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Chapter 84: Adam Tastes Heavenly
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Thus, his gaze fell on Adam, the architect of his humiliation. “Oh, I will start with you. I will keep your consciousness alive in a jar to witness the ruin I visit upon your world.”
He launched himself in a straight, terrifying line. Adam saw the information stream; attack vector: high-right, target: cervical spine.
He commanded his two remaining arms to intercept, bolstered by the last dregs of chanical Force. Blade moved to flank, his sword aiming for Dracula’s heart.
It was a feint.
At the last possible nanosecond, Dracula’s trajectory changed. He dropped, slid beneath the chanical arms, and his hand, fingers elongated into black talons, lashed out not at Adam’s neck, but at his extended left side.
The talons, hardened with centuries of death and empowered by blood magic, t the enhanced alloy of Adam’s exosuit fra.
There was a shriek of tearing tal, a spray of hydraulic fluid, and a sickening, wet crunch.
Adam gasped, a shock of white-hot pain blasting through his system. He looked down.
Yet he smiled, for even as the pain reached his brain, he didn't stop. He elegantly tapped the ground, stepped away as Blade attacked Dracula from behind.
The remaining chanical arms turned, lighting up, and releasing a burst of energy so powerful that they not only sent him further away, but the energy also fell upon Dracula, who had turned to confront Blade.
It scissored through his back, and if that wasn't enough, despite Dracula's speed, Adam managed to react fast enough to leave a UV grenade behind.
There was a flash, along with sizzling, as Blade nailed a silver dagger into Dracula, seeking to also stake him through the heart, only for the vampire to dissolve.
Dracula's body dissolved impossibly into sothing much smaller, a bat that flapped and vanished, appearing far away, Dracula sliding back due to the velocity, on his knee, with a grin on his face.
He stood up, pulling out the sizzling silver dagger from his chest, throwing it to the side, lifting his other hand, in which was a bloody arm, the chanical parts on it crumbling to show its state.
It was Adam's arm.
Indeed, Dracula managed to take Adam's left arm with him.
Adam's arm, from the shoulder down, was gone. Not the chanical appendage, but his own biological arm, severed cleanly.
It lay now on Dracula's hand, fingers appearing as if twitching. Blood; his blood; fountained from the ruin of his shoulder, staining the ground a vivid, shocking red.
Dracula stood there nacingly, holding the severed limb aloft like a grisly trophy.
Adam’s own blood dripped onto the vampire’s pale face. Dracula’s eyes, burning with hellish triumph and insatiable bloodthirst, locked onto Adam’s.
He brought the severed end of the arm to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste.
A slow, horrific smile spread across his face.
[NO! NO! NO!]
[Adrenaline's running! Blood's pumping! That was so fucking cool.]
[So much blood, I knew Adam wouldn't be unscathed, the writer is a fucking sadist!]
[True, if this ungodly show has a writer, he must be a sadist!]
[Cinema!] [I love the sadism!]
[Give so more gore and blood, and I'm climaxing! Keep it up!]
[Peak!] [ 1] [ 1] [ 1] [ 1] [ 1]
[Guys, guys! I can't handle it, the show is so peak my rod is peaking!]
[...] [???] [So much glaze.] [...]
The world narrowed to a tunnel of crimson pain and the grotesque spectacle before him.
Adam’s vision swam, his body screaming a biological alarm of catastrophic damage.
The body's natural response to extre injuries, even though he's used to pain, he couldn't stop it, but he resisted and acted swiftly.
His remaining two chanical arms retracted, the claw-tips planting into the earth and scuttling him backward like a wounded insect, putting precious yards between him and the nightmare.
Blade took place in between to protect Adam.
Dracula stood illuminated by the pale moonlight, holding the severed limb aloft.
He brought the ragged, bloody end to his nose, inhaling deeply, a connoisseur sampling a fine vintage.
A dark, ecstatic light glowed in his eyes. “Ahhh… the vitality,” He murmured, his voice thick.
“The flavor. Not just human. Sothing more… synthetic, yet divine. Ahh, yeah, you are a mutant.”
Then, with deliberate, horrifying slowness, he opened his mouth, his canines elongating further, and took a bite from the at of the forearm.
The sound of tearing flesh was obscenely loud in the sudden silence.
[I’M GOING TO BE SICK.]
[Tf? Dracula is actually scary!]
[This is a level of body horror I was not prepared for.]
[Adam's arm must be so delicious. I'm envious.]
[...] [?????] [Why is everyone suddenly a sadist, even the writer?]
