"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. have any new information?"
Integra was speaking with Steve in the reception room. Her legs were crossed, radiating the oppressive presence of a superior.
As a strong woman who had single-handedly supported the Hellsing Organization, Integra's demeanor and power were impeccable, despite her relative youth.
Merely by meeting her face-to-face, Steve could sense that this woman's combat ability might not be much inferior to his own.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s support will arrive soon. We've also uncovered some information regarding the Last Battalion," Steve said somewhat gloomily.
Over the past few days, he had become the liaison between Nick Fury and the squad. The constant exchanges and reports had left him thoroughly exhausted.
Not everyone was cut out for intelligence work; simply thinking about how to avoid revealing too much information was draining Steve's energy.
"The Last Battalion has already assembled. As for when they will arrive in London, that is still under investigation," Steve added, leaning back fully into the sofa.
Such a posture was rare for a disciplined old soldier like him.
"Seeing as this will be a positional battle, MI11 can also play a decent role in a direct confrontation."
Integra reached out and tapped the table, a cold sneer appearing on her face.
She did not underestimate the Last Battalion. Regardless of the organization, possessing a troop of supernatural soldiers made them a dangerous existence. And as remnants of the Third Reich, that danger level was elevated significantly.
However, in a direct confrontation, human military power was not something to be ignored.
Modern weaponry, with the simple addition of a holy water blessing process, could inflict considerable damage on vampire soldiers.
Sometimes, numbers were indeed useful.
In low-level combat, humans were the masters of this planet—no one could deny that.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. has noted demon attacks occurring worldwide, and all signs point to the Last Battalion."
Steve slapped his forehead. This was the latest news, and it made the situation feel like it was spiraling out of control.
He didn't doubt the combat capabilities of the human army. The problem was not knowing when the enemy would arrive or exactly how many there were.
This intelligence gap was a complete blank, and Steve was not optimistic about it.
Who could guarantee the safety of the civilians living in this city?
The new demon attacks also rendered his previous understanding of the enemy meaningless. Before this, he had only known the enemy to be vampires.
"Integra. As agreed, I am here."
Anderson radiated a low-pressure aura. He had been filled with frustration over at Nimue's place, and he was still suppressing his rage.
With his broken glasses, he looked somewhat unpresentable.
Anderson now resembled an ordinary person after an argument, replaying the "battle" in his head and thinking, I should have said that.
Most anger generated from arguments only peaked after the event had concluded.
It was like seeing a bizarre comment online; everyone tells themselves the person speaking is the problem. But that doesn't stop the headache caused by anger after reading it. Coupled with an unpleasant conversation, this rage was even more lethal.
At this moment, Constantine cheekily poked his head in from outside the door, let out a long breath, and then stepped inside.
He didn't want to see Rumlow here. That would remind him of his punched eye socket and that annoying phrase, "I reckon."
For someone who respected knowledge and believed in the power of wisdom, nothing was more mocking than solving a problem after simply saying, "I reckon."
"How much does the Church know about the Last Battalion?"
Integra cut straight to the chase. She had no time for small talk with Church personnel, and Father Anderson was the type who knew nothing of diplomatic niceties and had no objections to directness.
"After the Third Reich collapsed, a portion of them fled to Italy. It was the Church that provided them shelter."
As Anderson spoke, his fists clenched tight.
He found it difficult to accept the fact that traitors to the faith had appeared within the Church. Even though the man responsible had been nailed to a cross, Anderson was still furious.
The current Anderson was both "brainless" and "unhappy."
"We have already purged the one who betrayed the faith, but the Last Battalion has already begun to move."
One could hear a soul-chilling coldness in his words, which mismatched the holy flames flickering around him.
"Then does the Church know from where they will launch their attack? And who is their target?"
Integra assumed the leadership role, her cold voice ringing out.
She was in no mood for Church gossip; she only wanted information useful for their next move.
"The target will undoubtedly be Alucard and London. The origin of those vampires has been verified. It should be the Midnight Vampire who served in the Howling Commandos back then—Mina Harker!"
