Regarding the Blood Coven's true situation, the scope and scale of the threat they represented, Blade shared the intelligence and information he'd painstakingly gathered over weeks of investigation with Nolan.
After decades of careful planning and systematic cultivation by the cult's leadership, their believers now numbered approximately five hundred thousand souls. The figure struck with terrible weight.
This represented close to nearly half the entire population of the sprawling slums, an almost incomprehensible penetration into the civilian base.
Furthermore, there existed as many as sixty-six sect priests who controlled ancient blood magic and possessed genuinely immortal bodies. Not enhanced healing or extreme durability, but actual inability to die through conventional means.
If one added the numerous fanatic believers who also possessed immortal flesh through rituals and blood sacrifice, though to lesser degrees than the priests, the total number became essentially incalculable. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, scattered throughout the slums.
According to Blade's experience hunting supernatural monsters across decades of bloody work, those atavistic vampires represented the Blood Coven's final evolutionary stage. The ultimate transformation, the apex of their dark practices.
They were also the materialized totem of the cult's beliefs, faith made flesh and fang.
In other words, once the power controlled and channeled by the priests exceeded a certain critical threshold, crossed some invisible line of accumulated strength, they would undergo metamorphosis. They would become genuine vampires, supernatural predators.
More specifically, they became the most powerful monsters, approaching the legendary progenitors in capability. Ancient, terrible things that shouldn't exist in the modern world.
These creatures were basically immune to sunlight, their flesh no longer vulnerable to solar radiation. Silverware proved ineffective, the metal's legendary properties meaningless against them. Even garlic juice, the most folkloric of vampire deterrents, produced no reaction whatsoever.
They were absolutely nothing like the extremely fragile vampires depicted in popular legends and fiction. Those myths bore no resemblance to reality.
Nolan, maintaining an expressionless face throughout Blade's entire detailed explanation, processed each terrible fact with cold calculation. When the vampire hunter finally finished speaking, Nolan nodded once with sharp precision.
He turned smoothly, moving toward David and Jessica's position with purposeful strides. Each mag-boot impact announced his approach.
"David, what is Jessica's current injury status?" Nolan looked down at Jessica lying on the ground, her body appearing small and fragile in the dim lighting.
He stared at her closed eyes and the pale white face that had become almost transparent, skin taking on a waxy quality that suggested severe blood loss. His voice emerged low through the vox-grille, concern buried beneath tactical assessment.
"Multiple bones throughout her body have sustained fractures. Several internal organs and significant soft tissue areas show severe bruising and trauma. There are numerous bleeding points that her healing factor is actively addressing." David, who had been crouching over Jessica conducting detailed scans, raised its metal head slightly to meet Nolan's gaze.
The Man of Iron continued its medical report with clinical precision.
"Although the above injuries prove serious, none are immediately fatal in isolation. As long as they receive proper treatment and support, her survival presents no significant challenge."
David paused, optical sensors flashing as it processed additional data.
"However, Miss Jessica needs to receive comprehensive medical intervention as soon as possible. Every minute of delay increases the risk of her injuries worsening or developing complications. More critically, if the fractured bone segments cannot be properly reset and aligned before her healing factor completes its work, the accelerated regeneration will become a burden and permanent limitation. Bones will heal in wrong positions, requiring re-breaking."
Upon hearing David's assessment and the implicit time pressure, Nolan's expression hardened.
He picked up the blue metal helmet that had been tucked securely under one thick arm and slowly placed it on his head. Seals engaged with soft hisses, the helmet locking into position.
"Escort Jessica out of here immediately. Extraction is now top priority." Nolan's low voice echoed within the confined hidden space, carrying absolute authority. "As for the Blood Coven, we will have plenty of time to play with them later. They're not going anywhere."
The statement emerged with cold promise, threat implicit in every word.
The next moment, five automatic servo robots responded to commands transmitted from David. They moved with synchronized precision, mechanical tentacles extending from retracted positions within their shells.
The appendages uncurled and reached toward Jessica with surprising gentleness, given their industrial construction.
