Rex Viper followed the trail left behind by Blade all the way to a remote riverside, the kind of place where the city's noise died out and only the wind over the water remained. The ground was damp, the air cold, and the silence was broken only by the faint groan of something still alive.
The vampire elder lay pinned to the ground, his body trembling as a thick steel spike had been driven straight through his shoulder, anchoring him like prey on display. His strength was gone, but his eyes were still filled with fury and fear, flickering between defiance and the instinct to survive.
Hearing footsteps approach, Blade tightened his grip on the sword in his hand. His posture shifted slightly, every muscle ready to react, his senses locking onto the newcomer with sharp precision.
"Relax," Rex said calmly, raising one hand slightly to show he wasn't attacking. His voice carried a casual confidence that didn't match the scene. "I'm a vampire hunter too. Same side."
Blade's eyes didn't soften in the slightest. "Who are you?"
Rex tilted his head, then tapped the metallic mask covering his face. The design caught the faint moonlight, giving it a sleek, mechanical sheen. "You can call me… Iron Man."
Blade stared at him for a moment, clearly unimpressed. "Never heard of you."
Rex gave a small shrug, completely unfazed. "You've definitely heard of the guy with the devil mask. Calls himself Night Walker? He's a friend of mine. Same line of work." His tone turned a bit more theatrical as he continued, "Crime-fighting, justice-serving, vampire-hunting. That's all in my job description."
Blade's brow furrowed slightly as he processed that. Of course he knew the so-called devil-faced vigilante. They had crossed paths once, and the encounter had been anything but pleasant. That man had nearly tricked him, and his reputation afterward hadn't exactly improved.
"I heard that Devil Face started a fire that covered all of Manhattan in toxic smoke," Blade said coldly.
Rex waved a hand dismissively, straightening his posture as if offended. "Rumors. All rumors. That whole thing was orchestrated by Kingpin. The guy wanted to flood Hell's Kitchen with drugs and tighten his control. He's got politicians, cops, even media people in his pocket."
He let out a long sigh, shaking his head like a man burdened by truth no one wanted to hear. "People these days don't get real information. Everything they see is just smoke and mirrors."
Blade stared at him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, then shook his head slightly. "I don't care about that. Why are you following me?"
Rex stepped forward, extending his hand as if proposing a business deal. "I came to invite you. Join my team, and we take down Frost together."
The name made something flicker in Blade's eyes. He had been tracking Deacon Frost for some time now, following scattered clues across New York's underground. Recently, something had shifted within the vampire world. The balance was off, and it all seemed to point back to Frost.
Tonight's hunt for the elder had been part of that investigation. Blade needed answers, even if it meant taking risks.
"You know what's going on?" Blade asked, his voice lowering slightly.
Rex smiled faintly, as if the whole situation was almost predictable. "It's the usual story. Old-money purebloods clinging to tradition, blocking the rise of the ambitious mixed-bloods. And one of those mixed-bloods is ready to burn everything down to climb to the top."
He paused, then added with quiet certainty, "But you and I? We can stop him."
Blade's gaze sharpened. "The mixed-blood you're talking about… Frost?"
"Who else?" Rex replied without hesitation.
There was a brief silence as Blade weighed the offer. Information like this was exactly what he needed, but trust didn't come easy, especially not in his line of work.
"How do I know I can trust you?" Blade finally asked.
Rex didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked over to the pinned vampire elder, who was still struggling weakly against the steel spike. Up close, Rex could clearly see the fear in the elder's eyes—the kind that came from someone who had lived too long and suddenly realized it could all end.
People really were different. Some grew numb to death over time, while others became more terrified of it with every passing year.
Rex pulled out a small dagger, the blade catching a faint glint of light. Then, without warning, he began.
The night was filled with a sharp, muffled cry that was cut off almost instantly, followed by low, broken groans. The strikes came one after another, precise and deliberate. Rex stabbed again and again, each hit carefully placed—not a single one fatal.
One hundred and eight times.
Even Blade, who had seen more death than most, felt something tighten in his chest at the sight. It wasn't just violence—it was methodical, controlled suffering.
"Finish it," Blade said coldly, though there was a hint of urgency beneath his tone. "Kill him."
In the distance, faint sirens began to rise, cutting through the night air. Rex glanced up briefly, then seemed satisfied, as if some internal requirement had been met.
He yanked the steel spike free and drove it straight into the vampire elder's heart.
The body stiffened for a fraction of a second before collapsing into drifting ash, carried away by the wind.
Blade watched him in silence for a moment, then took the phone Rex handed over without another word. Without waiting for the police to arrive, he turned and left.
Rex removed his mask as he walked back toward the road, his expression returning to something far more relaxed. A passing taxi slowed, and he waved it down, slipping into the back seat as if nothing had happened.
…
By the time he returned to Emma Church, David was already waiting. Without ceremony, he tossed a stack of documents onto the table in front of him.