As Anderson said this, he turned his head to glance at the somewhat surprised Steve.
"Captain America, God's Righteous Man. I've heard much about you. Because Mina Harker was captured by the Third Reich on the battlefield, we now have these vampire troops. As I said, monsters are completely unreliable."
Anderson's gaze toward Steve was devoid of politeness, even full of aggression.
The title "God's Righteous Man" was not something the Church could laugh off.
The Church was authority. If not for Captain America's status in the United States, they would have denounced him long ago.
To maintain the purity of faith, most of the Church's armed forces were composed of fanatical believers.
"Mina Harker?"
Steve repeated the name, then stood up as if remembering something.
"She is a vampire. Time cannot kill her!"
"But the Third Reich can! According to our intelligence, she is already dead."
Anderson spoke with a hint of pleasure. Steve's unhappiness was his happiness. Plus, the death of an Origin-level vampire was enough to make him smile, even if that smile was somewhat hideous.
"Then the battlefield will be London. How do you plan to evacuate the civilians?"
Steve wasn't in the mood to argue with Anderson and asked directly.
Compared to victory or defeat in battle, his first thought was always the safety of civilians.
"The Secretary of State is organizing the evacuation. We must intercept the enemy outside the city limits."
Integra closed her eyes as she spoke. This was an extremely difficult task.
Even counting MI11, a force with rich experience fighting monsters, their numbers were still too few.
Furthermore, mobilizing ordinary people to evacuate was a difficult task for this country.
There were always skeptics who would doubt everything, then take to the streets to promote their own views.
Right now, a tall man was on the streets of London holding a tattered handwritten sign proclaiming "The End of the World," and some people actually believed him.
It made Integra want to drop her dignity and beat someone up.
As for the enemy, she wasn't overly worried. Having Alucard release the River of Death in the city would solve the problem instantly.
"Then let Alucard release his full power. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time!"
Anderson smiled scornfully.
Information on Alucard wasn't hard to find. The Church had records of his unreasonable ability, the "River of Death."
As long as Alucard fully released the River of Death, killing him personally would thoroughly finish off this "immortal" vampire.
Anderson was looking forward to this opportunity.
"If it becomes truly necessary, Alucard will release the River of Death. But he will not lose."
Integra looked at the grinning Anderson and spoke bluntly. She knew the Church's goal very well, and neither side intended to hide it.
"I want to organize a squad to head directly to the Last Battalion's location and engage them."
Steve tightened his grip on his shield, solemnly stating his idea to Integra and Anderson.
Crushing the enemy first was a good idea. Integra was somewhat tempted by the suggestion, while Anderson merely grinned without saying a word.
"When can S.H.I.E.L.D. find the enemy's specific location?"
"Nick Fury never disappoints when it comes to gathering intelligence. We will know soon."
Steve had no clue about this himself, but he trusted that Nick Fury wouldn't turn a blind eye.
Investigating information was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s specialty.
Who knew if Nick Fury had an undercover agent lurking within the Last Battalion? Steve's trust in Nick Fury's capabilities was quite high.
"Our goal is to eliminate monsters; it doesn't matter where we fight. Or rather, eliminating you heretics along with them would better suit our goals."
Anderson's words were strange; it seemed he didn't really want to do that.
A rational fanatic still held compassion for humanity. He wasn't like Maxwell, willing to sacrifice innocent lives for power and religion.
But he was merely the Church's sharp blade and had no say in the matter.
"Right now, we don't even know the enemy's location or numbers, nor how strong they truly are. What is your take on this battle?"
Integra threw the question to Steve.
She wasn't adept at commanding large-scale battles; professional matters were best left to professionals.
Steve furrowed his brows, his hand restlessly clenching and unclenching.
"Regardless, this battle is inevitable. So, establish defensive lines first! And do not hesitate to use force to make ordinary people evacuate."
Steve said this with some difficulty.
Coming from Captain America, the symbol of the United States, a plan that "restricted personal freedom" was somewhat ironic.
