Weiland Private Research Institute

Blade opened his eyes once again.

Even though he had been here several times and had grown accustomed to the environment, as a half-human, half-vampire, he remained vigilant every moment.

His hawk-like eyes swept over the surrounding ruins, brimming with ferocity. Red occasionally flashed beneath the dim lights—proof of his vampire half.

Above him, the words "Weiland Private Research Institute" hung over the dilapidated building before him.

The name looked suspicious at a glance.

Who knew what had gotten into the owner's head? He had set up a temporary base in an abandoned building awaiting demolition in New York City, then given it a name that made it sound like some high-tech research facility.

Just then, his ears twitched. With a swish, Blade instinctively reached for the two katanas on his back—weapons specially forged with silver.

"I advise you to put those weapons away. This is my territory. There are no vampires here for you to kill."

There was no emotion in the steady voice. A young black-haired man then walked over.

His delicate features showed that he was young, only in his twenties. At first glance, he seemed as harmless as a little white rabbit.

If one ignored the strange creature beside him.

"If you make your little pet back up a few meters, maybe I'll believe you." Blade paused before speaking, but he still released his grip.

Yet behind his sunglasses, his eyes remained fixed on every movement of the strange "pet."

The creature was roughly three meters tall. Its body was a sleek black shape, as though assembled from countless sections of human vertebrae. Its long tail, which seemed to contain immense power, swayed lightly. Its tip resembled a sharp blade and possessed tremendous piercing force. Its sharp claws dragged across the floor, easily carving long gouges into the ground and making Blade's eyelids twitch.

Most eye-catching of all was undoubtedly the creature's head. It resembled a bizarre crown, as though it carried some extraordinary significance.

Blade had never seen a creature like it before. Its entire body seemed born for the ultimate purpose of battle, like the wild fantasy of a genius screenwriter in some science-fiction work.

With his powerful vision, Blade also keenly noticed that compared to their previous meetings, the monster was now covered in much more unknown slime.

Duva nodded. Clearly satisfied with Blade's response, he casually studied Blade with an odd gleam in his eyes. His gaze traveled across Blade's body, lingering over his bulging chest muscles, long legs, and thick arms that looked ready to burst...

So beautiful.

Blade frowned, a flicker of instinctive wariness passing through his eyes.

There it was again.

That look made him feel as though this guy was not looking at a person. Blade had every reason to believe that this strange man had some very unusual tastes.

As though it had sensed the danger emanating from Blade, the peculiar creature beside Duva moved. Its tail lashed out at once.

So fast!

Blade's expression shifted slightly as he raised a hand and slashed.

With a clang, his palm went slightly numb from the impact. He knocked aside the creature's tail, his heart tightening.

Though he had not used his full strength, even with his power, he had failed to sever that tail as hard as metal in a single strike...

When Blade looked up again, he discovered that the monster standing beside Duva had vanished soundlessly. It was already on the ceiling above him, its long, pointed claws glinting with terrifying cold light, as though they could rip off Blade's skull at any moment.

"Sorry, occupational habit." Duva quickly made an apologetic gesture. "You know, I'm a researcher. Supporting a place like this alone isn't easy, so I inevitably have to devote all my attention to my work."

"This thing is strong. What's it called?" Blade was secretly alarmed, though outwardly he calmly watched the strange creature retreat soundlessly back to Duva's side, like a Ghost Assassin.

"Xenomorph," Duva answered.

"Interesting name. Looks like it's your research institute's finest achievement—a weapon of war."

Blade was well-traveled and experienced. He had spent his entire life battling all kinds of monsters, primarily vampires. Even a probing exchange was enough for him to judge the nature of the Xenomorph—and Duva as well.

He did not care whether Duva was a mad scientist. As long as the man could provide him with help, that was enough.

Duva neither confirmed nor denied it. Finest? Aside from its "egg-laying" ability, this Xenomorph would not remain the finest for long.

