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Chapter 85: You Read Hentai, Adam Reads Dracula
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The bleeding stopped. The wound was a blackened, sealed ruin.
At the same time, the mist-sprayer coated the cauterized area and the surrounding suit in a rapid-setting, bio-sealing polymer foam, forming a sterile, protective cap.
Dracula was inches away.
The four shield-arms slammed together, forming a single concave barrier.
Dracula hit it face-first with the force of a meteor. The impact echoed like a gunshot.
The shield held, spider-webbed with cracks, but the force blasted Adam upward. He flew, the two other mechanical arms' thrusters engaged, allowing him even more distance.
He stabilized mid-air, the four previously shielded arms transformed, letting go of their cracked shield, instead adorning blasters that instantly opened fire.
Dracula did want to pursue, but it was either taking the energy blast head-on or using his blood wings to shield himself, and that he did, sending him back to the ground with a deafening THUD.
[HE BURNED HIS OWN STUMP SHUT IN MID-AIR.]
[WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HIS PAIN TOLERANCE?]
[Ok, this is Bullshit. That's plot armor. No way a normal human can endure that.]
[Trust man, in Marvel, it's very much possible and there are tougher motherfuckers out there.]
[The suit deployed while he was falling and under attack! That was the coolest suit-up sequence EVER! Well, maybe not ever, Iron Man still SUPREME.]
[Adrenaline to stay conscious after THAT… Adam Cypher is not human.]
[Daredevil and the Punisher can also endure some horrific amounts of pain.]
[Dude, think Deadpool, isn't he in immeasurable pain always due to his condition? That's why he's so mentally unstable.]
[Let me do you one better, heard of Eshu? The caveman Eshu was captured by the unliving machines of a wrecked alien Plodex ship. What followed was an unending torture, as Eshu was subjected to an array of alien probing and experimentation, courtesy of the strange spaceship. The agony of the process caused him to go insane. His body was stripped of flesh, muscle, and tissue. His bones were scraped and every part of his body was distilled and studied. The only thing left intact was his brain.]
[You left out the best part, it happened over thousands of years, so yeah, thousands to tens of thousands of years of torture.]
[...] [Damn] [Adam had it easy, kinda.]
"Threat assessment recalibrated," Alice stated. "User stabilized at 64% combat efficiency. Suit integrity 100%."
Blade hadn't been idle. While Dracula was momentarily stunned by the impact, the Daywalker was a blur of motion.
He'd scooped up Adam's discarded silver-bladed sword from the wreckage of the old suit and came in from the side, a sword in each hand, a whirlwind of deadly silver.
He carved a deep gash across Dracula's back before the vampire could reorient, drawing a roar of pain.
Dracula backhanded Blade away with a whip of solidified blood, but the distraction was all Adam needed.
He erupted downward. The new suit was sleeker, darker, and menacing. The six arms settled into a ready stance around him.
He felt the phantom agony of his missing limb, a ghost screaming in his nerve endings, but the adrenaline and his own iron will boxed it away.
In its place rose a cold chilling focus.
He didn't speak. He only unleashed as much hell as he could muster upon Dracula.
Mechanical Force flooded the new arms, enhancing them. Each arm had a designated role, and they moved with a terrifying, independent yet perfectly coordinated intelligence.
One arm snapped forward, its end flattening into a wide, reinforced uncracked shield, deflecting a retaliatory blood-spear.
Another arm, from a different angle, fired a searing, concentrated UV laser that forced Dracula to dissolve a portion of his wing to block it.
A third arm sprayed a cloud of aerosolized garlic extract and microscopic silver particles, forcing the vampire to recoil, his senses assaulted.
Adam wasn't just a fighter; he was a battlefield control unit. He was the distracter, the harasser, the unpredictable variable.
He was, after all, aware of his own weakness. His body is weak in comparison to the enemy.
They aren't even in the same dimension. If Dracula reaches him, and bypasses his suit, it could be game over.
And Dracula can achieve that easily, for he had just shredded his left arm a bit ago, slicing it out through his protective armored suit.
Thus why his fighting style is so cautious.
He read Dracula's movements through Information Vision; the subtle tension in a shoulder before a lunge, the shift in blood-flow around a forming weapon, the flicker of intent in those hellfire eyes.
If it were just that, Adam's Information Vision wouldn't be considered an A-class ability.
Sure, the class system of [Information] is still not fully understood by Adam, but he's certain that any A-class ability is broken.
