The blood rain will not cease until the night is over.
This was what Batman once said.
It was during a ti when he had to confront the army of the Blood Race with nothing but his mortal body, hiding in the darkness, speaking these words to himself.
Whether this was spoken arrogantly or secretly, few manage to escape from the blood-red mist.
And now, it is one in the morning, and the blood rain continues to fall.
When the pitch-black giant sword splits a body in two, the blood rain falls; when the sharp Black Stone pierces a heart no longer beating, the blood rain falls; when accompanied by laughter, little hands tear off heads, the blood rain falls.
The four individuals are completely enshrouded in the rancid mist.
"Ah, the last one, haha."
Satanah grabs a Vampire with broken limbs, pressing her palm against its forehead, a suppressed flash of fire appears.
She discards the charred headless corpse and returns to Deathstroke’s side.
The one-eyed man is gazing at the strange structure before him, alongside a woman dressed in black and green attire, similarly observing.
"Seems we all guessed wrong." Su Ming inserts the Great Sword into the ground, exhaling deeply.
"Yes." Hel kicks away the debris on the ground with her boot, looking down: "This is the vampires’ World Tree."
All four stand by a pitfall, beneath which lies a vast tower-like structure made of cent, steel, wood, and pipelines, forming an underground marvel.
It extends towards the Abyss below, surrounded by countless victims; its depths cannot be seen.
Countless humans are affixed to this giant tower, with plastic pipes connected to needles drawing fresh blood, channeling it into larger pipelines that extend downward.
These people are entirely naked, as if trapped in an eternal dream with their eyes open, turned into ’cows’ for the Blood Race.
"I’ll go take a look."
Su Ming said, as his cloak lifted him into the air, soaring across the bottomless dark abyss to land atop the tower and pick a person to observe.
A belt around the waist secures them, resting them against the spire, with needles draining blood from the brachial artery at a slow rate. Additionally, another needle connects to a transparent injection fluid entering their body.
Above them, a pipeline supplies liquid food, resembling corn paste, while below an attachnt for waste disposal suggests a urinal of sorts.
Su Ming manipulates the head of the livestock, inspecting the eyelids, then shaking his head. He returns to the pit’s edge, noting that the overwhelming tower houses tens of thousands.
"No hope, their brains destroyed, thoughts severed—these lives are worse than death." He briefly explains.
The vampires’ plan evidently comnced long ago; the surgery described by the novelist within the Dracula Hunter is accurate. The Blood Race has been performing cerebral operations on these individuals for years to amass victims.
Strictly speaking, humans are just experintal subjects here; eventually, the vampires will replace them with Inhumans or Mutants.
Su Ming had foreseen this situation, requiring experintation to verify feasibility before launching such extensive plans. He was rely surprised the site was underground in Philadelphia.
Hel conjures black smoke with a wave, and a corpse of a Blood Race with a massive chest cavity rises, eyes glowing green before her.
She listens to the silent whispers, then disperses the corpse into ash.
"You’re right, this process cannot be reversed." Hel shows no emotion; the deaths of Earthlings are irrelevant to her, none are Asgard Divine System’s believers.
The black-yellow helt recedes like a tide; Deathstroke retrieves a cigarette, offering it to Su Ming, who lights it for Palham.
"Hiss.. how many are here?"
"Just over twenty thousand." Hel divulges the intelligence she’s acquired.
"Where is the blood going?"
"They don’t know; among the hundreds of vampires we killed, none were leaders." Hel crosses her arms, answering calmly.
Satanah points to the spire, flashing a smile: "These people can’t be saved, so why not..."
Though brain-dead, their souls remain within, clearly the Daughter of the Demon has intentions.
"Their souls should belong to phisto after death, how dare you intervene?" Su Ming watches her, Satanah still carries greed.
"We’re allies, we can split the souls; the Fire Skeleton despises phisto, he won’t inform. As long as no one speaks of it, how will phisto know we stole from him?"
"You know about stealing? Mahjong?"
"It’s popular in New York, heard wealthy Stark brought the trend. When my shop has no business, so girls play; should Stark visit, at least there’s a common topic, heehee." Satanah smiles at Su Ming, shaking his arm playfully.
"These people I can’t save; it’s too painful to let them live like this. As for whose hands their souls fall into, it makes no difference to . You and Hel can split them."
Su Ming turned his gaze toward Hel, while Satanah happily kissed him nonstop. Just stepping out for a short walk, she gathered so much sustenance in less than ten minutes. How wonderful.
Hel maintained that cold expression, black mist enveloping her: "They have no faith in Asgard. I can’t take them, they’re all yours."
"Hehe, thank you. If there’s anything good next ti, I’ll call you."
