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Chapter 85: You Read Hentai, Adam Reads Dracu
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The bleeding stopped. The wound was a bckened, 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.
Dracu was inches away.
The four shield-arms smmed together, forming a single concave barrier.
Dracu 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 bsted 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 bsters that instantly opened fire.
Dracu did want to pursue, but it was either taking the energy bst 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%.”
Bde hadn’t been idle. While Dracu was momentarily stunned by the impact, the Daywalker was a blur of motion.
He’d scooped up Adam’s discarded silver-bded 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 Dracu’s back before the vampire could reorient, drawing a roar of pain.
Dracu backhanded Bde 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 pce rose a cold chilling focus.
He didn’t speak. He only unleashed as much hell as he could muster upon Dracu.
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 fttening into a wide, reinforced uncracked shield, deflecting a retaliatory blood-spear.
Another arm, from a different angle, fired a searing, concentrated UV ser that forced Dracu 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 Dracu reaches him, and bypasses his suit, it could be game over.
And Dracu 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 Dracu’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-css ability.
Sure, the css system of [Information] is still not fully understood by Adam, but he's certain that any A-css 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 Dracu off-bance.
And Bde was the executioner. Freed from being the main focus, the Daywalker became a specter of death.
He used Adam’s distractions to nd 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 Dracu’s path.
Tony Stark, from his god-like vantage point, provided surgical strikes. Repulsor beams, now calibrated to follow Adam's instructions as the tter read the vampire like a book, seared lines across Dracu’s body.
Micro-missiles exploded at his feet, not just to damage, but also to disorient and disrupt his footing or attacks.
Dracu fought like a cornered arch-demon. He was a storm of cws, fangs, and blood magic.
He shattered one of Adam’s new arms with a concentrated bst of blood. He backhanded Bde 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 nded, he suffered two. The poison from the truck was a constant drain.
Adam’s Envy curses; Slow, Stupefy, Brittle, Misfortune, Recoil; yered 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.
As, 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 gnced toward the eastern horizon. A faint, thin line of grey was lightening the bck.
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 kind, 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 ser bst to the chest to get inside Adam’s guard, his cws ripping across the Null suit’s torso pte, scoring deep gouges in the armor and throwing Adam back.
He ignored a silver slug from Bde that punched through his thigh to backhand the dhampir again, sending him crashing into a boulder.
He focused everything on overwhelming violence.
Adam reeled, arms bring in his helmet. “Suit integrity at 72%. Power levels dropping.”
But he saw it. In Information Vision, Dracu’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 Dracu, but at the colpsed stone chimney from the ruined lodge.
He swung around it, using the centripetal force to unch himself at Dracu’s blind spot, another arm swinging a monomolecur silver whip.
It wrapped around Dracu’s ankle just as the vampire was turning to eviscerate Bde.
For a split second, Dracu was anchored. It was all the opening Bde needed.
He surged up from the ground, his body a projectile, and drove his primary silver katana with all his might into Dracu’s side, between his ribs.
He had aimed at the heart, but Dracu was no pushover, for even in desperation, he managed to move just enough.
However, he was still heavily injured.
Dracu 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.
