"Who the hell is this guy?"
Dum Dum Dugan, gasping for breath, raised his revolver and fired wildly at Walter. A cigar, thoroughly soaked in saliva, was clenched between his teeth as he roared.
John Wick casually blasted apart a few souls rising from the River of Blood, his eyes darting toward the rejuvenated Walter with palpable wariness.
"The Angel of Death!"
John Wick swallowed hard, his voice tinged with nervous tension.
"The Angel of Death, Walter! I heard stories of this legendary senior when I first started in the business. He reached the absolute pinnacle of humanity decades ago!"
A man like Walter could not exist without leaving traces. Among the unconventional circles of assassins, Walter was a figure of immense renown in the underworld.
Among that pack of hyena-like killers, anyone whose name was worthy of being whispered with reverence wasn't the type to just snipe from a mile away. High-speed car chases, curving bullets, killing men with a mere pencil—such feats were countless. Adding razor-sharp microfilaments to the list seemed entirely plausible.
"Isn't that the old butler from the Hellsing Organization?"
Rumlow smashed a few dozen blood-drenched souls with his hammer, taking a brief moment to glance at Walter, who was currently entangled in combat with Matthew and Steve.
That attire was identical to the old butler he knew of, and the fighting style was unmistakably the same.
"We're fighting an endless battle here! When do we get to go for the decapitation strike?"
Bucky shook his repaired mechanical arm, dislodging a few loose metal components, his expression grim.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. squad had arrived for a surgical decapitation strike, but being intercepted halfway was bad news. Although Bucky's metal arm had been repaired, its durability had dropped more than a tier. After all, Hydra's technology had always been more focused on materials science than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s.
"Matthew!"
Steve shouted Matthew's name, then raised his shield and charged forward.
Walter's wires, though incredibly tough, could do little against a shield composed of a Vibranium-Adamantium alloy.
Hearing the shout, Matthew felt his rage reach its peak. He raised his weapons and launched a charge toward Walter.
His flail and hand axe smashed through the blockade of Walter's specialty wires, driving straight toward the chest of the handsome, youthful Walter. Matthew threw his head back, preparing to follow the impact with a brutal headbutt.
"Hah!"
Kaecilius roared with laughter, his body turning sideways as he plowed from one side of the River of Blood to the other, his entire form drenched in crimson gore.
against enemies of insufficient strength, a Barbarian is nothing less than an unstoppable harvester.
Kaecilius finally understood the joy of the reckless combat Kanuk had described. Seeing enemies reduced to chunks of meat under his immense power filled him with absolute exhilaration.
"Just what are our enemies? Is it that vampire, or these lunatics?"
Rumlow bellowed. He had prepared himself to fight Alucard, but currently, the Progenitor Vampire seemed to be on their side.
They were merely blocking the River of Blood because the souls of the dead within it were on the verge of attacking all living things.
Especially the souls dressed as church paladins—they didn't look like benevolent believers at all. Each one radiated an aura of utter madness.
"It is both, though that hardly seems worth worrying about."
Gabriel appeared on the scene, bearing a few insignificant wounds. Though his appearance was somewhat disheveled, his spirit seemed high.
"Gabriel?"
Rumlow slung his two-handed great hammer diagonally across his back, eyeing the suddenly appearing angel with suspicion.
Gabriel's arrival caused the undead in the River of Blood to recoil and change course, as if facing a natural predator.
"Sorry to intrude, but have you seen a demon entirely made of pitch-black darkness?"
Gabriel asked with a gentle smile. The diversion of the blood river had significantly lessened the pressure on the group, allowing them to finally concentrate their forces on the troublesome Walter.
Gabriel had gained the upper hand in his battle against Mephisto's clone. After all, that clone was a priority target for Imperius's holy fire. The demon had paid a heavy price to escape Gabriel's pursuit and was currently in terrible shape.
If the clone grew any weaker, he wouldn't be able to defy the orders of his main body—who was currently being pummeled in Hell—and would be forced to crash into the holy fire blocking the passage.
Down in Hell, the Demon Lord was being brutally beaten by three Barbarians.
