Traveling Together

Donnie slunk away, one hand tightly holding down the wig on his head. He was deeply troubled, feeling this couldn't go on. He had even begun seriously considering buying some hair-growth tonic; supposedly, that stuff worked fast.

The Old Bartender egged him on from the side. "I think you don't need to bring any UV grenades when fighting Vampires. Just stand at the entrance to the Night People Club, take off your wig, and reflect the sunlight to death onto those beasts. Simple, economical, and most importantly, effective. Works fast, too."

Donnie's face darkened. There was no communicating with the Old Bartender; they simply weren't on the same wavelength.

"Enough with the pointless crap. We need to prepare for tonight's fight. Let's get something to eat, rest up, and conserve our strength. Deacon is supposedly a very cunning bastard." Donnie was grave. Ideally, they would catch Deacon and kill him in one go tonight. Otherwise, they could only fight Deacon's backup forces to the death.

He wasn't worried about ordinary Vampires or the Ha-Ghost Clan. What worried him more was whether Deacon would become a god, and how far Deacon's plan had progressed.

A Blood God was an artificially created superior life-form. Silver weapons and sunlight would become completely useless against it. The Vampires' obvious weaknesses would cease to exist, and a Blood God could regenerate endlessly, recovering instantly no matter how it was cut apart.

Donnie had always suspected that the Blood God was an attempt to eliminate the Vampires' weaknesses—and that they had succeeded. Powerful regeneration, an immortal nature, immunity to sunlight and silver, immense speed and strength, along with possibly greatly enhanced infection capabilities...

If Deacon were released after becoming a Blood God, he would be an enormous calamity.

The two got back into the car. The Old Bartender went to a roadside store to buy some food and water. After eating and drinking, Donnie closed his eyes to rest, preparing for the battle that night. Tiny streams of AllSpark energy flowed out and spread through the five upgraded Transformers. Five was currently the number he considered most cost-effective. A few more could be added as cannon fodder, but he was still reluctant to squander the AllSpark's energy recklessly.

Donnie had already discovered that the AllSpark's total energy was slowly increasing as well. It was as though a bottle had cracked, but as long as the water inside had not yet reached the break and spilled out, it was no great concern. The bottle's damage had not yet completely locked down the growth of his power in the short term.

"Level 4 Mutant..." Donnie murmured. Everyone said the terrifying fluctuations he displayed when he awakened had reached Level 4. The power that erupted at the instant of awakening was second only to the two Mutant poles, so anyone with the relevant detection equipment said he was Level 4.

But what kind of strength actually counted as "Level 4"? Level 4 Mutants were rare, but not that rare. The most famous were undoubtedly the two Mutant poles, Professor X and Magneto. Others included Gambit, Shaw, Apocalypse, and so on. They were all Level 4.

Take Professor X, for example. His psychic control was simply unreasonable, but with that special helmet that blocked telepathy, Donnie suspected even some weakling with a small knife could kill Professor X.

In theory, Professor X and Donnie were somewhat similar in one respect. Both could fight by controlling large-scale forces. One controlled people, while the other controlled Transformers. The only difference was that the professor refused to do so out of morality and personal conviction.

"Born Level 4, yet not having reached Level 4..." Donnie closed his eyes, then slowly opened them. He seemed to understand what path he should take in the future.

When he fought Abomination, it could be said that he had undergone a burst of power once—the only time. It left deep wounds on his AllSpark, and at the terrible price of burning the AllSpark, he severed Abomination's head. Just as Level Five Jean had part of her primary personality erased every time she used the Phoenix Force, the price of such an outburst was far, far too great. One had to walk the line between life and death, and the cost was enough to take a lifetime to repay.

When he killed Abomination, had his AllSpark strengthened Optimus Prime's material? Or perhaps... Spark Energy itself was a kind of external enhancement?

Donnie sighed softly. The AllSpark in his mind still flickered on and off as usual, constantly pulsing. Donnie could sense that the AllSpark was absorbing stray particles from the outside world, using them as fuel to steadily recover.

Time quietly passed. As Donnie and the Old Bartender rested with their eyes closed, the sun set and darkness descended.

Pedestrians hurried home. Local rumors said that ghosts appeared at night, specifically hunting lone passersby. If people wanted to keep themselves and their families safe, they should not go out after dark.

Donnie and the Old Bartender opened their eyes almost simultaneously. The moon hung high overhead, and the night was still and desolate—a perfect time to wipe out Vampires. Donnie glanced at the Old Bartender in surprise. This old man was exceptionally sharp, and judging by the way he silently arranged his weapons and gear, he was clearly an old hand with guns.

It seemed this old man truly was skilled in all sorts of things. By accident, Donnie had tied up quite an extraordinary helper...

The Old Bartender noticed his gaze and looked up in surprise. "What is it?" As he spoke, he skillfully fastened a row of UV grenades around his waist, then secured several small silver knives to his legs.

"Nothing. I just suddenly felt... that this old bastard occasionally has his reliable moments. Rare indeed..." Donnie smiled.

The Old Bartender curled his lips. He had every reason to be proud. After spending more than half his life on the run and surviving countless open attacks and hidden schemes, many of his skills had been learned by himself or acquired through battles between life and death.

He followed Donnie out of the car, watching the young man walking ahead of him. This kid still carried a trace of youthfulness, yet was maturing at a rapid pace. Perhaps he would make a pretty good teammate. At least there was no need to worry about him dragging them down. Sometimes, he even gave people an inexplicable sense of reassurance...

The night was quiet as several figures silently lay in wait.

To their surprise, another person had chosen tonight to make a move as well.

He was a tall, burly man. His upright frame and savage muscles made him look like someone not to be trifled with at first glance. Two Japanese swords were strapped to his back, grenades hung at his waist, and he held a customized firearm as he slowly approached Donnie.

"Enemy or ally?" Donnie narrowed his eyes. The newly forged Spark battle armor covering his body was already primed to strike.

The Old Bartender silently raised his gun and disengaged the safety.

"A colleague. Like you, I came to slaughter Vampires."

The burly man strode over openly, slowly removed his sunglasses, and revealed a striking set of gleaming white teeth. Among his upper and lower rows of teeth, four were especially long and sharp, glaringly conspicuous.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Blade. The Vampires call me the Daywalker. I've been waiting for you for a long time. When it comes to killing Vampires, we're colleagues." Blade flashed his white teeth. In the darkness, they seemed brighter than Donnie's bald head.