Make sure to check my Patre.on out if you want to support me and want to read advanced chapters: Patre.on.com/VQuintessence
[20 Chapters in Advance on Patre.on]
...........
Chapter 80: The World Is Cooked
...........
There was a wet, pulping SQUELCH as the skull collapsed like a rotten gourd. He discarded the dissolving body.
Ahh, god did that feel good. Adam couldn't help but smile, licking his lips.
Oh, how much he looked forward to visiting hell, so many demons there to massacre, including Mephisto. It will be orgasmic, he knows it.
He looked up. The wall was reforming. He needed space.
"Alice, ordinance!" He ordered.
From a compartment on the still-accelerating truck, a launcher emerged.
It fired a single, canister-like projectile that arced over Adam's head.
It hit the ground in the center of the vampire cluster with a dull thud. For a split second, nothing.
Then, hell.
The canister detonated not with merely fire, but with a concentrated, thermobaric pulse that superheated the air in a localized sphere.
The shockwave was visible, a shimmering distortion that flattened vampires, vaporizing the closest and hurling others like ragdolls.
The ensuing fireball was tinged with the chemical green of added oxidizers, burning even in the thin mountain air, consuming undead flesh with a hungry roar.
Before the flames died, Adam's leg thrusters ignited. He shot forward, a white-and-black comet, through the blasted, smoking gap.
His Information Vision was now his greatest weapon. It was far beyond sight; it was data. Every vampire was a book.
The tension in a calf muscle telegraphing a leap. The shift in air pressure from a creature flanking left. The minute lag in a wounded one's reaction.
Everyone. Everything was giving out information, and he could see it.
His mind processed it all in a continuous, overwhelming stream, allowing him to operate not on reflex, but on prescient reaction.
He saw the attack on Blade; a vampire trying to blindside him with a thrown dagger of bone.
A mechanical arm lashed out, swatting the projectile from the air before Blade even registered the threat.
He saw Tony, focused on a group below, fail to notice two vampires scaling the cliff face to his side, ready to spring.
A burst of hastily discharged energy from Adam's suit sought to eliminate all threats, but even when he fails, he at least disrupts them.
Just like now, giving Tony enough time to react.
Tony's repulsor beams cut them down as they fell.
They fought as a brutal, efficient triangle. Adam was the pivot, the tactical processor, and area-denial weapon.
Blade was the relentless, close-quarters butcher, a silver-tipped spearhead.
Tony was the aerial artillery, the precision scalpel, and heavy ordnance.
The road became a charnel path of epic proportions. It was less a battle and more an industrial-scale demolition of the undead.
Heads rolled, dust clouds bloomed, limbs were severed by silver or vaporized by plasma.
The air was thick with the stench of the dead, burnt meat, and the peculiar, musty odor of ancient blood turned to powder.
Adam's swordsmanship with his silver blade, guided by mechanical arms, was a brutal ballet.
He parried a necrotic broadsword, disarmed its wielder with a twist, and decapitated it in a single fluid motion.
He used an arm as a shield against a battering-ram charge, then used the same arm to impale the creature on a spike that erupted from its center.
Tony, from above, began using targeted, high-velocity silver flechettes, punching through vampire hearts with sniper-like accuracy.
When a cluster grew too thick, he dropped a miniaturized concussion charge that didn't kill them, but stunned them long enough for Blade to wade in and finish the job with sweeps of his blazing silver daggers.
Blade himself was a monument to endurance. He was covered in his own blood and the black ichor of his enemies.
A deep bite on his shoulder wept, but the Dhampir venom in his blood seemed to poison the biter as much as the bite hurt him.
He fought with a chilling, silent hate, every movement designed to end an existence. Stake, slash, decapitate. Repeat.
Finally, after an eternity of violence, the pressure broke.
The last elite vampire, a towering figure in the plate armor of a Teutonic Knight, made a final, desperate charge at Adam.
Adam met it head-on.
Two mechanical arms grabbed its massive axe-haft, holding it as he leaped back, seeking to keep as much distance as possible, but the opponent was relentless.
Yet Adam merely smiled, grinning from ear to ear, eyeing the creature with glee as if it fell into his trap.
Two more arms seized its armored limbs. The final two arms retracted their tools, the tips glowing white-hot.
They plunged into the seams of the knight's armor at the neck and armpits, spearing through decayed flesh.
The knight shuddered, then collapsed, its armor clattering empty as the body within turned to centuries-old dust.
Silence.
Not the deceptive silence from before, but a true, exhausted quiet, broken only by the ragged breathing of the three hunters and the idle whirr of the truck's engine as it rolled to a stop behind them.
Then there was a laugh. Adam laughed as one of his hands hid his eyes, basking in the beauty of war and blood.
"What a lovely day," Adam would mutter, smiling as he stretched his muscles a little, feeling totally spent.
Why does he seem so happy? Tony had to wonder. He was confused because his mind was overwhelmed.
He felt paranoid and scared of the state of this world, creatures of darkness seemingly among us all along, maybe even gods and aliens exist.
Sure, the road ahead was clear. The forest on either side was still, the malevolent crimson eyes extinguished.
The path to the mountain peak, where a darker presence waited, lay open.
But it wasn't all fine and dandy.
The cost was etched upon them. Tony's armor was a masterwork of scars and dents, one repulsor flickering fitfully.
He landed, the faceplate retracting to reveal a face slick with sweat and pale with adrenaline depletion.
Blade leaned on his sword, its tip dug into the blood-soaked earth. He was a mess of cuts and bruises that were already beginning to close too fast, a testament to his hybrid nature.
He was breathing hard, but his eyes were still fixed on the mountain peak, burning with undiminished pursuit.
He also seemed happy. It's been a while since he quenched his thirst for extinguishing the dead so much.
It was exquisite, but he is a man of few words, so he kept the passion to himself.
Only poor Tony was miserable within, feeling like the only reasonable mind among a group of lunatics.
Adam's Null suit was also battered. Two of the mechanical arms were flickering; one of them hung uselessly, its hydraulics smashed.
His own body ached from transferred impacts. The white armor, now red with blood, was stained with soot, ichor, and deep, scoring grooves.
He retracted his helmet, his white hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his heterochromatic eyes, however, scanning the aftermath with an even bigger grin.
Around them lay the testament to their passage: piles of distinctive dust, disintegrating armor, shattered weapons, and the few remains too fresh to have fully dissolved.
It was a massacre.
[HOLY. SHIT. THAT WAS THE MOST BRUTAL, BEAUTIFUL FIGHT SCENE EVER!]
[Blade is an absolute monster. He took more damage than anyone and just kept going.]
[Blade so good! Please wife me up!]
[Adam... Please don't go to the dark side. You're enjoying war too much.]
[It's inevitable, my man, just give up. Look at that smile... Yeah, he's far too gone.]
[They look completely wrecked. How are they supposed to fight DRACULA now?!]
[Worry not, my friend, we've already prepared a sacrifice. We're offering it to the first and only, Adam... He shall enjoy their blood very much.]
[Guys, am I cooked for being unsure if it's a bit or it's actually real?]
[You ain't cooked mate, the world is cooked.]
[Have you not seen it in the news? The cult that tried to sacrifice themselves for them... The world is cooked.]
[And Adam is enjoying the chaos... God help us.]
[...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...]
Adam took a deep, shuddering breath of the foul, charged air. He looked at his companions. They were roughed up.
A slow, tired, but utterly genuine smile spread across his face. "Well," He rasped, his voice low. "I must admit, I enjoy the chaos a little too much.. Hydra's fault, no doubt."
...............................
[ 1000 Power Stones For An Extra Chapter! ]
...............................