While the intense discussion took place in Hellsing's reception room, all of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s forces had been mobilized.
Full attention was focused on investigating the Last Battalion.
This matter also agitated the American military. After all, they had been a main force against the Third Reich back in the day.
If the Last Battalion could destroy London, would Washington be next?
They weren't willing to gamble on that, so they could only fully cooperate with the investigation.
Especially since the Last Battalion possessed technology to transform humans into vampires. That extended lifespan and mature transformation technology were things they coveted.
If not for the fact that they hadn't found the Last Battalion's location yet, they would have initiated combat already.
Crusading against the remnants of the Third Reich was a righteous cause in itself, much more convenient than carefully plotting for Tony Stark's armor.
"Destroy the enemy, retrieve important data"—they were familiar with this work. Thus, S.H.I.E.L.D. was also facing pressure from the military.
Those guys didn't want to be left just cleaning up the battlefield. If not for Britain's refusal, they would have dispatched troops to London to assist in defense long ago.
At this moment, Nick Fury was on a call with Frank. It would be a waste not to contact an acquaintance who was already on the scene.
"Are there any supernatural events happening in London right now?"
Nick Fury asked immediately upon connecting the call.
He knew Frank had taken his son to London for a vacation.
Even the report about the singing and roaring that echoed through London had long been placed on his desk. S.H.I.E.L.D. had certainly participated in fabricating the excuse to fool all the ordinary people in the city.
They were familiar with that work, too.
But now, Nick Fury was getting a headache over it.
Maria Hill had returned to her post after treatment, but she didn't look well. She had dark circles under her eyes that even makeup couldn't fully conceal.
"Which aspect are you referring to?"
Frank asked while holding his son's hand with his left, scanning the busy mages around him.
He was currently living in the mages' residence. Speaking of supernatural events, he was surrounded by them.
Just now, several mages were wrestling with shields conjured from mana right in front of him, and he was the referee...
That was pretty supernatural.
"Information regarding vampires and demons."
Nick Fury felt like his eyebrows were starting to fall out.
When he discovered his stress-induced hair loss was affecting his eyebrows, his stress increased even more.
It was a vicious cycle: high stress—hair loss—higher stress—more hair loss.
Nick Fury knew Frank well. Getting such an answer meant the supernatural events in London were too numerous to count.
"I saw Blade wandering the streets earlier. Does that count?"
Frank casually rubbed Jill's forehead as he spoke. People often had small habits when thinking.
Jill: "?"
"It seems what you know and what I need are different things. Then, do you have anything to say about Bul-Kathos?"
Nick Fury asked immediately. He wouldn't probe too deeply; compared to being told, he preferred the results of his own investigation.
"I wasn't nearby at the time."
Frank applied a bit more force as he spoke, and a rustling sound came from his fingers rubbing against Jill's scalp.
When Bul-Kathos performed his meteor drop, Frank had watched him jump. Thinking back on that scene was still shocking.
Jill's expression turned into that of a cat having its scalp pulled back, the corners of his eyes lifting.
"Ouch!"
Hearing this, Frank immediately pulled his hand back, hurriedly hung up the phone, and comforted his son.
Clearly, between Nick Fury's call and comforting his son, Frank chose his son.
On the other end, Nick Fury misunderstood the meaning of Frank hanging up.
Perhaps he thought Frank had been threatened into silence.
So, Nick Fury glanced at the somewhat dazed Agent Hill beside him, hesitated again and again, and then called Coulson.
He needed more accurate information now, so he could only transfer people from the location of the two hammers.
Old Dugan and John Wick were ready to depart; they would join the battle as reserve forces.
Hawkeye had ended his vacation and was on standby—or under observation, rather.
Agent Hill's current state was clearly unsuitable for field work, so he could only call Coulson or Natasha. And Natasha's current stance was questionable, so Nick Fury had no better choice.
Although he maintained contact with Steve every day, Steve was clearly not very competent as an intelligence officer.
