Dracula

The Throne Room, now turned into a battlefield, was a complete mess. Nearly all the furniture and decorations had been smashed to pieces; aside from the throne itself, there was scarcely anything left intact.

The carpet had long since been shredded, the broken chairs were worthless, the chandeliers overhead had all exploded, and the Vampires had been reduced to nothing but bones.

After making a few rounds, Su Ming went outside and removed several large stained-glass panels from above the entrance, preparing to take them with him. The windows gave off a soft glow like moonlight, so they might be valuable. He could have someone appraise them once they got back.

"Where are we going next?"

Hela watched Deathstroke work and spoke in a relaxed tone.

Deathstroke's abilities were enough to prove that he did not lack such things. Humans had a tool called currency, and he could trade it with others. But as though out of habit, Deathstroke always seemed to take something along the way. It was very much Asgard's style.

If they liked something, they took it. If the owner dared cling to it and refuse? Then they killed them. Hela found that approach very much to her liking.

"My helper read some memories from Giovanni's Symbiotes. We now know where Dracula is. Our King Vani had originally planned to make a move against the progenitor of the Vampires."

Su Ming stuffed the enormous glass panels into his backpack, leaving Satana utterly dumbfounded, her little face full of shock.

How could glass seven or eight meters tall and four or five meters wide fit into a tiny bag that was not even as large as a makeup case?

Hela flexed her fingers and returned the Sword of Night to the Underworld. "I've heard that low-ranking bloodlines cannot