Chapter 48 to Chapter 51
Bang!
On the private beach, a deafening crack echoed in all directions as Sergei's Armament Haki-coated fist collided with Leon's arm. The sheer force of the punch sent rainwater flying outward, forming a wide, empty circle in the storm. The ground beneath them caved in, and sand and gravel erupted in all directions.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Sergei breathed heavily as he unleashed a flurry of attacks around Leon, his speed now far greater than before. The rhythmic power of his perfectly sculpted muscles under his vest made each strike seem even more forceful.
The speed at which Sergei and Leon fought was too fast for the naked eye to follow. All that could be seen were the shockwaves from their punches and kicks colliding, and the craters that kept forming on the beach as they moved.
Nearby, spectators could clearly see the intense battle. Gennady and the Wanda twins followed the movement of the fighters with their eyes, tracking their every move. In contrast, the four younger ones struggled to keep up with the action, particularly Clarice. The youngest among them hadn't yet been injected with the super soldier serum due to their age, making it even harder for them to follow the high-speed fight.
They had to wait until they were fifteen or sixteen years old, when their bones had fully developed, before they could be injected with the serum.
"Wow, Sergei's attacks are incredibly fast, as fierce as fire," Pietro remarked, watching the battle in awe. Without his own speed abilities, the gap between his combat effectiveness and Sergei's would be enormous.
Wanda, standing beside him, nodded slightly. "The super soldier serum has greatly enhanced our physical abilities. Sergei is gradually adjusting to his body through combat, and his speed is quickly approaching subsonic, maybe even sonic levels."
The sheer power of moving at such speeds was terrifying. At the speed of sound, the impact on the surrounding environment would be far more destructive than a grenade. For ordinary people nearby, the shockwave alone could shatter internal organs and bones, and a direct hit would reduce them to pulp in an instant.
Yet, Wanda observed that Sergei could control this power with ease, which was unusual.
Boom!
Leon suddenly unleashed a sweeping kick, and with terrifying force, he sent the charging Sergei flying. Sergei struggled to halt his momentum, skidding across the sand for dozens of meters, leaving a deep trail.
As Sergei regained his stance and prepared to attack again, Leon disappeared from in front of him. His Observation Haki detected Leon's presence behind him just as Leon's voice came from close by.
"Alright, that's enough."
Sergei's tense muscles relaxed immediately.
Turning around, Sergei saw Leon standing there with his hands in his pockets. His eyes gleamed like spring stars, and his nose was sharp and refined. The sea breeze gently ruffled the hem of his pristine white shirt, untouched by dirt. His rain-soaked muscles peeked through the fabric, giving him a striking appearance.
Wanda's face flushed as she looked at him, unable to suppress her reaction. There was no denying his appeal.
Leon, oblivious to Wanda's expression, turned to the crowd that had gathered around. He gave a nod, confident. Thanks to the advanced celestial computer, Sky Blade No. 7, he could accurately gauge everyone's physical condition.
"With a force output of 125 tons, your potential should reach around 500 tons. And with your current speed nearing the speed of sound, combined with proper technique, these stats can improve even further," he said, impressed.
"Very nice."
The data was staggering—Sergei was essentially a living superman. With his enhanced physicality, his mastery of his two Haki had also improved. From an earthly perspective, they were among the top powerhouses—a group of human-shaped nuclear weapons.
Wanda and the others beamed with excitement, feeling the explosive power coursing through their bodies. As for the origin of the super soldier serum, it was an unspoken rule among them not to ask any questions.
If Leon didn't tell them, they naturally wouldn't ask. He led everyone back to the manor.
After dismissing the maids, Leon sat in a chair in the living room, looking at the group seated obediently before him. A sense of accomplishment washed over him—each one of them had been trained by his own hand.
Knocking on the table to get their attention, Leon said, "Let's get started. I need you to do something."
