Over the next few days, Darren and Blade carved their way through Frost's territory like a storm of blood and silver.
Blade took the lead—charging headlong into battle, ripping through the enemy lines like a beast unleashed—while Darren stayed just behind, cleaning up with surgical precision, his trusty Sun Blade slicing down every straggler.
It was a brutal rhythm, simple but deadly: Blade wounded, Darren finished.
The body count climbed at a staggering pace. Within nights, their combined slaughter had spread through the vampire underworld like a plague.
Whispers began to circulate. Then rumors. Then a name.
They called them the Black-and-White Reapers.
Blackwhite-double-kill!
Even the pronunciation caught on among the terrified fledglings.
But fame had its price.
By the third day of their rampage, the number of vampires had plummeted. Entire dens were deserted—only a handful of stragglers left behind to guard empty hideouts. And those few, the moment they heard even the faintest noise, would flee like rats abandoning a sinking ship.
When Darren and Blade cleared yet another half-empty den, the system tone chimed crisply in Darren's head.
[Mission "Ghost Sweep" Completed!]
[Total Vampire Kills: 1234]
[Rewards: 2000 EXP, +50 S.H.I.E.L.D. Reputation, Equipment: Gravity Boots, Items: Scroll of Amaterasu's Seal, Coin of Fate]
[Equipment: Gravity Boots – Allows the user to walk on any surface. (Reminder: Turn them on first, or risk breaking both legs.)]
[Item: Scroll of Amaterasu's Seal – A sealing scroll containing the divine flame Amaterasu. Can be used on a specified target.]
[Item: Coin of Fate – 50% chance to trigger full recovery. 50% chance to summon divine lightning.]
[Proceed to next mission or skip cutscene?]
"Another mission?" Darren murmured. Without hesitation, he chose Skip.
[NPC Nick Fury has issued a new mission.]
[Mission: La Magra Ritual]
[Objective: End Deacon Frost's conspiracy.]
[Rewards: 5000 EXP, +100 S.H.I.E.L.D. Reputation, 1 Random Skill, 2 Random Equipment, 3 Random Items.]
Not a main quest, but damn, those rewards were generous.
And as luck would have it, Blade had just uncovered Frost's main hideout.
Perfect timing.
...
By dawn the next day, they stood before a massive private skyscraper—sealed tight, looming like a metal fortress. Every window was shuttered by reinforced steel plating, giving the building a cold, impenetrable feel.
Darren whistled. "Didn't know vampires were this loaded."
Blade gave a dry snort. "Plenty of rich people want to live forever."
He wasn't wrong. The wealthier the human, the deeper their fear of death—and the more desperate their bid for immortality.
Darren looked at him slyly. "So what happened to you, huh? Why are you broke?"
Blade's face twitched. "…I'm half-human. Doesn't count."
Fair point.
The plan they made was as simple as it was reckless.
Step one: sneak in.
Step two: improvise.
It was, by Darren's standards, a "thoroughly thought-out" plan.
"To keep Frost from escaping," Darren said, "you take the lower floors, I'll take the roof. We'll crush them from both sides."
Blade arched an eyebrow. "Two people surrounding an entire skyscraper?"
"Exactly," Darren said, smirking. "Sounds badass, right?"
Blade had to admit, it did.
But practicality soon kicked in. "You do realize this building's fifty stories tall, right? How do you plan on getting up there?"
Darren just grinned, crouched down, and tapped the switch on his new Gravity Boots.
Then, without ceremony, he walked straight onto the vertical wall.
And stayed there.
Blade's brain froze.
What the hell kind of science was that?!
With gravity-defying ease, Darren strolled up the sheer face of the skyscraper, boots humming faintly beneath him. In moments, he reached the rooftop and peeked over the edge.
The thumping of music greeted him—heavy bass, flashing lights. A rooftop pool glowed under neon lamps, and a group of vampires were, predictably, throwing yet another party.
Darren sighed. "Do these idiots ever not party?"
He pulled out a megaphone.
"Hey! Eyes up here! I've got an announcement!"
Every vampire around the pool froze, confused, then tilted their heads upward.
There, fifty stories above the street, half of Darren's face peeked over the ledge, grinning down at them.
"How the hell did he get up there?" one vampire muttered.
Before anyone could move, a few small metal cylinders dropped into their midst.
"Shit! Flashbangs!"
BOOM!
Blinding white light erupted.
The vampires screamed, staggering backward, clutching their eyes and ears. Their regenerative powers couldn't save them from the sensory overload—sight, hearing, and dignity all gone in an instant.
Darren leaped off the ledge mid-blast, Desert Eagle gleaming in his hands.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Silver rounds tore through the blinded crowd. Heads burst like fireworks, bodies turning to ash before they even hit the ground.
The survivors scrambled to fight back, fumbling for their guns, but their shots went everywhere—into walls, furniture, even each other.
Darren barely needed to move. He stood coolly amid the chaos, firing clean, methodical headshots.
When the last one dropped, he reloaded lazily and grabbed the nearest survivor by the collar.
"Where's Deacon Frost?"
"Deacon who?"
"Frost."
"What Frost?"
"…"
BANG!
So much for interrogation. The poor guy was still deaf from the flashbang.
Darren sighed, tapped his earpiece. "This is Darren. I've infiltrated the building undetected. Over."
"I'm in too," came Blade's voice—followed by the sounds of intense fighting in the background. "Also undetected."
"Perfect," Darren replied dryly. "Let's split up and look for Frost."
He found a stairwell and started descending.
His boots clicked against the metal steps—thak thak thak—echoing through the halls.
Then came the sound of boots. Many boots.
At the far end of the corridor, a heavily armed squad of vampires rounded the corner. Helmets, Kevlar, assault rifles—professional, organized, and very, very pissed.
They spotted Darren and instantly opened fire.
Ratatatatata!
Flames spat from their rifles.
Darren dove behind a concrete pillar, bullets sparking off the walls. The vampires advanced tactically, laying down suppressing fire while closing in with military precision.
Then—clink.
Something rolled out from behind Darren's cover.
A grenade.
"Grenade!" one vampire shouted.
But instead of an explosion, the device hissed—and released a thick cloud of yellow smoke that spread like wildfire through the corridor.
The vampires froze.
"Garlic concentrate!" one screamed.
Too late.
The stench hit like acid. The smoke clung to their skin, igniting invisible flames across their bodies. The squad's screams echoed down the hall, high and desperate, until all that remained were piles of ash drifting through the yellow haze.
Vampires were tough, yes. But they were also fragile in the right ways. Garlic, silver, sunlight—it didn't take much once you knew the rules.
And Darren? He was playing the game on god mode.
Once the smoke cleared, he moved on, sweeping the upper floors for any trace of Frost—but found nothing.
He tapped his comm again. "Blade, any luck?"
There was a pause. Then Blade's voice, low and grim, came through.
"Yeah. I found something."
"What is it?"
A heavy silence.
Then Blade said, voice tight, "I found my mother. She's alive."
Darren froze. "…Wait. What?"