Thinking that, Duva took a deep breath and forced himself not to obsess over Blade's unbelievably muscular body. He then took out a briefcase. "This is the highly corrosive weapon you wanted—diluted, of course. Otherwise, only Adamantium could be used to make its container. In special situations deep in the night, this is more useful than ultraviolet grenades. At the very least, it'll kill your enemies quietly."

Blade fell silent for a moment, then pulled a bag from his coat and tossed it over.

"As agreed, one hundred thousand dollars," Blade said.

Duva whistled. "Are vampire hunters all this rich? Then again, killing vampires is an expensive business. Even the bullets are made of silver."

"None of it is my money anyway. The more vampires I kill, the more money I can take from those beasts." Blade had always been generous when spending money.

Money and goods changed hands at the same time.

"I'll find chances to promote your product. This highly corrosive liquid is very effective against vampires' super regeneration." With that, Blade carried the case and stepped back several paces.

Duva suddenly said, "If possible, bring me some vampires. Alive."

"Oh? Dealing with those things isn't a good idea." Blade looked at him in surprise.

"Can't be helped. Time is running out," Duva said.

Blade did not respond further, nor did he ask what that meant. He vanished into the night.

"Blade. Tch, that guy really is an obsessive crusader for justice."

Duva watched Blade's departing figure and shut the door again.

The vampires of the Marvel universe were quite interesting. Their origin was not Dracula or Cain, but a mage named Varnae, the first person to come into contact with the Darkhold. Using the Darkhold's power, he transformed himself into the first vampire.

And the author of the Darkhold was the renowned God of Black Magic, the deity who controlled Chaos Magic, one of the three primordial powers of the multiverse; a second-generation god of the primordial World Tree, above mass-produced third-generation World Tree gods like Odin, Zeus, and the Jade Emperor; and also the source of Scarlet Witch's power—Chthon, one of the four Chaos gods of the multiverse.

Anything connected to hatred, misfortune, or Black Magic bore, to some degree, the shadow of Chthon, that ultimate magical entity.

Still, there was no need to worry about that for now. Duva felt that as an ordinary individual beneath the multiversal dimensions, he could not even break free of the most basic timeline. There was no way he was qualified to draw the attention of such a big shot. For the moment, what he needed to focus on was making money from the relatively trustworthy Blade.

Blade, the vampire hunter renowned throughout the underground world, had been born after his mother was bitten by a vampire while giving birth to him, leaving him with half-vampire blood.

Unlike ordinary vampires, he did not fear silver or sunlight. He could walk beneath the sun as he pleased, which led vampires consumed by envy and resentment to call him the "Daywalker."

But he had weaknesses too. He needed regular injections of immunity drugs to keep his vampire bloodline from consuming him completely.

Still, Blade was relatively reliable. As long as someone was willing to give him the means to hunt vampires, he was happy to make a deal.

Duva shrugged. What could he do? He needed money. Trading a little Xenomorph blood for Blade's cash was only a temporary stopgap.

Ever since transmigrating into this Marvel universe, Duva had often felt anxious. This world—or rather, this universe—had far too many freaks and too many ruthless figures.

Fortunately, he had a Xenomorph by his side.

"I remember that before I transmigrated, Marvel had officially begun publishing an independent Xenomorph series. It was a purely high-tech world, without superheroes or anything like that..."

Duva counted the dollars in his hand, his thoughts drifting far away.

"Hiss!"

The Xenomorph beside him sensed the shift in Duva's thoughts. Though it could not know exactly what Duva was thinking, it was absolutely loyal to the man before it and still gave its response.

A Xenomorph's cries were never meaningless. Whenever it vocalized, it was surely expressing some purpose.

Duva smiled slightly and held out a hand. The Xenomorph obediently lowered its head, allowing the man to stroke its crown-like skull.

Man and Xenomorph entered the research institute and opened a hidden chamber. In the incredibly crude, simple basement—though an underground cave would have been more fitting, as if it had been gnawed out by a monstrously strong vicious dog—Duva slowly raised his head.

Five white eggs covered in slime came into view.