Blade leaped back further, and landed in a crouch beside Adam, his own body a testant to the brutal exchange.
His eyes flicked from the feasting Dracula to Adam’s stump, where blood pulsed out in a weakening rhythm.
“Cypher,” Blade growled, his voice taut. “Can you move? Can you fight? We stop now, he feeds, he recovers. We’re dead.”
Adam’s face was parchnt-pale, slick with cold sweat. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscles stood out like cables.
But his eyes, one human and one whirring cybernetic, held not despair, but a terrifying focus.
The pain was a distant fire; he acknowledged it as a tickle in the back of his mind... It was rejuvenating. It woke him up.
“We... We Don’t Stop... Till he's down,” Adam managed, his eyes chillingly calm. Then he looked skyward. “Alice. Phoenix Protocol. Now.”
His two remaining chanical arms retract further, transford into thrusters; then they launched him.
Thrusters at their base ignited with a sharp crack-whine, throwing his body vertically into the air just as Dracula, finished with his morbid appetizer, hurled the gnawed bone away and lunged, claws extended for the kill.
The vampire king shot by the space Adam had occupied, his snarl of fury cut short by Blade, who wouldn't allow him to act freely.
Dracula had to twist in mid-air, blood-wings forming to halt his montum, back up, and look up.
Adam was in a freefall, the ruined Null-Suit; the one that had lost many arms, detaching from his body in sections.
Chestplate, leg guards, the mangled arm housing, all unclicked and rained down toward the forest floor, leaving him in a simple, blood-soaked undersuit.
From the darkened tree line to the east, where the truck had been parked before its final journey, sothing else shot through the air.
It was a compact, V-shaped core of polished black tal, about the size of a heavy backpack.
Trailing behind it like the legs of a robotic spider were six pristine, folded chanical arms.
It reached Adam just as Dracula, recovering with preternatural speed, coalesced a dozen blood-javelins and hurled them upward in a spiraling death volley.
Adam’s Information Vision painted the trajectories in glowing, evasive paths.
In freefall, with no thrust, his options were zero. But he didn’t need to dodge.
The V-shaped core slamd into his back with a resonant THUD. Magnetic clamps engaged, securing it along his spine.
As the blood-javelins arrived, the six new arms; each thicker, more heavily articulated, and sheathed in a non-reflective composite; unfurled in a blindingly fast defensive bloom.
Four of them moved in a coordinated blur, their ends morphing into circular, energy-diffusing shields.
The blood-javelins shattered against them, exploding into fetid mist, and that almost shot him far back.
The other two arms, however, snaked down, claws seizing Adam’s torso gently, stabilizing him.
“Null suit engaged. User biotrics critical,” A calm, female voice; Alice; intoned directly into Adam’s auditory implants.
“Severe hemorrhaging detected at the left shoulder. Protocol mandates imdiate evac and surgical...”
“Override,” Adam inhaled, allowing himself to fall, the ground rushing up. “Cauterize the stump. Full adrenaline cocktail. Stabilize and keep in the fight.”
“The risk of systemic shock, cardiac arrest, and neurological damage exceeds 52% with on-field cauterization,” Alice replied, her tone devoid of emotion, but the words urgent.
“Do it. That’s an order. If I pass out, use the ergency procedures.”
As the final pieces of the new suit flew from the core; form-fitting plates of armor snapping onto his limbs and torso.
A sleek hooded helt deploying from the collar to encase his head; two of the chanical arms holding him changed function.
One extended a precision laser emitter. The other produced a fine-mist sprayer.
Dracula, seeing his prey seemingly helpless, ignored Blade and surged upward on wings of blood, his maw open wide for a finishing bite at Adam’s neck.
The Cauterizing process started, seemingly baked into the suit as a chanism from within touched the ravaged flesh and bone of Adam’s left shoulder.
There was a hiss like bacon on a griddle, and the sll of burnt at and blood filled the air.
Adam’s body went rigid. A soundless scream was trapped behind his clenched teeth, his eyes wide behind the helt’s visor.
The adrenaline injectors in the suit’s inner lining fired simultaneously, flooding his system with an artificial rush, forcing his heart to pound like a war drum, forcing his brain to stay online through a tsunami of shock.
The bleeding stopped. The wound was a blackened, sealed ruin.
At the sa ti, the mist-sprayer coated the cauterized area and the surrounding suit in a rapid-setting, bio-sealing polyr foam, forming a sterile, protective cap.
Dracula was inches away...
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