Mount Arreat—the Sacred Mountain—wasn't exactly peaceful either. Although the trainees had mostly returned, there was an extra fellow on the mountain.
And this fellow wasn't welcome at all.
"Bul-Kathos~ I really miss that name. I didn't expect to recover so quickly inside the Black Soulstone."
Andariel's voice echoed in Bul-Kathos's mind. Although her power was completely locked down by the Wrath of the Wastes set, her voice could still be transmitted.
Without power to assist her, it was difficult for Andariel to corrupt Bul-Kathos like she had Aidan back then, but it was truly annoying.
Her claim of recovering power was just talk; recovering power inside the Black Soulstone was much harder than outside.
If not for the residual aura from the last time the Seven Evils were sealed in the stone, Andariel would have had to wait years just to wake up.
"Shut up! Or I'll put Leoric in there too!"
Bul-Kathos squatted in a corner of the Sacred Mountain, slapped the ground hard, and issued an impossible threat. Then he stared at the Sacred Mountain's gate with bloodshot eyes.
Putting Leoric into the Black Soulstone was just angry talk. Although Leoric could beat the currently barely-able-to-speak Andariel until she could emit nothing but screams...
Bul-Kathos didn't want to hear the sound of Skeleton King Leoric swinging his mace inside his head.
Bul-Kathos was no stranger to the sound of the Mace of the Mad Monarch hitting demons. It sounded like an iron rod beating beef into paste on a chopping board.
Bul-Kathos didn't intend to make Pissing Beef Balls out of Andariel, so why would he put Skeleton King Leoric in there?
It was just that Andariel's voice was too noisy, so Bul-Kathos made a casual threat.
Using himself as a cage to seal a Demon Lord wasn't without effect on Bul-Kathos. At least now, his body began to emit the aura of a Hell Lord.
As for the Sacred Mountain's gate, Madawc had paved both sides with snow sculptures. Talic's sculpture now had a new look: head buried in the snow, and buried with only the head sticking out.
Madawc had been doing this for days. He even built a super-large sculpture.
It depicted him stepping on Baal, and Baal stepping on Talic.
If he hadn't placed this sculpture behind a giant rock, Talic might not have been in the mood to stall for time by letting Raekor flip him over repeatedly.
It was precisely because Talic was stuck in a cycle of advancing one step and being thrown back three by Raekor that Madawc wasn't worried about getting beaten up.
Korlic was sitting on the ground twisting a sinew left by hundreds of demons. He said once he twisted it into a good rubber band, he'd make a slingshot to hit Olongus in the forehead.
God knows why he thought a slingshot could contend with Olongus's Ancient Spear skill.
Anyway, over the long passage of time, these Ancestors were all becoming a bit eccentric, acting on whatever whim came to mind. Especially when there were few people on the Sacred Mountain, they were all unleashing their nature.
Even the relatively normal Raekor was finding some joy in the process of flipping Talic.
This could be seen from the bizarre variety of poses Talic assumed mid-flight.
As for the half of Bul-Kathos's soul that had been split off, it wouldn't make a sound for now. That was Bul-Kathos's last line of defense against the Seven Evils.
That consciousness would only awaken when Bul-Kathos's will was on the verge of collapse, adding another burst of strength to his sanity at the brink.
Otherwise, the long duration would be enough to drive the soul inside mad.
Doing this would at least extend Bul-Kathos's sanity, buying time for the next human cage to grow.
Someone not strong enough couldn't accept this responsibility. The true test began when the Hell Lords started using their power to influence the host.
"Hey, Bul-Kathos. Looks like you're adapting quickly?"
Vorusk appeared silently beside Bul-Kathos, dragging an unconscious Thor by one leg.
"Is it appropriate to treat that guy like this?"
Bul-Kathos glanced at Thor on the ground and spoke with irritation.
"Madawc beat Luke until his consciousness blurred. If Madawc can do it, why can't I?"
Vorusk tossed Thor aside and sat directly next to Bul-Kathos.
"Are you still worried about the rules of Time?"