Essentially, he was being trampled in turns by six feet using skills like "Earthquake," "Ground Stomp," and "Avalanche." The feeling of size-fifty boots leaving continuous imprints on his face was... exquisitely painful.
Right now, the three Barbarians looked far more evil than the demons, while the two remaining Prime Evils were rolling around on the ground like bullied victims.
"Do you mean that thing that looked like black mist?"
Steve shouted loudly.
Meanwhile, Matthew used the skill Weapon Throw: Ricochet toward a spot not far behind Walter. His hand axe flew through the air wrapped in arcs of lightning, emitting a whistling whoosh as it headed straight for the black mist.
"Gabriel! Did you think I would have no backup plan?!"
The clump of black mist let out a roar before instantly diving into Walter's body.
Although the first round against Gabriel had ended in defeat, Round Two was about to begin!
The people he had made deals with weren't just the soldiers of the Millennium Organization; there was also MODOK, who was desperate to escape!
MODOK provided him with a powerful vessel, and in return, he taught MODOK a "proven" method of escape.
Walter was the conduit for MODOK to fulfill the contract. His body contained demon blood collected by Mephisto's clone, and was even infused with a portion of the demon's own energy.
Because of this, the clone could charge into this powerful body—one that transcended human limits—without any obstruction.
He had simply told MODOK: "Become strong, and you can leave." A truly effective method.
Since he had no intention of weakening his own power, his recent deals all involved "information" as currency.
MODOK, having never dealt with demons, possessed superhuman intellect but failed to foresee that Mephisto's clone would be so short-sighted, having absolutely no intention of conducting a second transaction.
It wasn't surprising, really. This clone had wanted to shed the name "Mephisto" for a long time. He could have achieved it this time, had his luck not been so terrible.
"I knew you'd be prepared, but did you ever consider that your contractor might not be as stupid as you think?"
Gabriel looked at Mephisto's clone rushing into Walter's body with a mocking expression.
That body was not as perfect as Mephisto's clone imagined.
Because the entities MODOK sought help from weren't limited to demons!
A high-intelligence individual aware of supernatural existences would never make the mistake of putting all his eggs in one basket.
Walter's bodily modifications contained the power of an Angel!
In terms of sheer durability, Walter's body was no weaker than the form Gabriel had taken centuries ago as Van Helsing.
If his body could serve as a vessel for a demon's descent, it could naturally accommodate an angel's soul as well!
And the power of the vampire Alucard had turned this body into a cage!
The souls of the angel and the demon would have to battle for supremacy within this body to end it. And during this process, Walter's own will would awaken!
Once the battle between angel and demon concluded, the victor would assist him in his duel against Alucard!
This was the condition Walter had accepted before undergoing MODOK's modifications.
To Walter, the Millennium Organization was also an enemy. He could tolerate them temporarily to restore his prime and fight Alucard, but faced with a better option, he had no reason to refuse!
"Clone of Mephisto, you are finished!"
Wearing a subtle smile, his golden hair flowing in the wind and a trail of azure light streaking behind him, Gabriel charged headlong into Walter's body.
The path forward was now clear!
Steve and his team could proceed to complete their decapitation mission!
With murderous intent, the group marched toward the crash site of the zeppelin, where the catalyst for all this chaos awaited their harvest.
Alucard, dragging his longsword, appeared leisurely at the end of the street. He looked at the Walter before him with a gaze full of lament.
Aging is too cruel for humanity. The strong eventually become weak.
The wise become foolish. And the fear of "becoming weak" eventually leads humans down an ugly path.
Walter, once Alucard's comrade and a human whose strength he acknowledged, was finally facing his curtain call.
Alucard's hair swayed in the wind, his stubbled face appearing somewhat melancholic.
In his form as Vlad the Impaler, Alucard carried a far more human air than his usual monstrous guise. He stabbed his longsword into the ground, looking on with a sense of nostalgia.
"The Vampire Alucard... are you also troubled by emotions?"
Father Anderson stood behind Alucard, a bayonet between his fingers, his tone drifting and elusive.
He no longer placed his faith in an intangible God, but in the Archangel of Valor, Imperius, who had once resided within his body.
The courage to defend everything and the resolve to never regret—these were things he grasped after touching Imperius.
He would show no mercy to monsters, for the Archangel of Valor was equally stubborn.
