered, and he teleported directly into the control room, lifting that Vampire boss like a chick and tossing him with a 'clatter' in front of Blade.
This boss had a broken arm, trembling all over with fright, yet his mouth still stubbornly uttered fierce words: "You dare touch me? My Lord Frost will not let you go! When the ritual succeeds, you'll all die!"
"Ritual? What ritual?" Blade frowned. He had been tracking Deacon for so long and only knew the other party was up to some major movement, but he had never found out what it specifically was.
That Vampire stuck his neck out, putting on an unyielding look, refusing to say a single extra word.
Logan couldn't be bothered to dawdle with him, yawning: "Quite a stubborn mouth. Fine, I'll help you loosen it up."
As he spoke, he stretched out his finger, not touching the other's forehead, just pointing vaguely, and a mental illusion silently drilled into the other's mind.
He was familiar with this trick; it wasn't direct mind-reading, but rather messing up the other's consciousness, magnifying fear, and then guiding along the conversation to make the other foolishly spill all their secrets themselves.
Sure enough, in less than two seconds, the Vampire's eyes became unfocused, a look of fear appeared on his face, and he began to mutter incoherently:
"Don't... don't kill me... I'll talk... It's My Lord Frost... My LordFrost is going to hold a ritual... the Blood God ritual..."
"The Bible... there is the Vampire Bible... Pearl is translating it... he understands ancient texts..."
"Three days later... the suburban castle... going to capture twelve pure-blood Elders as sacrifices... once the Blood God is achieved... won't be afraid of sunlight or silver anymore..."
He chattered incessantly, spilling everything from where Deacon hid the Bible to what kind of blood bags Pearl usually liked to eat. Logan listened and frowned straight away, thinking to himself that this Vampire had quite a wagging tongue.
The more Blade listened, the more gloomy his expression became.
The Blood God ritual sounded unfamiliar to him, but the words "won't be afraid of sunlight or silver" were somewhat startling.
If Deacon really managed to pull it off, let alone San Francisco, the Vampires along the entire West Coast would turn the world upside down.
"Whistler should know about this ritual," Blade said in a deep voice, turning around to leave. "I have to go find him and ask clearly how to disrupt it."
"Sure, go ahead with yours." Logan leaned against a nearby pillar, with no intention of following, and waved his hand. "I won't join in the bustle on your side; I have my own way to deal with him."
Blade's footsteps paused, and he glanced back at him.
He couldn't figure out Logan's bottom line, but he knew this person had many tricks. Since he said he had a way, it wasn't just idle boasting.
He didn't ask much more, just nodded slightly as a farewell, and quickly disappeared at the factory gate.
Logan watched the direction he left, a trace of playfulness flashing in his eyes.
How could the Blood God ritual possibly succeed without this Blade? If he himself meddled in, how would Deacon still complete the ritual?
He also wanted to see if this Blood God could be absorbed as well.
Chapter 57 Blood Manipulation
After leaving the shipyard, Blade did not dare to delay much and rushed to Whistler's safe house overnight.
The old man's stronghold was hidden in a scrapyard in the suburbs of San Francisco, very covertly, and usually not even a fly could fly in.
But when he climbed over the wire fence and sneaked in, the room was already empty, tools were scattered all over the floor, the welding torch was still powered on, half a cup of coffee was left on the table, and the residual heat had not dissipated—people had been taken away in a hurry.
A crooked bat symbol was drawn on the wall with blood, and a line of words was left below: "Want to save the old man, come to Black Stone Castle."
Blade clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning White.
Of course he knew this was a trap, and Deacon was clearly digging a pit waiting for him to jump in.
But Whistler was his adoptive father, the one who pulled him out of a pile of dead bodies and taught him how to kill Vampires. Even if it were a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, he could not possibly not go.
He checked his firearms and ammunition, tucked UV bullets and garlic concentrate into his bosom, polished his long sword until it was bright, and taking advantage of the moonlight in the second half of the night, he went alone to the Black Stone Castle in the suburbs.
The castle was built on the mountainside, abandoned for hundreds of years, its outer walls covered with vines, and its spire resembling a crouching monster in the night.
Blade climbed in from the side wall, and the corridor was frighteningly quiet, without even the sound of the wind, only the soft echo of his own footsteps.
Something is wrong.