Then the mechanical tentacles gradually wrapped around Jessica's injured body, the metal carefully avoiding pressure points while providing comprehensive support. The configuration temporarily served dual purposes: a mobile stretcher for transport and improvised fracture stabilization devices to prevent further damage during movement.
At that moment, perhaps responding to the activity surrounding her, or perhaps driven by pain signals finally penetrating her unconscious state, Jessica stirred.
She had been in a deep coma, her body shutting down non-essential functions to focus energy on healing. Now she slowly opened heavy eyelids, the motion requiring tremendous effort.
Her eyes rolled blankly several times, pupils struggling to focus. When her hazy vision finally resolved enough to identify the metal skull head of David leaning over her, recognition sparked.
Jessica's pale face managed a weak smile despite everything, lips barely curving upward. The expression cost her visible effort.
"Hello, David," she whispered, the words emerging barely audible.
"You would be well-advised not to move, Miss Jessica." David shook its metal head gently, the gesture surprisingly human-like in its concern. "Physical motion will aggravate your injuries and potentially displace healing bone fragments."
The mechanical voice somehow managed to sound comforting despite its synthesized nature.
"Uh, sorry, boss. I'm in trouble again." Jessica's gaze shifted, finding Nolan standing nearby in his blue power armor. Her weak smile took on notes of embarrassment and shame. She'd failed, needed rescue, proven inadequate to the mission.
Wearing his sealed metal helmet that concealed all reaction, Nolan turned his head to regard her fully. The visor's blank surface revealed nothing, but his attention focused completely on his injured apprentice.
A faint snort emerged from inside the helmet, the sound carrying both exasperation and relief in equal measure.
"Hmph. Jessica, your right to take personal leave has been revoked effective immediately. Before you complete proper Battle Sister training to my satisfaction, you will not be permitted to leave the base."
His tone shifted, growing colder and more terrible.
"However, don't worry about the Blood Coven. Every member who hurt you will die. I will not leave a single one alive. Complete eradication, roots torn out and burned."
The promise carried absolute certainty, death sentence already passed and awaiting only execution.
Accompanied by the heavy, rhythmic sound of mag-boots striking ground, each impact producing distinctive metallic rings, the extraction began.
Nolan walked at the front of the entire formation, Warscythe gripped in one armored palm. He drove his power armor forward with measured pace, eyes constantly scanning through the helmet's eyepiece for threats.
Behind him followed David, maintaining careful control over the automatic servo robots whose mechanical tentacles held Jessica suspended in their gentle grip. Trish walked close beside her injured friend, one hand occasionally reaching out to offer wordless comfort.
Blade had volunteered to assume the dangerous position of rear guard, accepting responsibility for protecting their backs. A silver long blade with wickedly sharp edge rested gripped tightly in his palm, the weapon held ready for immediate deployment. His enhanced senses swept constantly for pursuit, waiting for the inevitable attack.
"My lord, approximately eight hundred meters ahead, sensors detect signs of large numbers gathering. Multiple heat signatures converging on our position." David's warning came suddenly through the communication channel. "I assess the heretic has discovered our location and is mobilizing response forces."
Nolan didn't bother looking back, his attention remaining fixed forward. He shifted the Warscythe's grip slightly, testing the weapon's balance.
A low voice emerged from within his metal helmet, orders transmitted clearly to all members of the group.
"I will clear the path ahead. Servo robots will eliminate any threatening targets from elevated positions. Everyone remember your priorities: do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Our goal is tactical withdraw and reaching the Valkyrie. Speed over combat."
As soon as the final word finished echoing, Nolan's entire demeanor shifted from cautious advance to aggressive assault.
Accompanied by the low hum of countless electro-fiber bundles contracting and servo devices cycling to maximum output, power flooded through his armor's systems.
Nolan's footsteps changed from slow, measured paces to explosive running. He pushed the power armor to its absolute limits, servos screaming with exertion.
He launched a terrifying charge toward the street ahead, accelerating with each stride until he moved like a blue missile.
Inside a narrow street several hundred meters distant, the enemy force revealed itself.
Large numbers of shadowy figures, the controlled insane shuffling with uncoordinated movements, staggered forward alongside red-robed believers who moved with more purpose. These fanatics carried firearms, the weapons held with disturbing competence.
