Bloodpack Casualties: 3

Mike's experimentation on the Reaper terrified it. If the holy mothers saw it, they might lecture him about humanity and curse him for his cruelty.

After all, the Reaper had not fed on them. It was easy to forgive on someone else's behalf, force others to be tolerant, and moralize from the high ground.

Come to think of it, Mike had only been an ordinary person in his previous life, yet he had almost seamlessly adapted, killing without the slightest hesitation.

Mike had considered that question too.

Perhaps it was an aftereffect of transmigration. This world lacked a sense of reality for him. He felt like he was a player and evil people were monsters in a game. Had anyone ever seen a gamer pity the monsters in a game?

Even though he knew everyone else was flesh and blood too, deep down, Mike always felt out of place.

Maybe he was just being pretentious.

Mike had not been a playboy in his previous life either, but perhaps he simply had not had the means to be one.

Heh. Men.

Not only were the Reapers surrounding Whistler and Scud stunned, but the two being surrounded broke out in goosebumps as well.

"Is that normal? Would a normal person do that?"

Whistler felt a chill run down his spine, but then he thought about it: Blade could only be considered half a person, while he himself had made hunting vampires his life's goal, so neither of them was normal. As long as they were hunting vampires, Whistler did not care what Mike did.

As for Scud, he was a hidden Vampire Cultist. His heart turned ice-cold, and he had a bad feeling.

At that moment, the Bloodpack caused a commotion inside the House of Pain, and many vampires ran out.

The moment they saw Mike, their eyes lit up. His blood gave off an enticing fragrance.

Mike looked at the dozen or so vampires closing in and sneered. "Hey, hey. My target may be the Reapers, but if you insist on courting death, there's nothing I can do about it."

To the vampires, Mike's nonchalant attitude was pure provocation.

A lowly creature provoking superior beings.

Unforgivable.

A punk-dressed vampire rushed forward first. In his eyes, the early bird got the worm.

One Sword Style: Bird of Prey.

The slash struck the punk vampire head-on, nearly splitting him in half. If he had been human, it would have been a fatal wound without question. Yet he merely collapsed in agony, struggling to stuff his spilled intestines back into his abdomen.

With some time, or an immediate meal of blood, he would recover.

"The sword is silver, but the slash it sends out does not carry silver's properties. It can't deal fatal damage to vampires. What about the Nichirin Sword?"

As he pondered, Mike stepped forward and drove his blade through the howling punk vampire, pinning him to the ground. The vampire stopped screaming and turned to ash.

Mike switched to the Nichirin Sword.

The sunlight-like aura radiating from the Nichirin Sword made all the vampires retreat in unison.

"What's wrong? Don't tell me you're trying to run. You want to run? Did you ask the ten thousand US dollars I spent? Be good and let me experiment on you."

One Sword Style: Great Dragon Shock.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Whistler felt an indescribable presence surge from Mike. Even the falling raindrops seemed to pause in midair.

The vampires looked terrified. They wanted to flee, but their nervous systems would not obey them, leaving them frozen in place.

One vampire was cleaved in two, then turned to ash.

One Sword Style: 36 Pound Phoenix.

The spiraling slash churned through the vampires like the blades of a whirlpool.

Aaargh...

The vampires turned to ash within the slash, forming a horizontal black vortex.

"The Nichirin Sword really is a divine weapon for exterminating vampires."

Mike sheathed his sword with satisfaction.

Not long afterward, Blade led his team out of the House of Pain. Just as in the original story, Priest and Lighthammer had been bitten, though Lighthammer concealed the fact that he had been bitten.

Bloodpack headquarters.

"How long has he been bitten?" Blade asked.

"Over twenty minutes," Reinhardt replied.

Priest screamed as his body convulsed nonstop. The virus was transforming him.

When humans were bitten by vampires, complete transformation generally took seventy-two hours.

But when vampires were bitten by Reapers, it took only about twenty minutes.

"Kill him!" Reinhardt ordered.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

Chupa cursed loudly. He and Priest had been close. They had trained together and hunted together. They had been just one step away from a perfect bromance and becoming true bros.

"Let me do it!" Chupa grabbed a submachine gun loaded with silver bullets and emptied the magazine into Priest.

"Idiot, that won't kill him."

If Reinhardt had not known Chupa, he would have thought Chupa was using the excuse to torture Priest.

"Haaah!!!"

Priest's jaw suddenly split open, revealing a flower-like feeding organ. Reinhardt was so startled that he drew his blade and sliced off the upper half of Priest's head.

Even so, with his brain split in two, Priest still did not die. Or rather, his brain had stopped functioning, but the rest of his body remained "alive."

The best way to kill a Reaper was sunlight. The next best method was to drive a silver blade through its heart.

Blade fired two shots through the ceiling. Sunlight streamed in and burned Priest into ash.

Then they began dissecting the Reaper that had remained stuck at the sewer entrance.

This was a Reaper with a spirit of self-sacrifice. It not only became the Bloodpack's cadaver specimen, but also exposed the secret of Reapers hiding in the sewers.

Nyssa said, "Reapers are nearly immune to silver and garlic extract..."

As she spoke, Mike suddenly drew his silver blade and slashed twice.

He left an X-shaped wound across Lighthammer's chest.

"What are you doing?!"

Including Nyssa, all the Bloodpack vampires aimed their blades and guns at Mike. Only Blade and Whistler stood behind Mike, confronting the Bloodpack with him.

As for Scud, he looked frightened stupid.

"Nearly immune to silver, is that right?" Mike pointed at Lighthammer.

They had just said Reapers were nearly immune to silver, had they not?

The Bloodpack froze before finally realizing it. With such a huge wound cut by a silver blade, Lighthammer should have turned to ash by now.

The Bloodpack members all moved away from Lighthammer and redirected their guns at him.

Lighthammer seized Verlaine, who was closest to him. His jaw split apart, and his feeding organ bit into her smooth neck.

Countless silver bullets poured into Lighthammer. They could not kill him, true, but they could still injure him, at least slowing him down. Then several ultraviolet beams struck him, burning him into ash.

"Kill me."

Verlaine and Lighthammer had been lovers. Her heart was likely dead with him.

Reinhardt fell silent for a moment, then quietly switched on the ultraviolet lamp.

Two Bloodpack members had died at once, and the atmosphere was heavy. Of course, Mike was not included.

He was even a little pleased.

"How did you discover that Lighthammer had been infected by a Reaper?" Nyssa asked Mike with a dark expression.

"The wound. The wound on his back looked as though a Reaper had hugged him." Mike demonstrated the motion. "Look, isn't that perfect for a Reaper to bite his neck with its feeding organ? And didn't you notice? The big idiot used his collar to cover the right side of his neck."

"Just that?" Nyssa asked.

Mike retorted, "Isn't that enough?"

Reinhardt asked in a deep voice, "What if you had guessed wrong? What then?"

Mike smiled. "I would have offered my sincere apologies to his ashes. But I wasn't wrong, was I? I removed a huge hidden danger for you. You should be thanking me, not questioning me. Damn it, I heard pure-blooded vampires at least understood a little propriety and shame. I shouldn't have had any hopes, should I?"

Nyssa said with a livid face, "You're right. We should thank you. I apologize for our earlier rudeness."

The remaining Bloodpack members stared at Mike as though they wanted to tear him apart and devour him on the spot.

But Mike did not care. His happiness was built upon vampires' suffering.