As soon as he stopped his footsteps, a large area of strong UV light suddenly poured down from above, dense UV lamps popped out from the surrounding walls, and the entire corridor instantly lit up like White-day.
Blade let out a muffled groan, his skin hurting as if burned by Fire, and the half-Vampire constitution kept him from turning directly into ashes, but it also made his whole body limp and his strength drain away rapidly.
"I have been waiting for you for a long time, Daywalker."
Laughter came from the end of the corridor, and Deacon, wearing a black formal suit, slowly walked out clapping his hands, followed by a dozen fully armed Vampires.
"That old man Whistler is really useful; leaving just a few clues, and you obediently delivered yourself to your doorstep."
Blade gritted his teeth and wanted to draw his gun, but as soon as he raised his arm, he was pinned against the wall by the rushing Vampire.
Specially made binding straps tied his wrists, soaked with aconite inside, and numbness drilled through his skin into his bones, and even his long sword was unloaded.
"Don't waste your effort." Deacon walked up to him, reached out and patted his face, his tone carrying undisguised smugness, "You are the highlight today, all twelve pure-blood Elders are in place, and only you are missing as this final tribute. With the Blood God's descent, you have made a contribution."
Blade stared at him dead-eyed, his gaze as cold as ice, not saying half a word.
When he was dragged towards the castle hall, he was still calculating in his heart how to escape and how to save Whistler.
But when the heavy doors of the hall slammed open and he saw the scene inside, his habitually steady heartbeat still missed a beat.
Twelve pure-blood Elders wearing black robes were tied to stone pillars, each with a pale complexion, obviously having their abilities sealed.
And on the soft chair next to the main seat sat a woman.
The woman wore a dark red long dress, with a pale complexion and gorgeous looks, looking only a little over thirty, but her brows and eyes were seventy percent similar to his.
She held a cup of blood wine between her fingertips, shaking it slowly, and seeing him being escorted in, she didn't even lift her eyelids.
Blade's breathing suddenly stopped.
Vanessa Brooks.
His mother.
He had been told since childhood that his mother died when she gave birth to him, bitten to death by a Vampire.
Over the years, he had killed so many Vampires, half to survive and half to avenge his mother.
But now, the person he thought had been dead for decades was sitting alive in front of him, still looking like a Vampire.
"What? Don't you recognize me?" Vanessa finally raised her head, looked at him and smiled, with no warmth in her smile, "I thought you would be a bit excited when you saw me."
"You..." Blade's voice was a bit hoarse, "You're not dead?"
"Dead?" Vanessa sneered, put down the wine glass and stood up, walked in front of him, looked him up and down, her eyes carrying undisguised disgust, "Back then I was pregnant with you and got bitten, everyone thought I wouldn't survive. It was Deacon who saved me and helped me complete the transformation. If it weren't to give birth to a half-human, half-ghost thing like you, why would I have been hiding for decades?"
Her words were like ice picks, piercing Blade's heart word by word.
"Why do you think I willingly stay by Deacon's side?" Vanessa raised her hand, her fingertips gently brushing across his cheek, the tips of her nails gleaming with cold light, "When the Blood God ritual is completed, Deacon will lead us to overthrow the Pure-blood Council, and we will no longer need to hide in the darkness where we cannot see the light. As for you... my good son, you will obediently be the sacrifice, which can be considered of some final use."
The hand hanging by Blade's side clenched tightly, his knuckles trembling.
He had killed Vampires for more than twenty years, accustomed to betrayal and lies, and had long thought his heart was as hard as iron.
But when his biological mother stood before him, saying to his face that he was a burden and that she wanted to sacrifice him, his chest still felt like it was hit by a heavy hammer, so stuffy that he couldn't breathe.
Deacon watched from the side and laughed loudly, wrapping his arm around Vanessa's waist proudly, "How is it, Brooks? Is this surprise enough? If you want to blame someone, blame your good fate, a natural Daywalker, naturally the key to becoming a god."
As he spoke, he waved his hand and said in a deep voice, "The ritual begins!"
Dark red runes lit up simultaneously on the twelve stone pillars, and the pure-blood Elders tied to them let out painful roars.
Their bodies withered at a speed visible to the naked eye, flesh and bones twisted and deformed, and finally turned into twelve skeletons with bone wings, circling and flying around the altar in the center of the hall, making sharp screeches.
Vanessa picked up a silver dagger—she obviously took special precautions, wrapping her fingertips in thick leather gloves—pulled Blade's wrist, and slashed down without hesitation.