"I want you to capture or eliminate dark creatures around the world—werewolves, vampires, demons, or any other monsters. Let nothing escape from your grasp."
"Huh? Are there actually creatures like that on Earth?" they asked, visibly surprised. In their view, the existence of mutants made sense, but werewolves, vampires, and demons? Those were supposed to be fictional, the stuff of movies and TV shows. Yet, here was Leon implying they were very real.
"Of course they exist," Leon said with a smirk. "Hell, heaven, Norse mythology—it's all real."
The group was stunned. They exchanged glances, but along with the surprise, Leon could see excitement in their eyes.
This reaction was exactly what he had expected.
After so many years of training and spending time with Wanda's group, Leon knew them inside and out. They were nothing like ordinary people. Their very genes seemed infused with a spirit of adventure, a thirst for battle, and a desire for an extraordinary life. Even if they managed to blend into society or a campus, they were, at their core, a pride of lions.
Leon leaned forward slightly and placed a metal box he had prepared onto the table. Opening it revealed a selection of expertly crafted weapons.
Each weapon was made from Adamantium, created through Sky Blade No. 7. Their sharpness and durability were unparalleled, verging on mythical in quality.
Of course, they didn't contain any magical enhancements. Unfortunately, Sky Blade No. 7 lacked the data on the Angel Civilization's Flame Sword, as well as the materials to construct one. Otherwise, Leon mused, everyone here would be wielding one. Through Sky Blade No. 7, they could even channel a star's power and bring forth a Heavenly Blade Judgment.
…
A storm of chaos and bloodshed was on the horizon.
But, Natasha and Yelena found themselves headed to a prison.
Russia's largest prison, nestled deep in the frigid wilderness of Siberia, was infamous for its isolation. The environment for hundreds of kilometers was brutally harsh, with little more than snow-capped mountains and sparse vegetation. Animals were a rare sight, and supplies could only be delivered by transport helicopters, making this prison one of the most difficult places in Russia to escape from.
The sisters came for one reason: to find their old "family member," Alexei. He was the only one who knew the location of the person who had once been both mentor and mother to them.
But upon arriving, they faced a disagreement. If they wanted Alexei out, it would take more than just a visit. Yelena believed chaos was the key—create enough disorder, and they could break Alexei free. Natasha, however, objected.
Unlike Yelena's willingness to act without restraint, Natasha knew the prison housed dangerous criminals. Causing chaos would lead to countless deaths and injuries, something Natasha wanted to avoid at all costs. She wasn't willing to bring harm to innocent people for their mission.
Natasha and Yelena stood atop a snow-covered mountain, both clad in white combat uniforms, locked in an argument. Behind them, Hank's sleek black fighter jet sat on the snowy clearing, blending into the icy landscape.
Frustrated, Yelena finally snapped, "Then what's your plan? How are we supposed to rescue Alexei from a prison with four anti-aircraft guns and 300 heavily armed guards?"
Natasha rolled her eyes at her. "Maybe stop relying on those Red Room tactics," she replied sarcastically. Then, with a hint of regret, she added, "If I had Conqueror's Haki, I could knock everyone out at once. But I guess I'll need Clarice's help."
Yelena's curiosity piqued. "Conqueror's Haki? Is that some kind of super stun grenade?"
Ignoring her, Natasha pulled a satellite phone from her pocket and dialed a number. After a few rings, a gentle voice answered from the other end.
"Natasha?"
"Wanda, I need your help."
"Got it. I'll be there soon," Wanda replied without hesitation.
The call ended without any further questions from the other end. Yelena, who had been eavesdropping right next to Natasha, teased, "Wow, so you've got yourself a secret little lover? I didn't know you were into that."
"Shut up!" Natasha snapped, clearly irritated.
Ever since Yelena had realized the vast difference in strength between them, she'd taken every opportunity to be cheeky, often poking fun at Natasha to uncover her secrets. Now, pouting after being scolded, Yelena groaned, rolling her eyes.
