Little Broly and Little Koz perfectly inherited Old Father Li Pu's temperament.
The instant they found the culprit who had blown up their house, the two kids didn't waste a single word—just one syllable: fight!
"A-ta-ta-ta—"
Little Broly blinked in front of Dracula and, against the Vampire progenitor's angular face, unleashed a machine-gun flurry of punches.
The very first blow scared Dracula into transforming on the spot—into his second form.
His mail shirt burst apart over knotted, bulging muscle, and he became a taller, bulkier, horn-crowned, demon-faced bruiser.
In this state his strength skyrocketed; more importantly, he turned unbelievably tough.
Dracula could swear on the Sun that those fists had hit harder than a 12.5-mm cannon.
If he hadn't switched forms in time, he wouldn't have survived even a single punch!
Even so, Broly drove him back step after step.
He smashed through table after table in the council hall, his body nearly stamped into the granite wall.
"Enough!"
When the fangs he could have advertised for a dentist were broken to stubs, the Vampire Earl finally snapped.
"How dare you treat me like this!"
His body dissolved into mist and slipped from Broly's small fists.
Yet the instant he re-formed, a searing, churning agony erupted inside him.
"WTF!"
The Earl swore—something he rarely did.
Some little bastard had stuffed peeled garlic cloves into his gut!
Rewind one minute.
Watching his big brother charge in to pummel the boss, little Koz made his own move.
The boy's psychic foresight was terrifyingly sharp.
He had already glimpsed fragments of the future when the Vampire bombardment hit their home.
So Koz prepared in advance.
He took a bag of garlic, a kitchen knife, and a bottle of ketchup from the dining cart parked inside the house.
When the Vampire Elders at the council-hall door and the summoned Nando were all left reeling by Broly's sonic-boom charge, kind-hearted Koz hurried over to "treat" them.
A Primarch possesses a super-brain, not the sort of useless one that can only think "hit it with super-strength A."
After a week online with a modified scouter, Koz had watched movies, comics, and novels—and picked up a few interesting things.
Anatomy, for instance.
Shhk-shhk-shhk—
Koz darted to the fallen Vampires and, with three neat strokes, carved tidy micro-incisions across their chests, every cut skilfully missing vitals.
Before the wounds could close, he shovelled handfuls of peeled garlic into their body cavities.
Garlic alone can't kill a Vampire the way concentrated extract can, but leaving it inside their bodies—
That was the nightmare.
These Elders and Nando were pure-blood Vampires; the cuts healed almost instantly.
The moment they came to, it felt as if knives were twisting inside them; they bared their fangs in agony.
"You little—!"
Nando saw what Koz had done and, teeth clenched, tried to grab the "boy" and tear him apart.
But the moment he stood, gravity and shifting organs sent the garlic cloves sliding elsewhere.
A few localized stabs of pain became full-body torture—an execution from the inside.
He screamed, stood for half a second, then collapsed again.
That scream nudged his organs further; the stabbing intensified.
Seeing his misery, the other Vampire Elders gasped—then instantly regretted it, for the same reason.
Hold perfectly still and the pain was bearable; move a muscle and it spiked exponentially.
In that instant they stared at little Koz as if he were King Yama himself.
Koz felt no particular joy at their terror; they had brought it on themselves.
If they treated mortals as toys and food, wasn't it only fair that someone stronger do the same to them?
"Lie still, don't move, don't speak. Someone will come to end you soon."
Leaving only that promise—and utter despair—Koz turned his gaze to Count Dracula, whom his big brother was currently pounding against a wall.
Though his psychic foresight was formidable, Koz could see only fragments, not the entire future.
One fragment showed the second-form Vampire escaping Broly by turning to mist.
Out of respect for the boss, Koz upended the plastic bag and hurled every remaining clove.
He had foreseen where Dracula would re-solidify; every piece of garlic slid painlessly into place.
Not a single clove was wasted!
Dracula was in such agony he went numb.
Worse, he had just used his mist magic; several minutes would pass before he could use it again to expel the garlic.
"You forced me into this!"
Dracula howled—then his stomach cramped even harder.
Just as little Broly flashed in front of him for another "a-ta-ta-ta," the Earl flipped his wrist.
A ray shot from his palm; Broly twisted mid-air to dodge, but the beam zig-zagged and struck home.
"Get off me!"
The instant the ray hit, Broly clenched his fists and a blazing green aura erupted.
His pupils turned blood-red, his green hair bristling upright.
Yet, braced for injury, Broly was astonished: he felt nothing—the ray seemed to have no effect at all.
"What's going on?"