Dark red blood gushed out and dripped into the stone bowl in the center of the altar.
Blade's wrist was pinned down tightly, unable even to struggle, and he could only watch helplessly as his blood and the energy of the twelve Elders converged together, forming a churning sea of blood mist.
The twelve winged skeletons let out a final screech, and suddenly swooped down, plunging headfirst into the blood mist.
The blood mist surged instantly, carrying majestic power, and rushed toward Deacon.
Deacon spread his arms and raised his head, letting out a gratifying roar. The blood mist drilled into his body through his seven orifices, and his body grew stronger at a speed visible to the naked eye. Dark red lines appeared on the surface of his skin, his fangs grew longer, his nails became as sharp as knives, and in his eyes that originally feared sunlight, there was now only frantic excitement.
"Power... This is the power of the Blood God!"
He clenched his fists tightly, the surrounding air trembled along with it, and the floor tiles of the hall cracked with dense lines.
He looked down at his hands, feeling the churning and seemingly endless power inside his body, and laughed out loud.
"From now on, I am a god! Sunlight cannot kill me, silver cannot hurt me! What is the Pure-blood Council? What are humans? The entire World must grovel at my feet!"
He turned his head proudly, wanting to look at Blade on the altar, but when his gaze swept across the corner of the hall, he suddenly stopped.
I don't know when, but an extra person appeared in the Shadow of the hall.
The man was holding a lit cigar in his mouth, leaning against a stone pillar, with his hands in his pockets, looking at him lazily, his eyes carrying a bit of playful amusement at watching a show, and a bit of undisguised disgust.
It was none other than Logan.
"Shouting so loudly, anyone who didn't know would think you won five million in the lottery." Logan straightened up, patted the non-existent dust on his clothes, and walked over slowly, "I said, your pomp for becoming a god is too shabby, right? Twelve skeleton frames plus a bowl of blood, and you dare call yourself a god?"
The smile on Deacon's face instantly froze, and his eyes turned gloomy: "It's you! You are the one who wiped out my three strongholds!"
"Yo, you can still recognize me?" Logan laughed heartily, lifted his chin, "Not easy at all, I thought your brain grew all in your muscles. Thanks for running around busily making such a big formation, helping me gather all the power so I don't have to look for them one by one."
Hearing these words, Deacon was stunned, and then flew into a rage: "Arrogant! What kind of thing do you think you are? How dare you talk to me like this! I am now the Blood God! Crushing you to death is easier than crushing an ant!"
As he spoke, he suddenly raised his hand, and an arrow of blood shot out from his fingertips, carrying the sound of breaking through the air, heading straight for Logan's face.
The arrow of blood was extremely fast, and along the way even the air was corroded with a sizzling sound.
"Just this little ability?"
Logan smiled, his figure flickered, teleportation activated, leaving only a residual Shadow in place.
The blood arrow missed, hitting the stone pillar, and directly corroded a fist-sized pit out of it.
The next second, Logan had already appeared on Deacon's side, his right fist wrapped in crimson power, carrying the force of ten thousand pounds, fiercely smashing into Deacon's face.
"Bang—"
Deacon's entire body flew out like a cannonball, heavily crashing into the stone wall. A section of the stone wall directly collapsed, and gravel fell down rustlingly.
"Cough..." Deacon crawled out from the ruins, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, his eyes full of disbelief, "Impossible! I am the Blood God! How can you possibly hurt me!"
"Blood God?" Logan looked disdainful, his fingers gathering airflow to condense into a grayish-white wind blade exuding a sharp aura, "With your half-baked level, you deserve to be called a god?"
With a casual flick of his hand, the airflow wind blade shot out with a sharpness that made the skin sting.
Deacon hurriedly dodged, but the wind blade seemed to have grown eyes, brushing past his shoulder and instantly cutting out a bone-deep wound, making him gasp a breath of cold air in pain.
"Can you dodge it?"
Logan's voice sounded from behind.
Deacon was startled in his heart, and just as he wanted to turn around, he felt a huge suction force coming from behind.
The magnetic field was fully activated, and the metal accessories on Deacon's body, and even the metal impurities in his bones, were pulled backwards, and his entire body flew backward out of control.
Logan reached out and grabbed his neck, lifting him up like a little chicken, his fingertips slightly popping out steel claws against his heart.