Just as Yelena was about to let the topic go, the air around them suddenly rippled. A rift seemed to tear open beside her, startling her. Before she could react fully, her instincts kicked in, and she reached for her gun in alarm. From the crack in space, black and purple clouds swirled.
Two figures emerged—one tall, one small. The taller one wore a black trench coat and sunglasses, exuding a calm, cool demeanor. The smaller figure, also dressed in a black combat uniform and a tiny trench coat, had sunglasses perched atop her wide eyes, resembling a miniature assassin.
It was Wanda and Clarice. Both held their weapons, ready for action.
Natasha's eyes widened in surprise. The cold wind howled, but neither Wanda nor Clarice seemed to notice. After all, growing up in places like the Ural Mountains, they were accustomed to such freezing conditions. With their enhanced physical capabilities and resilient bloodlines, they could easily ignore the biting cold.
Both Wanda and Clarice were unaffected by the cold. Wanda, with her sunglasses perched coolly on her nose, approached Natasha with the demeanor of a hardened assassin. "Who do you want me to kill?" she asked, her voice icy.
Little Clarice, mimicking her, stood beside her, also striking a serious, silent killer pose.
Natasha couldn't help but laugh. "Are you two cosplaying?"
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Yelena chimed in, grinning, "You girls look so cool."
Clarice's face twitched slightly, almost breaking into a laugh, but she managed to hold it back, staying in character.
"Alright, enough with the act, Wanda. Look over there," Natasha said, covering her forehead as if she had a headache, but clearly amused. She gestured toward the prison below.
Seeing Natasha's expression, Wanda finally dropped her tough facade and flashed a sweet smile. The two had a close sisterly bond, and this was just one of their playful moments.
Realizing Natasha was getting serious, Wanda turned her gaze toward the prison, confused. "Are you planning to destroy this base? But Natasha, you could handle that on your own."
Yelena's eyes twitched at the nonchalant comment. The way Wanda said it made it seem like a trivial task, but considering Natasha's strength, Yelena begrudgingly admitted it was probably true.
"No, I'm here to rescue someone," Natasha explained.
"Got it," Wanda nodded.
Wanda, quick to catch on, understood Natasha's intention immediately. Under Yelena's curious gaze, she calmly walked to the edge of the snow-capped cliff, overlooking the prison below. Taking a gentle breath, her eyes glowed red, and a wave of crimson energy began to swirl around her.
Tendrils of red energy extended from her body like silken threads, spreading down toward the prison. In less than ten seconds, the entire facility was enveloped in her magic. Everyone inside the prison had glazed, vacant expressions.
"All done," Wanda said, snapping her fingers, completely at ease.
Yelena stood in shock. "What... what is that?"
Natasha ignored her sister's disbelief and simply replied, "The person we're looking for is called Alexei."
"Got it," Wanda said.
Within minutes, a large, burly figure emerged from the prison, trudging up the mountain. He was wearing clothes that resembled dirty rags, his face unshaven and haggard. Despite his unkempt appearance, the power in his body was evident.
"That was way too easy," Yelena muttered, her disbelief growing. Lately, everything seemed to defy what she thought was possible.
Natasha smiled, patting her on the shoulder. "It's that simple."
With a nod, Wanda dispelled the chaos magic, and Alexei's dull eyes slowly regained their focus.
When Alexei saw Natasha and Yelena, his eyes widened in shock and then flushed slightly red.
"Natasha, Yelena? Am I dreaming?"
…
Alexei never imagined that on such an ordinary day, it would feel like waking from a dream to see his two daughters standing before him. This rugged Eastern European man, tough on the outside but soft on the inside, stepped forward. Despite the disgusted and conflicted looks on Natasha and Yelena's faces, he stretched out his arms and pulled them into a hug.
With his large head wedged between theirs, he let out a shaky breath, his voice trembling, "Even if this is just a dream, I'm happy. Praise God for letting me see you now."
