The Priest, the Alien Species he had been hunting now materialized before him. This brought a brief, cynical moment of joy to the Vampire, who was usually softened by drink.
As the sole member of the Blood Clan Guard dating back to the last century, the Priest possessed a decadent Heart-Nature. Killing had lost its fervor over time; he now preferred the blurry illusions of alcohol. His position in the elite squad was secured purely by his extensive, accumulated experience, making him more of a tactical reserve than a frontline warrior.
But in this fight, experience was useless.
Silver bullets sprayed from his submachine gun. The Priest, an old master, ensured near-perfect accuracy—a feat only a seasoned marksman could pull off. Yet, against this opponent, the hail of fire was pointless. Aside from creating superficial, pus-oozing wounds, the dense volley had no effect.
The Alien Species charged, its speed shocking the Priest. He didn't have time to readjust his aim, so he swung the gun stock directly at the creature's head. The stock struck true but failed to deliver the expected damage. The ferocious Alien Species simply stiffened its neck, absorbing the impact, and in the same motion, swiped the submachine gun from the Priest's grasp.
Weaponless, the Priest felt a flicker of panic. However, his experience kicked in. Before the creature could retract its arm, he swung his fist, striking the Alien Species' sun temple. This was a lethal spot for humans and often effective against Vampires.
Against the Alien Species, it was utterly useless.
The fatal punch merely caused the creature to tilt its head before grasping the Priest's wrist. The Alien Species seized the Priest's neck and flung him with unimaginable power. The Priest's body flew like a rag doll across half the dance floor, smashing through a thin wall before collapsing.
The exaggerated violence instantly drew the attention of the Snow Man, who was nearby. He pressed his hand to the hilt of his katana and crouched, sprinting toward the Priest.
However, another Alien Species materialized, blocking his path. The Snow Man was trapped, watching helplessly as the first creature, agile as a monkey, vaulted the wall the Priest had smashed through. The Snow Man could only pray his comrade could survive, as he now had to focus entirely on the formidable threat before him.
Having witnessed the Priest's violent dismissal, the Snow Man was under no illusions that this was a routine hunt. The creature's raw power was astonishing.
This was a dangerous fight.
Stabilizing his Heart-Nature, the Snow Man initiated his attack. He shuffled his feet slightly, closing the distance to less than ten meters, then suddenly accelerated. A pure-blood Vampire's charge over this distance was like an arrow, unimaginably fast.
The Alien Species' speed was comparable, perhaps even faster. This surprised the Snow Man, but he remained calm. He was an elite warrior who lived and breathed the Dao of the katana—one of the few Vampires admitted to the Blood Clan Guard based purely on his skill with a cold weapon.
Drawing his longsword, scabbard and all, the Snow Man used the momentum of his charge to bring the sword down toward the Alien Species's head. The creature instinctively raised a hand to block, its five fingers hooking around the Snow Man's scabbard.
A look of mockery flashed in the Snow Man's eyes. He twisted his wrist and pulled, unsheathing the gleaming blade instantly. He spun, leveraging his own force, and the blade cut down.
Like a hot knife through butter, the blade met almost no resistance. Amidst the Alien Species' roar, a forearm fell to the floor, severed in the flash of steel.
The agonizing pain of losing its arm ignited the creature's full, feral rage. It roared, its mandibles splitting open into a terrifying, insect-like maw, petal-like tongues vaguely visible inside. It lunged at the Snow Man, airborne.
This was the lunge of a terrifying predator, a monster confirming that the Snow Man was not facing a mere animal, but an abomination.
At this moment, the Snow Man's Heart-Nature achieved a perfect stillness, like water. He was completely unfazed by the creature's terrifying appearance. Facing the lunge, he rapidly retreated, focusing entirely on the monster, silently calculating the diminishing distance. This total control was the hallmark of a master swordsman.
Under the Snow Man's calculated control, the lunge was ineffective, its massive kinetic energy harmlessly dissipated into the air and the floor.
Failing the attack, the Alien Species immediately looked up to reacquire its target. As it did, a flash of steel sliced through the air. Half of its terrifying mandibles and a small section of its lower jaw were cleanly severed, making its grotesque face even more hideous.
Taking repeated, serious damage, the creature's instinct screamed danger. It lunged one last time, an explosive, pain-fueled burst of hidden potential that startled the Snow Man with its speed and power. But fueled by rage, it lacked precision.
The Snow Man easily dropped flat, the Alien Species sweeping harmlessly over him. Knowing the danger of remaining on the floor, he sprang up with a quick carp flip. Even that brief delay was costly; a fierce wind whipped past his back.
Without turning, the Snow Man knew the creature had rebounded and lunged again. His battle instincts and memory of the terrain allowed him to deduce the creature's trajectory. His Heart-Nature remained steady, his blade cold.
He reversed his grip and thrust backward once. The thunk sensation confirmed a hit on a vital area, piercing the creature's stomach. A roar of pain followed.
Turning, the Snow Man delivered a sharp elbow strike to the Alien Species' chest, the recoil widening the distance between them. The creature was sluggish, the longsword impaled in its body. The Snow Man was relentless. A flurry of powerful, rapid elbow strikes drove the Alien Species back until it was cornered against a wall.
A moment of distance was created. The creature was wounded and weary, but its injuries, though grievous, were not fatal. This surprised the Snow Man, but he knew what had to be done.
It was time for the finishing move.
Accelerating, he leaped into the air. A three-stage aerial flying kick struck the Alien Species. The creature, too exhausted to dodge, could only endure.
The first kick struck the head, snapping its body backward.
The second struck between the shoulder and chest, the massive impact lifting its feet off the ground, sending it flying backward.
The third kick slammed into the hilt of the sword already buried in its abdomen. The force drove the blade deeper, tearing the internal organs, and with a final, echoing clang, the Alien Species was pinned to the wall by the katana.
The attack was devastating, the final blow deadly. The Alien Species emitted an unprecedented shriek, the sound of near-death agony.
Yet, the Snow Man's initial shock was warranted. The creature's vitality was horrifyingly tenacious. Despite being utterly crippled, it burst forth with an unexpected, feral strength. It shrieked, propped its remaining limbs against the wall, and began to climb erratically, frantically escaping into the shadows at the top of the wall.
The frantic movement tore its lower abdomen further open, spilling internal organs onto the floor. Still, it did not die. It vanished.
The bizarre, repulsive sight chilled the Snow Man. He pulled his longsword free, stared at the soiled blade for a moment, then spat, turning to run toward the Priest.
When he reached his teammate, the Priest was in dire straits. An Alien Species had its mandibles clamped open, tearing at the Priest's neck. The Snow Man could smell the blood, the gruesome reality that his kin was being consumed.
Tightening his grip, the Snow Man slowly approached. The Alien Species was alert, hearing the movement. It looked up, saw the foul, bloody liquid staining the Snow Man's blade, shrieked, and scrambled up the wall on all fours, vanishing instantly.
Clearly, having fed, it had no desire to engage the dangerous swordsman again. It chose flight over fight, a chilling display of animalistic instinct.
The Snow Man couldn't, and wouldn't, chase the unkillable monster. He looked at the Priest, who was still twitching, and spoke into his earpiece: "The Priest is injured! Repeat, the Priest is injured."
"Damn it!" Light Axe tore off his headset, convinced that his companion's distractions were why he couldn't hit the laughing Alien Species before him. Roaring, he brought his great hammer crashing down.