"Weren't you quite crazy just now? Still ruling the World?" Logan shook his head, his tone carrying a bit of boredom, "With this strength intensity, it's not even as beat-resistant as Red Tank that iron turtle. I thought the Blood God was how awesome, turns out to be just a showy framework."
Deacon was choked so he couldn't breathe, his face flushed red, and his eyes were full of fear and unwillingness.
He desperately urged the blood power in his body, wanting to counterattack, but the speed of his wound healing became slower and slower. The power on Logan's claws seemed to be able to suppress his regenerative ability, causing a heart-piercing pain.
He was finally afraid.
From the ecstasy of the ritual's success to the despair of being unilaterally crushed, it was only a few minutes before and after.
In front of the man in front of him, the Blood God power he was proud of didn't even have room to fight back.
"You... what kind of monster are you anyway..." Deacon squeezed out a few words with difficulty.
"Monster?" Logan smiled, "You made such a big commotion making a ritual, someone has to come and clean up the mess. Rest assured, I will graciously accept this power of yours, which can be considered not making you busy in vain."
As the words fell, the steel claws pierced fiercely into Deacon's heart.
Deacon's eyes widened sharply, his body twitched twice, and soon there was no more movement.
The Blood God energy in his body hadn't had time to dissipate before it was trapped by the system all at once.
On the other side, the binding straps binding Blade had long been shaken loose by the Impact just now.
Blade broke free from the bindings, picked up the long sword on the ground, and turned to look at Vanessa not far away.
Vanessa's complexion turned White, but she still forced a sneer: "What? You still want to kill me? I am your mother!"
The hand holding the knife tightened, his face had no expression, but his eyes were bone-chillingly cold.
"You are not my mother." His voice was hoarse, yet exceptionally firm, "My mother died long ago."
As the words fell, the blade flashed.
The smile on Vanessa's face froze, she looked down at the long sword in her chest, her body swayed, she fell down, and soon turned into flying ash.
Blade put his sword back into its sheath, stood with his back to the altar for a few seconds, his shoulders slightly tense, yet he didn't look back.
Logan didn't pay attention to him, squatted down and poked Deacon's corpse, and a system prompt popped up in his mind:
'Detected enemy drop x-factor upon kill, would you like to absorb it?'
Logan touched his chin with a thoughtful look.
This guy looked like a rookie who had just entered the Alpha-level, probably didn't have many points, so it's better to absorb the ability directly.
"Absorb it." He muttered in his heart, "Just in time to see what this so-called Blood God actually has in terms of substance."
The moment he chose to absorb, a warm energy gushed out from the corpse, drilling into his body along his fingertips.
The warm current circulated around his meridians for a circle, and finally settled deep in his bloodline, and the system prompt sound followed:
'Acquired ability: Blood Manipulation, potential: Alpha-level, current level: Epsilon-class.'
'Ability description: Can manipulate one's own or others' blood, ability strength increases with level elevation.'
Logan felt the new ability in his body and raised an eyebrow.
Alpha-level potential, barely passable.
Blood Manipulation sounds okay, except there are not many places where it can be used normally, and the regeneration enhancement is better than nothing; his own self-healing was already strong enough.
"Passable." He stood up, clapped his hands, feeling a bit unenthusiastic.
He originally thought the Blood God could pull out some good things, but it turned out to be just like that, not even as big an improvement as the crimson ruby from Red Tank.
The hall was a mess, the twelve Elders had long turned to ashes, and Deacon's corpse slowly began to wither.
Blade had already walked to the door at some point, standing with his back to him, his Shadow appearing exceptionally lonely and cold in the night.
"Whistler is not here." Blade spoke without turning his head back, his voice low, "Deacon just used him as a bait."
"Yeah, he was probably moved long ago." Logan walked over with a cigar in his mouth, "What do you plan to do? Keep looking?"
Blade didn't speak, just nodded slightly as a response.
He was silent for a few seconds, and finally turned his head sideways, glanced at Logan, and spat out two words in a deep voice: "Thanks."
After speaking, he carried his sword, turned around and walked into the night, quickly disappearing into the mountain forest.
Logan didn't detain him either, leaning against the door of the castle, watching his back disappear, shaking his head with a smile.
He lowered his head and glanced at the system panel. Counting the mobs he farmed earlier, this trip accumulated nearly a thousand points again, and he also got Blood Manipulation for free, so it wasn't a wasted trip.