Natasha and Yelena were caught off guard by their emotions. But Natasha, ever the practical one, quickly broke free from the bear hug, pushing Alexei away with surprising strength. He stumbled back, a confused look on his face.
He glanced down at his arms, caked in mud, and then at Natasha, wondering, Did I not eat today? Or has my strength—once greater than ordinary men—somehow become weaker than my daughter's?
"This... you... I..." Alexei stammered, unable to find the words. Natasha rolled her eyes and turned toward Wanda and Clarice, who stood nearby, watching with amusement. She gently patted Clarice's head and said softly, "Thank you, Wanda. Clarice."
"Hee hee, Sister Natasha, is that your sister? Oh, she's very nice!" The little girl, clearly enjoying being patted on the head, grinned with her big eyes sparkling. She looked curiously at Yelena, clearly fond of her, especially since Yelena had been making funny faces at her just a moment ago.
Natasha glanced at Yelena, a complicated expression briefly crossing her face, but she nodded, "Yes, she's my sister, Yelena."
Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "They're also my family."
"Wow~~" Wanda and Clarice responded excitedly, as if they'd figured it out already. They weren't surprised—after all, it seemed Natasha had come back for her former family.
After confirming it, Natasha turned to the two girls and said, "Wanda, Clarice, why don't you head back first? I'll make something delicious for you later."
"Okay~" Clarice and Wanda agreed happily. Natasha's cooking, especially her desserts, always had a unique and delightful flavor.
Clarice waved her hand, opening a portal. Before stepping through, Wanda paused, as if remembering something, and turned to Natasha with a smile. "Go home early, Leon has a surprise waiting for you."
"Mm!" Natasha raised her thin eyebrows, intrigued by the mention of a surprise, though the warmth in her heart overpowered her curiosity. She nodded, watching Wanda and Clarice step through the portal, the purple cirrus clouds slowly fading away.
"Are they all mutants?" Alexei's voice came from behind.
Without turning, Natasha replied, "They're my family." Her tone softened briefly as she walked toward the plane.
Alexei and Yelena trailed behind, with Alexei chattering non-stop.
"Wow, my dear, you found a new family these past few years. It's wonderful! I just wish I could've seen that heartwarming scene. In fact, I've missed you so much during these ten years in prison."
"Alexei, can't you just shut up?," Yelena interjected, her tone dry.
"Ah, Yelena, that's so harsh. You should know I've had many dreams, and most of them were about you."
"Honestly? That's not sweet—it's creepy."
"Impossible! My Yelena could never hate me. Isn't that right, Natasha?"
Their conversation grew fainter as they climbed the snow-covered mountains, until the plane took off vertically and disappeared into the white clouds.
...
As night fell, the Southside nightclub on Queens Boulevard buzzed with life, its neon lights flickering in the darkness. The night was the perfect veil for all sins.
The club, styled like an old warehouse, pulsed with live music, flashing lights, and a sea of people. The restless energy fueled the crowd as they moved, losing themselves in the beat, the flashing lights casting an atmospheric, almost mysterious glow over everything. Under the colorful halos, men and women swayed together, their bodies blending into the rhythm, creating a chaotic, sensual dance that made the space feel like a psychedelic maze.
Every corner held a different vibe, with some guests fully absorbed in the moment. But no one realized that tonight would turn into a feast of blood.
In the corner of the club, a man dressed in a black trench coat sat quietly on a sofa, a long, wrapped bar lying beside him. He sipped on juice, his eyes fixed on the surging crowd, observing in silence.
At ten o'clock, the atmosphere reached its peak. A loud air raid siren echoed throughout the club, but rather than inciting fear, it fueled the mania. Regulars knew that this signal marked the start of the most intense part of the night—the music was about to hit its hardest. The crowd responded in kind, lifting their arms and twisting their bodies with excitement. Faces gleamed with wild energy, and the room grew even more electric.