Satanah put on a grateful face, but Hel didn’t believe a word of it.
Satanah didn’t expect Hel to believe her; naturally, she wouldn’t involve Hel in any beneficial matters. She just wanted to appear a bit more friendly; after all, she still needed Hel in the future.
She began chanting an incantation, casting a large-scale dark magic through a certain Demon God, releasing a group soul-draining spell. The cost would be borne by these livestock, just enough to kill them.
The people on the spire started to struggle. Even those in a vegetative state showed intense pain and fear on their faces. They spat out the tubes from their mouths, and incontinence caused the bedpans to clang, filling the air with a foul sll.
But soon, black smoke billowed from their mouths, and one by one, the blurry, translucent human faces gathered, intertwining like a thick smoke column. It was sucked into Satanah’s mouth.
Slurp, just like eating noodles.
The bodies devoid of souls collapsed one by one, hanging limply on the spire, gradually cooling in the winter night.
Hel glanced at her with disdain; only a little over twenty thousand souls, sothing that only a minor demon lord like Satanah would care about. As the Lord of the Netherworld with an army of billions of undead, these twenty thousand souls were as insignificant to Hel as Thor’s hamr.
Consuming souls, this oldest, most primitive thod originated from Set; it’s truly too inefficient compared to phisto’s slow and steady approach.
Even though Satanah resides in the main dinsion, the most forward-thinking lord of hell is still phisto, rumored to be making so TV show recently.
"Mmm~ ah..." Satanah pressed her body against Su Ming, emitting seductive nasal sounds, her whole body exuding the scent of female hormones: "I still want more..."
Su Ming smiled, pushing her towards Palham, and just as she was about to have a close encounter with Hellfire, she did a backflip to avoid it.
Looking at her now, her face no longer bore any trace of being imrsed in the afterglow of climax; she was quite clear-headed.
"Want more?"
"Tsk, you insensitive guy." Satanah turned her head, glaring at Su Ming with her hands on her hips, disappointed: "You and Hel are a perfect match, both like the living dead."
"Don’t drag into this; I’m not like you," Hel ignored the farce, as physical pleasure ant nothing to her; she had greater ideals.
Satanah picked her ear, unconcerned, and returned to Su Ming’s side: "Yeah, you haven’t been intimate with a man for tens of thousands of years, so pure, but hey, we are lords of hell, right? Can purity bring power?"
"Heh, what power can a male tool bring you? A bigger belly?" Hel retorted, her face showing a hint of sarcasm.
"Heh, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you," Satanah displayed a mysterious sense of superiority.
"Heh, bitch." Hel’s expression remained disdainful.
Su Ming paid them no mind, jumping straight into the crater, falling towards the darkness below. Palham followed, riding his horse down the cliff in an anti-gravity state.
Only the two won were left at the edge of the crater, staring at each other in cold silence.
Satanah glanced at Hel, then down below, pulling her coat tightly to cover her chest: "Is it my illusion, or are we seen through again?"
Hel shook her head and walked to the edge of the crater, descending along the cliff: "Does it matter if we are seen through? You wanted to test his attitude towards us; his attitude is just like this, we are rely tools in his eyes."
Satanah floated down beside Hel, holding her chin: "Seriously, that’s good news for you, not for ."
They exchanged so information while changing clothes; it was part of the planned strategy.
If Deathstroke showed any soft spots or sympathy for won, it would be imdiately exploited, but when the two beautiful companions quarreled, he just turned and left.
Hel was certainly pleased, because the last eting with Deathstroke was unpleasant; with him taking over as Supre Mage, Hel wanted to see his attitude toward her.
No need for the warmth of an ordinary acquaintance, just a non-hostile attitude sufficed; she found the current stance just right, not too close, not too distant.
Deathstroke held her secret’s weakness, and if it were ever exposed, she’d be in big trouble. Tyr wasn’t worth a personal endeavor; it was for herself.
But Satanah wanted leverage, and Deathstroke’s cold deanor was certainly not conducive to her grand goals. Her proud tricks rendered ineffective, she found herself at a loss.
She unexpectedly felt a trace of fear, an unsettling insecurity lingering in her heart.
Hel walked leisurely, manifesting a black spike to manicure her nails as she pondered: "Hamr and pliers collide; he doesn’t care. If a tool breaks, it can be replaced. To him, we can be replaced by others."
"It was truly a Secret Guest..." Satanah twirled her hair with her fingers.
"The Secret Guest is just his puppet; just consider him another lord of hell. Stop probing; it’s pointless."
Hel, with an all-seeing gaze, looked at Satanah one last ti before quickening her pace.
Reviews
All reviews (0)