The hallway was also wrecked, but Dracula couldn't tell if it had been because of the explosion the religious maniac had caused or if it had been like this even before they came crashing through the ceiling.

He supposed it didn't matter, by transforming into a bat or mist he could bridge considerable distances in the blink of an eye.

That was exactly what he did. Dracula went out to take a look at whatever the hell was going on out on the balcony, pulling the curtain aside as he passed.

His castle was on fire, it was like a corpse being devoured by a bunch of irritatingly bright gold ants.

"What's going on here? They should have killed everyone by now. I don't understand how those weaklings got this far, there has to be someone more powerful out there. Someone interesting."

Well, he could only go down there and see for himself.

Dracula shrugged. If you want something done right, you had to do it yourself, he supposed. He didn't know why he had an army of thousands upon thousands of monstrous servants then, but at least it was true this time.

So Dracula climbed onto the balcony like someone suicidal and jumped into the middle of that mess, golden ants dragging ladders against his castle, casting magic against his castle or fighting his monsters.

He didn't transform into a bat or mist this time, he didn't transform into anything, he just dropped.

He announced his arrival by causing the ground to shake and more than ten meters around to be filled with deep cracks, as if the ground was a broken mirror. It was a good thing it wasn't any kind of mirror, because the fight was a mess to such an extent that nothing was going to be reflected clearly anyway.

"Dracula!"

"That monster has arrived!"

"Yes, yes, I know who I am. I haven't hit my head hard enough to forget it yet," he said, gesturing with his hands. His hands with black nails sharp as claws. "Let's get down to business. I've already killed the dozen idiots who came to my throne room. Where's the hero, the strongest of you all, the one who made this possible? I'm bored and you won't like me when I'm bor..."

He felt a spear pierce him from behind and saw it come out the other side.

"Oh. There you are?"

"Something like that," he answered in his ear.

Dracula transformed into mist, pulling the spear out of his chest, and regained his human form about ten meters away. He turned to get a good look at his attacker, the supposed hero, although things like front and back were a bit confusing as a fog with no eyes, no chest, no legs, no reference points.

He wasn't a sucker in shining armor like literally all the others, who gave the impression of having been cloned just to fill space.

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He was a real man, going out to do battle with the Prince of Darkness in the first thing he had found, namely half of an armor and shorts. Even the shirt didn't cover him much, his nipples must have been like ice cubes in this cold.

But this was better, oh yes, much better, and not because he had a penchant for half"naked men.

This was a Hero (yes, the capital letter was necessary), not a copycat henchman among thousands of others. Someone worth stretching to face, rather than sending his infernal hordes to deal with.

The clones must also be anticipating the fight, as they backed off, leaving them in a large open circle in the middle of this tightly packed mess and not a single one of them even made a move to come forward to help the intrepid hero.

Yes. Surely it was out of anticipation. They were shaking in their boots with excitement.

"What is your name?" Dracula asked.

"Jonathan Van Hellsing."

"Oh, I see. It seems the balls of humanity are concentrated in your family. Your great-great-great-great-grandfather was pretty cool, by the way. I miss him sometimes."

"Enough talk."

"Well but sometimes I feel like talking, not just killing. Why not oblige me? Are you in such a hurry for me to kill you and then drink a few of your friends while my pets eat the rest?"

"No, it's you who will die today."

Dracula pointed a finger at him. A sharp fingernail.

"That's the spirit. I fear, however, that you are neither the first nor the last to say that, little Jonathan."

"Mankind will finally be free of your evil!"

"Yes, I'm afraid that's not a very original sentence either. But, again, a round of applause for the spirit. You seem enthusiastic and that's very important."

"Stop taunting me, demon."

Dracula rolled his eyes and manifested his sword from the shadows of the night. Or so it would look to the onlookers, it wasn't literally the case or it would be very inconvenient when he had to defend himself during the day.

There was simply a large pocket dimension to his cloak.

There he kept all sorts of things, from pets so he could throw them on anyone who irritated him to his castle in general. Or at least the seed that gave rise to all the variations, every time he was "defeated" and then slept for a bit until humanity woke him up again.

Jonathan Van Hellsing lunged for him with his good intentions and his huge spear, stained with his blood, in front of him.

Dracula lazily swung his sword in the general direction of the spear going for his neck.

The two weapons made contact.

The resulting shockwave sent Dracula flying backwards, sending chunks of the ground flying in his wake, and Jonathan was quick enough to follow and attempt to skewer him.

Unsuccessfully, thankfully.

"Why are you doing this, why don't you leave humanity alone?"

Enough talk, he had said, but the chatter had started again. Well, he'd play along. He hardly knew him, after all. Killing him when he knew his name, his fashion sense and little else wouldn't be very meaningful.

"Being immortal is so boring. You've seen it all before and you don't need several hundred years to get tired of humans, so imagine hundreds of thousands."

"For that reason alone? For that reason, you, you!"

"Yes, for that reason. I just said so."

The fight went on for a while and they were pretty evenly matched, mostly because Dracula was holding back so the whole thing wouldn't end quickly and anticlimactically, but oh well. It counted, and it was commendable that he had made it this far, anyway.

Then Jonathan split into three clones.

"Oh, come on," Dracula said. "Though I suppose since they're copies of you, it's sort of fair. It fits."

"Says you, who has a bloody army, you knave!"

"Yes, but I'm the bad guy. Nobody expects or wants me to play fair. Besides, you see them here, trying to turn you into a pancake? Exactly." They were too busy being killed by the religious fanatics swarming around their castle like particularly bright ants, but it was still the truth, to be fair.

"You killed my mother, what did you expect?"

"Did I? I mean, how do you expect me to remember every person I have killed?"

Jonathan turned red with rage, like a teapot about to explode, and letting out a wild cry he and his whole gank squad rushed at Dracula.

The Prince of Darkness Walking Down Fifth Avenue (6): END