Information Vision not only reads all of the above, but it also reads the intentions and observations of others.
It makes it so that to be observed is to understand the observer; thus, any actions or observations against Adam are like a walkie-talkie, delivering all information to Adam.
He was always moving, the thrusters on the arms allowing for impossible, mid-air redirects, keeping Dracula off-balance.
And Blade was the executioner. Freed from being the main focus, the Daywalker became a specter of death.
He used Adam's distractions to land brutal bloody strikes. He fired silver rounds from his pistols into joint areas.
He flung consecrated knives that bit deep. He used the environment, kicking the dismembered, poisoned corpses of undead wolves into Dracula's path.
Tony Stark, from his god-like vantage point, provided surgical strikes. Repulsor beams, now calibrated to follow Adam's instructions as the latter read the vampire like a book, seared lines across Dracula's body.
Micro-missiles exploded at his feet, not just to damage, but also to disorient and disrupt his footing or attacks.
Dracula fought like a cornered arch-demon. He was a storm of claws, fangs, and blood magic.
He shattered one of Adam's new arms with a concentrated blast of blood. He backhanded Blade through a rotten tree trunk.
He summoned a torrent of bats that swarmed Adam, forcing him to spin all six arms in a defensive cyclone, shredding the creatures but consuming his energy and focus.
Yet, for every blow he landed, he suffered two. The poison from the truck was a constant drain.
Adam's Envy curses; Slow, Stupefy, Brittle, Misfortune, Recoil; layered upon him like a leaden cloak, sapping his legendary speed, clouding his strategic mind, making his immortal frame feel more fragile, turning luck against him, and rebounding a fraction of every injury he dealt.
He was burning through his vast reserves at an unsustainable rate.
It was eating at him to no end how every aggression would rebound, especially when he sliced off Adam's arm, he felt his own arm crack and bleed all over.
Alas, he is a vampire.
A battle of attrition was his specialty, but not like this. Not poisoned, cursed, and hunted by three relentless foes who perfectly complemented each other.
He glanced toward the eastern horizon. A faint, thin line of grey was lightening the black.
Sunrise.
Panic, cold and unfamiliar, slithered into his heart. He could endure silver. He could tolerate garlic.
Weaker vampires would turn to dust due to a touch of silver, not him. He is the king, and he could tolerate way more.
He could survive beheading and dismemberment with time. But the pure, cleansing fury of the sun? That was his anathema.
In his current state, it would reduce him to ash in minutes.
Reason told him how he should proceed, and it infuriated him. He had to finish them now, or he had to flee.
And the thought of fleeing from these worms, of letting them live after the humiliation they had inflicted… it was a poison worse than Adam's brew.
Rage overrode strategy. He became a berserker.
It may be that he's too prideful. It may be that Adam was too much of a menace. It may be because of the curses, dumbing him down.
It may be all of the above; either way, that was the decision he made.
With a shriek that split the air, he abandoned all defense. He took a UV laser blast to the chest to get inside Adam's guard, his claws ripping across the Null suit's torso plate, scoring deep gouges in the armor and throwing Adam back.
He ignored a silver slug from Blade that punched through his thigh to backhand the dhampir again, sending him crashing into a boulder.
He focused everything on overwhelming violence.
Adam reeled, alarms blaring in his helmet. "Suit integrity at 72%. Power levels dropping."
But he saw it. In Information Vision, Dracula's movements, while faster and more powerful, had lost their predatory grace.
They were frantic, desperate. He was telegraphing his exhaustion and his fear of the dawn.
Adam pushed forward, aggressive despite his injuries. He used a mechanical arm to fire a grappling line, not at Dracula, but at the collapsed stone chimney from the ruined lodge.
He swung around it, using the centripetal force to launch himself at Dracula's blind spot, another arm swinging a monomolecular silver whip.
It wrapped around Dracula's ankle just as the vampire was turning to eviscerate Blade.
For a split second, Dracula was anchored. It was all the opening Blade needed.
He surged up from the ground, his body a projectile, and drove his primary silver katana with all his might into Dracula's side, between his ribs.
He had aimed at the heart, but Dracula was no pushover, for even in desperation, he managed to move just enough.
However, he was still heavily injured.
Dracula roared, not just in pain, but in world-shattering fury and dawning realization.
This wasn't working. They were too resilient, too coordinated. This human, this Cypher, could read his every move as if his soul were an open book.
How? It didn't matter. It made him a threat that transcended the Daywalker, a threat that had to be erased from existence.
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