"Not enough! Still not enough!"
Frost roared like a beast gone mad, tossing aside the shriveled husk of a corpse. His eyes gleamed crimson as he lunged for the remaining vampires nearby.
They barely had time to scream.
One after another, Frost sank his fangs into them, draining them dry in seconds. Bodies collapsed like punctured bags, their skin clinging to bone, the air thick with the stench of death.
In just a few breaths, every last one of his subordinates was dead—sucked clean.
Frost stood alone, surrounded by a mountain of mummified corpses. His lips curved into a grotesque, satisfied grin. "Finally… I'm full."
Darren stared at him, torn between horror and admiration.
"Man," he muttered, "I don't get what that was… but damn, that was something."
"Frost!"
Blade's roar cut through the air like a thunderclap. He charged forward, his silver sword flashing in the dim light.
SHING!
The blade sliced clean through Frost's neck. A crimson arc gleamed midair as Frost's head flew off his shoulders.
And yet—
The moment the head hit the air, a horrific squelching sound followed. Blood exploded from the severed neck, writhing like living tentacles, latching onto the falling head and yanking it violently back in place.
SNAP!
The wound sealed itself instantly, no scar, no trace. Frost stood whole again, as if nothing had happened.
Blade froze. "What the actual—"
Frost burst into manic laughter. "Hahahaha! Do you see it now? This is the power of the La Magra! I am immortal!"
Before Blade could react, Frost vanished in a blur of blood-red light.
BOOM!
His fist crashed into Blade's chest with bone-cracking force.
Blade spat blood and flew backward like a broken kite, crashing at Darren's feet.
"Careful," he coughed, clutching his ribs. "Pure silver's useless on him now."
"I can tell," Darren deadpanned, raising his golden Desert Eagle.
BANG! BANG!
Two precise shots—one to the heart, one to the head.
Frost jerked slightly… then straightened up as the bullet holes sealed over in seconds.
He tilted his head, cracking his neck, eyes glowing like molten rubies. "A human who dares to challenge me? Perfect. I'll drink both your blood tonight."
He vanished again.
A blood-red streak shot straight toward Darren, claws outstretched, slicing the air with a sonic boom.
"Reaper's Eye."
Time warped.
The world slowed to a crawl as Darren sidestepped the strike, his figure blurring. The Sun Blade appeared in his hands, its edge gleaming like sunlight.
SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!
Three blinding cuts carved through Frost's body—limbs and torso severed into neat, wet chunks.
For a moment, it looked like victory.
Then, the pieces twitched. Blood gushed out, snaking and crawling, merging the fragments back together. Within seconds, Frost was whole again.
Even the Sun Blade couldn't stop him.
Darren blinked. "Okay, that's… ridiculous."
Frost chuckled darkly. "It's useless. Your attacks can't hurt me anymore. I could stand here all day and let you hack away—I won't die."
Darren's eyebrow twitched. "Oh? You sure about that?"
He holstered his weapons, calmly reached into his inventory… and pulled out a full-sized Gatling gun.
Frost's expression froze. "Wait—what are you—"
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Six barrels spun into a howling blur, vomiting a torrent of silver bullets that turned the air into a screaming storm of metal.
Frost tried to move—but it was too late.
The bullet rain devoured him.
Each shot punched holes through his body faster than he could heal them. His flesh shredded, his bones splintered, blood splattering across the altar like a crimson waterfall.
This, Darren thought gleefully, was what financial stability could buy you.
Thanks to Tony Stark and his lovely stepdaughter, he had cash to burn—and silver ammo to rain.
In seconds, Frost's body looked like a perforated sponge. Holes everywhere.
And yet—he was still alive.
Even with his body shredded, his wounds squirmed and pulsed, trying to knit back together, thick streams of blood crawling like worms to restore him.
Blade stared, half in awe, half in despair. "What kind of monster is this guy!?"
But Darren wasn't discouraged. Oh no.
Because right then—he saw it.
Above Frost's head, faint but unmistakable—a red health bar.
And it was going down.
Just a sliver, but enough.
His grin spread. "Well, well… since the HP bar's up—this just got easy."
He cranked the Gatling's trigger harder, the roar of bullets growing deafening. The torrent of silver rained mercilessly on Frost, breaking him apart, forcing his regeneration to overheat.
Chunks of him burst apart, regrew, burst again—a grotesque loop of endless destruction.
At this point, Blade wasn't even watching the fight. He was calculating how many pounds of silver were piling up inside Frost's body—and how much he could recover and melt down later.
"DAMN YOU!!!"
Frost's roar tore through the gunfire. Rage twisted his half-reformed face as he forced his body to pull itself back together faster.
He managed to form a vaguely human shape—hole-riddled, twitching, and very, very angry.
"Human! I'll drain you dry!!"
Frost's body blurred again, ignoring the storm of bullets. He lunged at Darren like a crimson meteor, claws aimed straight for his throat.
His logic was simple—get close, kill fast.
Except Darren's grin hadn't faded.
He lowered the Gatling, the weapon vanishing in a flicker of light.
"Thai kick warning."
Frost blinked. "What—"
WHAM!
Darren's right elbow shot out like a steel piston, smashing square into Frost's jaw.
The impact echoed like thunder. Frost's face imploded, teeth and blood spraying like a burst pipe.
Before he could even reel back, Darren stepped in, seized him by the back of the skull, and drove his knee upward—fast and vicious.
Right between the legs.
CRUNCH.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"
Frost's scream hit notes only dogs could hear. His whole body folded like a broken umbrella, hands instinctively clutching at his ruined dignity.
Vampires had many weaknesses—sunlight, silver, garlic. But above all, Frost was still a man.
And that meant… there was one more weakness on the list.
Darren showed no mercy.
He tightened his grip and unleashed a barrage of knee strikes—relentless, mechanical, and very, very personal.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Each hit landed with a wet crunch, each scream higher than the last.
Blade stood frozen, mouth slightly open, staring at the spectacle in disbelief.
Who was the monster now?
Because at this point, it sure as hell wasn't Frost.