They appeared rapidly in Nolan's helmet eyepiece, the enhanced vision systems providing perfect clarity despite darkness and distance. Targeting data overlaid the scene, calculating optimal attack vectors.
These red-robed believers were not priests within the sect's hierarchy, lacked the higher rank and supernatural powers of true leadership.
But they represented the backbone of the Blood Coven nonetheless, fanatic believers who had proven themselves through devotion and violence.
The Warscythe's sharp edge continuously emitted brilliant green light as Nolan charged. The glow illuminated the dim buildings flanking the street, casting everything in eerie emerald radiance. Shadows danced wildly.
Those red-robed believers with fanatical expressions twisting their features used the controlled insane as mobile cover, human shields to absorb incoming fire.
They raised their weapons toward Nolan's charging form and pulled triggers repeatedly, muzzle flashes lighting the darkness.
However, ordinary solid bullets proved hopelessly inadequate against heavy ceramite plating. The rounds sparked and ricocheted off Nolan's armor, failing to penetrate or even significantly damage the surface. Even the blue paint coating remained mostly intact, only slightly chipped in places.
The next moment, Nolan's tall body, ceramite now splashed with sparks from countless impacts, crashed directly into the mob's inner ranks like a wrecking ball striking a wall.
He resembled nothing so much as an enraged bull, unstoppable momentum behind every movement.
He suddenly released a low roar from deep within his chest, the sound amplified through the helmet's vox-grille into something inhuman and terrifying.
The Warscythe gripped tightly between both palms moved like Death's own scythe harvesting lives, dancing in rapid arcs around his armored form. The blade carved through flesh and bone with equal ease, the alien technology making no distinction between materials.
In the blink of an eye, countless human limbs and scalding blood gradually covered the dirty, filth-encrusted ground within a radius exceeding ten meters. The carnage was absolute, bodies reduced to scattered parts.
Simultaneously, the servo robots controlled remotely by David revealed their presence in the dark night sky overhead. Laser weapons emerged from concealed housings, the emitters glowing red as they powered up.
Accompanied by subtle sounds of countless deadly beams cutting through the night sky and the sharp stench of superheated air molecules burning, the drones opened fire with devastating precision.
One after another, red-robed believers holding firearms amid the chaotic crowd found themselves accurately targeted. Laser beams struck with surgical precision, burning through flesh and bone in microseconds.
In just several dozen seconds of sustained fire, hundreds of red-robed believers were completely incinerated by the scorching lasers. They transformed into scattered handfuls of ash that drifted on the night breeze, lives reduced to carbon dust.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Nolan's heavy footfalls continued forward relentlessly. His mag-boots stepped directly on human heads that hadn't yet cooled, skulls cracking under the tremendous weight. Brain matter squished beneath ceramite soles.
The Warscythe gripped tightly between both hands harvested any life standing before him almost without pause, the weapon never still. Each swing killed multiple targets, the blade passing through bodies like they offered no resistance.
When his enhanced vision through the eyepiece suddenly registered figures of additional controlled people emerging from side passages, more victims being thrown into the meat grinder, Nolan made a tactical adjustment.
He suddenly dropped one armored palm from the Warscythe's grip, the weapon easily manageable one-handed despite its size.
His free hand reached down, fingers closing around the plasma pistol Trish had returned to him. The weapon had been secured at his waist.
He raised the weapon and pulled the trigger continuously without hesitation, firing toward the mass of approaching bodies. The plasma pistol sang with each discharge, energy coils cycling rapidly.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The next second, blue plasma balls the size of human heads ejected rapidly from the muzzle. Each sphere glowed with internal fusion fire, miniature suns launched at lethal velocity.
After these plasma projectiles flew forward several meters, traveling through the air with distinctive crackling sounds, they began reacting to proximity.
The spheres quickly expanded and merged together, individual charges combining into a single massive effect. They formed a large, dazzling plasma tide that rolled forward like a wave of nuclear fire.
The expanding wall of superheated matter swept across the street, consuming everything in its path with temperatures approaching stellar cores.
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