"There you go. Everything you asked for."
Rex flipped through the papers, and a grin spread across his face. Earlier, he had asked David to anonymously register a series of trademarks—names like Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, Black Widow, even Thanos.
If the timing was right, those names alone could be worth a fortune.
After setting the documents aside, Rex looked up again. "What about Marcus's phone? Find anything useful?"
David leaned back slightly, shrugging. "There's some data. Still sorting through it. You'll have results tomorrow."
"Good," Rex said simply.
After cleaning up, he sat down beside his bed, his posture straightening as his focus shifted inward. With a thought, he summoned the Ultimate Evolution Module and opened the silver-tier reward he had been saving.
A notification echoed in his mind.
[Congratulations. Reward acquired: Electricity Control]
For a brief moment, Rex's thoughts jumped straight to Electro—the infamous villain who had made Spider-Man's life miserable.
Then reality settled in.
The ability was… basic. Useful, but far from overwhelming.
First, it granted him immunity to electric shock. Even in the middle of a thunderstorm, he could walk around casually without fear. That alone was already practical.
Second, he could release electric shocks outward, generating bursts of lightning within a range of several dozen meters. It looked impressive—bright, sharp, undeniably cool.
Very cool.
But the output was limited. After just three uses, the ability would enter a recovery phase, forcing him to wait before using it again.
Rex let out a quiet exhale, his excitement cooling slightly. "Yeah… I'm going to need an upgrade card for this."
The next evening, his newly commissioned combat suit was delivered.
Hell's Kitchen really did have some talented craftsmen. Compared to what he had thrown together before, this was on a completely different level. Reinforced plating covered vital areas, the rest of the suit was puncture-resistant, and the overall design was lightweight and flexible.
The finish was clean, detailed, and sharp.
Across the surface, red and gold lines traced through the armor, giving it a distinct resemblance—about forty-six percent—to a certain iconic suit.
Once Rex put on the full set, mask included, there was no mistaking it.
If he called himself Iron Man, no one would question it.
Tonight wasn't just another hunt. Tonight was his debut.
David had pulled an address from Marcus's phone—an archive site used by New York's vampires. Rex sent the location to Blade, and the two agreed to meet there.
The place turned out to be a bar.
Even from outside, the music was loud enough to spill onto the street, bass thumping through the walls. Rex watched the entrance for a while, noting the steady stream of people going in. Some were clearly vampires, but others looked completely normal.
It didn't matter.
As long as the system marked them as prey, they were all fair game.
When Blade arrived, his eyes immediately scanned Rex from head to toe, taking in the suit.
"Pretty cool, right?" Rex said with a grin.
Blade paused, then replied flatly, "It's… not bad. Still not as good as me."
Rex snorted. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."
He turned his attention back to the entrance. "According to the intel, the vampire archives are in the kitchen. You head straight there. I'll handle everything else out here."
Blade hesitated for a moment. Normally, he was the one carrying the entire fight, the one pushing forward while others followed.
But before he could say anything, Rex had already drawn two pistols and kicked the door open, charging inside.
Gunfire erupted almost instantly, loud and relentless.
Blade shook his head slightly, then stepped in after him.
The lively atmosphere inside the bar shattered in seconds. Music cut off, replaced by screams and chaos. Blood splattered across tables and walls, bodies dropping one after another as bullets tore through the crowd.
And then there was ash.
Vampires disintegrated mid-motion, their remains scattering through the air like gray snow.
Blade froze for a split second as he took it all in. There were human bodies on the floor too, not just vampires.
If they weren't enemies, why were they dead?
Aren't we supposed to be vampire hunters?
Rex caught the look on his face and laughed. "Relax. Everyone I shot had it coming. If you don't believe me, check for yourself."
He reloaded smoothly, barely breaking his rhythm. "I've been doing this for two and a half years. Never killed the wrong person."
Blade didn't respond. He simply turned and headed toward the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Rex continued clearing the room, moving methodically as he eliminated every hidden threat. When he finally reached the kitchen, he saw that the refrigerator door had been pulled open, revealing a narrow passage hidden behind it.
Before he could step in, a loud crash echoed from inside, followed by a cloud of dust and debris rushing outward.
He pushed forward.
The first thing he saw was a massive iron door, now collapsed inward. Beyond it was a hidden chamber, its walls lined with sealed glass panels containing enormous pages—the remnants of the vampire scripture known as the Book of the Dead.
Near the doorway, a grotesquely large man lay slumped against the wall. He had to weigh close to eight hundred pounds, his body covered in fresh wounds, most likely inflicted by Blade.
Without hesitation, Rex raised his pistol and fired.
The bullet struck the man's heart, and his massive body collapsed into ash—far more than usual, drifting heavily to the ground.
Rex stepped into the chamber, his eyes scanning the rows of preserved pages stretching across the room like a field of dominoes.
He tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering in his voice.
"So… how much are these things worth?"
....
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