Suddenly, a woman with a revealing outfit took the stage, her voice cutting through the chaos as she spoke into the microphone. Her slightly shrill tone echoed across the nightclub.
"The blood feast is about to begin! Let's enjoy this moment—enjoy life, enjoy blood, enjoy happiness!"
A strange cheer rose from the crowd as the music reached a new intensity. But the excitement masked the real horror that had already begun to unfold. Men and women, lost in the music, began to notice something eerie. Their dance partners, bathed in the shifting colors of the lights, stared back at them with bloodthirsty eyes, no longer companions in the night, but predators—hungry, waiting.
At first, a man thought it was just some kind of weird intro to getting laid, but the woman in front of him opened her mouth, revealing sharp, tiger-like teeth. A wave of terror surged through him, his heart racing with fear.
Then came the screams.
"Fuck! What kind of monster are you?"
"What the hell is going on?"
"Stay away from me!"
The warm, lively atmosphere of the nightclub evaporated in an instant, replaced by an icy dread. The crowd began to realize that the people they had been dancing with were now wearing bloodthirsty expressions, closing in on them from all sides.
Panic spread like wildfire. Faces once flushed with excitement were now twisted with fear.
Meanwhile, the man in the black trench coat, still seated in the corner, curled his lips. He adjusted his sunglasses and began to stand, it was time for him to begin the slaughter.
But before he could act, a deafening crash erupted from above. The ceiling shattered, sending dust, smoke, and gravel raining down. A figure fell through the wreckage, landing with a thundering impact.
As the music hit its climax, the heavy metal's frenetic energy filled the air, radiating a raw, adrenaline-fueled intensity. The guttural roar from the song perfectly matched the rhythm, adding to the electric atmosphere.
"I came to the river, waiting for midsummer's arrival.
The black swans formed a V, walking toward the grave with hope.
Through the fiery September sky, engulfed in flames,
I beg you to appear, like the dark thoughts of God."
The intense, violent sound assaulted everyone's ears, both the innocent nightclub-goers and the vampires with their sharp fangs and bloodthirsty eyes. But all their attention was drawn to the dust and smoke, swirling in the center of the dance floor, illuminated by flashing lights that hinted at a figure emerging.
As the haze gradually cleared, a tall and imposing figure was revealed. He stood over 1.8 meters, clad in a bright red coat, his muscular frame straining against the vest beneath. His ruggedly handsome face was framed by the nightclub's chaotic lights, but what captured everyone's attention were his eyes—burning like twin suns, fierce and unyielding in the dark of the night.
The figure crouched slightly, gripping a gleaming silver cross sword in his right hand. His very presence exuded a crushing sense of power, as if his body were a dormant volcano, ready to erupt at any moment. The vampires surrounding him, creatures of darkness, felt something they hadn't experienced in centuries—their dead hearts seemed to thrum with life again.
What was that sensation? Fear. Real, palpable fear.
The vampires couldn't comprehend it. They were the predators, the noble ones who fed on humans. So why were they suddenly afraid of this mere human, this insignificant being of flesh and blood? Yet, the feeling of looming danger weighed heavily on all of them.
Without a word, the bloodthirsty crowd ceased their hunt and slowly began to encircle the man. Even the woman at the DJ booth, her aura seething with malevolence, couldn't contain her rage. She grabbed her microphone and shouted, her voice dripping with venom.
"Who the hell are you? How dare you interrupt the great vampire clan's blood feast!"
The relentless pulse of the music seemed to irritate the man. His brow furrowed as he stood upright, turning his gaze towards the woman.
Boom!
That single glance was like a blazing inferno. The heat of his stare burned her to the core, as if it could incinerate her very soul. The pain was unbearable. Her once proud and beautiful face twisted in agony, her body trembling uncontrollably. But in that moment, overwhelmed by his power, she dared not utter another word.