Vorusk asked while rubbing his beard. The influence of Time as a power was simply too great.
Once the beginning and end were destined, the only controllable moment—the present—seemed unimportant.
Vorusk could understand Bul-Kathos's worry.
"I don't care about some destined fate. Does encountering those things mean I have to accept my curtain call without resistance?"
Bul-Kathos pulled a bottle of strong liquor from the pouch at Vorusk's waist, chopped the neck off with a hand blade, and chugged it.
Clearly, he wasn't as indifferent as he claimed.
"Itherael knew the final ending, but when have you ever seen him do nothing on the battlefield? Whether the Archangel of Fate himself follows fate's guidance is uncertain, so what do you have to worry about?"
Vorusk slapped the back of Bul-Kathos's head, then used the sudden surge of rage to manifest physically.
"I'll f*ck—! I have 'Animosity'! You don't need to slap me to generate Fury!"
Bul-Kathos stabbed the bottle into the snow, flipped over, and kicked the freshly materialized Vorusk, sending him tumbling.
Then he straddled Vorusk's waist and immediately began to pummel him.
Two iron fists clad in Wastes Gauntlets landed solidly on Vorusk's eye sockets. The muffled thuds were met with Vorusk's rampant laughter.
But the laughter soon became intermittent as Bul-Kathos clasped his hands into a hammer shape and smashed them ruthlessly onto Vorusk's chest.
The sound of ribs cracking could also be heard.
Fortunately, dead Ancestors couldn't be killed by Bul-Kathos a second time.
While taking the beating, Vorusk tremblingly pulled out another bottle of alcohol and poured it into his mouth.
Nosebleed mixed with the spilled alcohol dyed Vorusk's beard a different color.
After Bul-Kathos stopped, glaring, Vorusk spoke slowly.
"Feel better now? You owe me five bottles of your reserve. Not the stuff you brewed before; I want your best batch."
Vorusk wiped his face messily, smearing the nosebleed and alcohol completely.
"I'm used to it! Why did you come up here looking for a beating on your own accord, you bastard!"
Bul-Kathos rubbed the back of his head where he'd been slapped. Vorusk had a heavy hand; Bul-Kathos felt numbness from his occiput down to his neck.
"I just heard you say you wanted to put Leoric into the Black Soulstone too, so I came over."
Vorusk chuckled. regarding this "genius" idea, he had been thinking about it for a long time recently and felt it had real potential.
A Skeleton King who couldn't die and could recover to full status shortly after being shattered was enough to give those Hell Lords a headache.
The Skeleton King himself didn't have a weakened state. He woke up at his peak, and if shattered, he slumbered briefly.
In the seal of the Black Soulstone, compared to those Hell Lords who had to painstakingly gather power bit by bit upon being sealed, the Skeleton King had a unique advantage.
It was like hitting a sandbag to vent negative emotions, which costs stamina.
But as long as you didn't hit this sandbag, the sandbag would turn around and hit you. Who could stand that?
Under these circumstances, it would be a miracle if the Hell Lords could recover quickly.
"The problem is, have you heard Leoric's voice? The sound of bones colliding and smashing, combined with a gloomy tone speaking crazy words... Can you accept hearing that every moment?
At least the Hell Lords are rational; they won't use screaming to destroy my will!"
Bul-Kathos roared loudly into Vorusk's ear.
Listening to the irrational Leoric speak was worse than the most severe tinnitus.
Uninterrupted tinnitus only made it hard to be calm or rest. But tinnitus sounds were usually constant.
Leoric's speech had patterns. That skeleton body was like a repeater with pre-recorded lines, playing them over and over again.
The voice had cadence, too, rich with the dead's malicious attitude toward life.
This might have been the last bit of twisted humor Leoric had at the end of his life.
"You could make earplugs?"
"I'll make a hammer and plug it into your brain! Are earplugs useful against the voice of a soul?!"
Bul-Kathos leaped up and kicked Vorusk to the ground again, continuing to rain old fists upon him.
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