London—under the night curtain of the Foggy City, neon lights still couldn't cover up the gloom seeping from the depths of its ancient streets. Especially within those underground catacombs and abandoned Tube stations that had existed for centuries, dark forces were stirring restlessly.
Deep inside an old cemetery closed to the public, timeworn tombstones leaned crookedly amid overgrown thorns. At midnight, icy fog oozed out from cracks in the burial chambers, accompanied by spine-chilling growls and shrieks. Suddenly, shattered coffins burst open from within—soil churning as swift, ghostlike figures sprang out one after another!
Vampires! Pale skin, blood-red eyes, sharp fangs peeking from the corners of their mouths, thirsting for warm blood.
At the same time, under the moonlight, bodies began to swell and morph—turning into half-man, half-wolf beasts brimming with savage power: werewolves!
This flood of legendary dark creatures poured out from their underground lair like a broken dam, lunging at unsuspecting night pedestrians. Screams and blood spread quickly through the old alleys.
The expert who dealt with supernatural threats Blade had already been waiting here for a long time.
Dressed in a black leather coat and wearing sunglasses (even at night), he held a specialized UV lamp in one hand and a submachine gun loaded with pure silver bullets in the other. Like a reaper moving through the dark, he efficiently harvested these monsters.
"Go to hell, you filthy blood!" Blade's voice was ice-cold.
The UV beam swept across—several vampires let out shrill screams as they turned to ash. Silver bullets howled, blasting open the heads of onrushing werewolves. His swordsmanship was just as superb; a tungsten-steel longsword flashed, cleanly severing limbs with ease.
However… the monsters' numbers far exceeded expectations.
They were endless, pouring out from all kinds of hidden exits. Blade was strong, but he was still only one man. Facing wave after wave of attacks, his ammo was dwindling, his stamina was dropping, and his movements were no longer as razor-sharp as at the start.
A werewolf seized an opening—its claws raked a bloody gash across his back. It wasn't deep, but it was an omen that danger was closing in.
"Damn it…" Blade spat a mouthful of blood, his gaze turning even colder. "If the lair isn't destroyed, these things will never run out!"
He tried to locate the main entrance and go for a decapitation strike—but he was tightly pinned down by a mass of monsters, unable to break away.
Just as the battle reached a stalemate…
A tour group wearing matching caps and following a guide waving a tiny flag arrived outside this famous ancient tomb site. Because their daytime schedule had run late, they'd come at night—even though the place wasn't open after dark.
And right there among the tourists…
Was Saitama.
He didn't care about London's historical ruins much. Mainly, he'd heard that the fish and chips around here were really famous, and joining a tour made it easier to find a good place to eat.
The guide was using an exaggerated tone to tell spooky legends when, all of a sudden, the distinct roars and sounds of fighting from deep within the cemetery made the whole group instantly stir in panic.
"W-What was that sound?"
"Is it special effects?"
"Doesn't seem like it… that's terrifying!"
The tourists shrank back in fear.
Saitama stood behind the crowd and yawned. He didn't feel anything about ghost stories—he just thought it was noisy, and it was messing with his anticipation for dinner.
Then, a few low-tier vampires and werewolves broke through Blade's interception and charged straight toward the tour group, their crimson eyes glittering with a thirst for blood.
The tourists let out terrified screams and scattered in all directions.
(End of Chapter)
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