Her lips quivered as she swallowed the words she had been about to scream—words that would have ordered the vampires to kill the man. Why couldn't she say them? Why did she feel as if she were standing before an ancient, higher-class vampire, even though he was just a human? Fear surged through her, a sensation that was both foreign and impossible.
Who is this man?
Her wide eyes were full of terror and disbelief. In that instant, time seemed to freeze. The entire club was silent, with all eyes locked on the man. The terrified patrons, those who had managed to survive the initial chaos, huddled together in a corner, too scared to make a run for it. The only exit was blocked by monsters—vampires, standing guard. Helpless, they pinned their desperate hopes on the stranger, hoping he was their savior.
In contrast, a man wearing sunglasses and a black leather trench coat sat casually on a nearby sofa, watching the scene unfold with amusement. He seemed in no hurry, as if he was enjoying the show.
As the final beats of the music began to fade, the man's burning gaze finally moved away from the woman on the DJ stage. She felt a moment of relief, but it was short-lived. Just when she was about to exhale, a sudden, sharp sound erupted behind her, cutting through the lingering silence like a thunderclap.
A wave of overwhelming pressure crushed down from behind her. The next moment, the cold edge of a silver cross sword rested gently against her neck. The blade was so sharp that she knew, with the slightest movement, her head would be severed from her body.
Her eyes widened in panic, and she stood paralyzed with fear. A single drop of cold sweat slid down her forehead, trembling with the same terror that gripped her heart. She didn't dare move a muscle.
She glanced down and noticed the eyes of her companions fixed on something behind her. She wanted to turn and see for herself, but she knew she couldn't. Any movement could mean instant death. The blade of the silver cross sword shifted slightly, grazing her neck. A thin red line appeared on her skin, the sting of the cut sending her heart racing.
Then, a calm, male voice spoke from behind her.
"So, beautiful Miss Vampire, would you mind telling me the location of your vampire headquarters? I'd love to have a pleasant little chat with your friends."
"You... who are you?" she stammered, trying to sound threatening. But the man sighed, almost as if disappointed.
"Old-fashioned threats don't work on me," he replied. "How about we make a deal instead?"
"A deal?" she asked, her voice shaking.
"If you tell me where the Vampire clan's base camp is, you don't have to die today."
Her throat tightened. "If... if I tell you, will you really let me go?"
"Of course," he said smoothly. "I wouldn't lie to a pretty girl. That would be terribly ungentlemanly."
After a brief hesitation, driven by fear, she caved. "It's... it's at Century Tower."
She wasn't even a true vampire—just a blood servant. The instinct to survive overpowered her loyalty, and she betrayed the location of the vampire base without hesitation. Whatever happened next, staying alive was her only concern.
True to his word, the man lowered the cross sword, stepping back. For a moment, she thought she might actually be free. But before she could fully relax, a gunshot echoed through the club.
The woman stared in shock as a gaping blood hole appeared in her chest. A scream of despair escaped her lips before her entire body began to ignite. From the wound, sparks spread quickly, consuming her in flames until she turned to ash.
The man didn't seem surprised. Calmly, he shifted his gaze toward the corner of the nightclub, where another burly figure sat. This man, clad in a black trench coat and sunglasses, held up a smoking pistol—it was clear who had fired the shot.
"Show no mercy to these filthy blood servants. Every one of them deserves to die," the man in sunglasses remarked coldly.
"Do whatever you want. These weaklings are yours," the first man responded with a hint of indifference. He wasn't angry, just mildly amused, as he glanced at the man with sunglasses, then turned away, gripping his silver cross sword and heading toward the exit. His real target wasn't these low-level servants.
The man in sunglasses frowned slightly but said nothing.
As the first man approached the door, the blood servants finally reacted. Their eyes, glowing with malice and hunger, locked onto him. They weren't going to let him leave that easily.
He sighed, as if annoyed by the inevitable confrontation.
Suddenly, his eyes sharpened with a deadly intensity.
A wave of terror rippled through the nightclub, freezing everyone in place.