He would not treat non-believers gently, for Imperius never spoke kindly to those who were not angels.
But Anderson, like Imperius, was of the Light!
After beheading the Prime Evil, Imperius—through the Nephalem—had learned tolerance. Anderson's attitude toward life, too, was now filled with compassion.
The two had become increasingly similar through their interaction. Father Anderson could now truly be called a Believer of Valor.
In Anderson's eyes, Imperius was his Lord!
The rest of the Church was too far removed from Anderson, for he had truly seen the existence worthy of being called "Lord."
His faith would not waver!
"Anderson. Alexander Anderson! Can you send me to my eternal sleep?"
Alucard's voice was faint, like a whispered confession.
The birth of the vampire Alucard was, in itself, a blasphemy against faith.
The depth of Alucard's piety in life was matched only by the intensity of his hatred for God in death.
yet, not long ago, he had witnessed the revival of a deity firsthand. The radiance of Imperius had made his cold body feel warmth for the first time in ages.
That holiness and grandeur were sensations he had never imagined.
Even when he was a boy, humiliated as a slave, the crucifix in his hand had never held such warm radiance.
"The Vampire Alucard, or should I say, Vlad the Impaler, Dracula. Just what kind of path have you chosen to exist upon?"
Father Anderson pushed up his glasses with the heel of his palm, hiding his eyes behind the reflection of the lenses.
Anderson's understanding of Alucard was no longer limited to the concept of a "vampire."
The name "The Impaler" was legendary.
Alucard and Dracula were merely the same name reversed.
"You, who forsook your faith and abandoned the name Dracula to call yourself Alucard... do you regret it?"
Father Anderson's tone was entirely unpolite. The anger reserved for monsters still simmered within him.
"Is faith truly necessary for humanity's existence?"
Alucard spoke, his face etched with confusion.
"God does not need gold plating, but humans do."
Father Anderson took a few steps back, maintaining an appropriate distance from Alucard.
"If faith cannot be used as a bargaining chip, then there is no longer any connection between humanity and the Divine."
Alucard walked forward, dragging his sword. The River of Blood in the distance began to converge toward him. As a monster, why would he face a powerful human like Father Anderson alone?
The "Demon King" should wait upon his throne for the Hero to cut through the thorns and arrive.
Only then is the Hero qualified to truly do battle with the Demon King.
The King of Vampires prepared himself for the challenger.
His River of Blood still held hundreds of thousands of souls. This number was not much different from when Van Helsing challenged him all those years ago.
"Anderson, where are your companions? You alone cannot deal with my soldiers."
Alucard closed his eyes, speaking to Father Anderson.
"Master!"
At that moment, two heavily injured figures dropped down from the eaves of a nearby building, followed by the sound of rhythmic, deliberate footsteps approaching from the distance.
Anderson's disciples: the Paladin, Heinkel Wolfe, and the Nun, Yumie Takagi.
And the owner of the footsteps, a young man dressed as an Archbishop, walking in expensive, handmade calfskin boots.
The commander of the Church's forces for this operation, the Archbishop, Enrico Maxwell!
"Master, the Church's crusade has failed this time, hasn't it?"
Maxwell smoothed his hair, pressing down the strands that had curled up in the wind against his scalp.
"Maxwell, have you achieved your ambition?"
Anderson released the bayonets in his hands and pulled his two disciples into the crook of his arms, soothing their hostility toward Maxwell. He then looked at the man who was once his proudest student.
"Who can say now that I am not a great man? I am an Archbishop, and also the disciple of you, the Saint on Earth."
Maxwell's face was perfectly calm.
When Anderson awakened Imperius, Maxwell had been right beside him. He, too, had come into close contact with the miracle generated by the awakening of the Archangel of Valor.
He loved power, yearned for glory, and wished to stand above all others forever!
But Maxwell was also a devout believer.
From the moment Anderson awakened Imperius, he became Alexander Saint Anderson.
Could the title of a Saint's Disciple be any less prestigious than that of an Archbishop?
Maxwell, who desired to be a superior being, had long since found his path. A living Saint needed a helper to handle the trivial matters.
That person could only be him—Enrico Maxwell!
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