"What exactly are you thinking, pal?" Josh asked, leaning over the workbench. He was a wiry guy with quick fingers, famous for customizing anything with an engine or a trigger, and he had been modifying weapons for Blade since the old hunter, Whistler, had been captured.
"Sounds like a good idea!" Blade answered dismissively, his attention fixed on the customized silver stakes he was loading into a wrist mechanism.
Whistler, limping slightly but frowning in concern, approached. "What's your real plan? These creatures are not exactly known for their trustworthiness."
Blade finally put away his equipment and snapped on his gloves, his gaze meeting Whistler's. "The truth is, once they see an opening, they will definitely try to bite us, bite us to death."
Josh threw his cigarette butt onto the concrete floor, his eyes wide. He had a strange habit of touching his lower lip with a finger when he was agitated. "So, we won't agree to this cooperation, right?"
"We'll string them along," Blade replied, the barest hint of his fangs showing. "We'll use this opportunity to infiltrate their organization and understand their true intentions. After this Alien Species problem is resolved, then I'll deal with them!"
"That's the kind of thinking I like, pal!" Josh cheered, punching Blade lightly on the arm. "Imagine my darling (referring to his modified weapons) dealing with these smug guys—it'll be awesome!"
"I already know enough about these creatures," Whistler said, leaning on the stairs as he slowly descended. "They must be terrified. Losing their self-proclaimed position at the top of the food chain is likely making them furious and unstable."
Watching Whistler's slightly odd gait, Josh whispered conspiratorially to Blade, "Honestly, pal, I'm worried about him. I know you two are tight, but you still need to be careful. You know nobody comes back from a Vampire transformation in one night." Josh then immediately left, satisfied he had delivered his necessary warning.
Whistler had been captured two years prior. Due to his status as a legendary Vampire hunter and Blade's mentor, the Vampires had inflicted both physical and extreme psychological torture, eventually turning him into the very monster he had hunted. Blade had rescued him and administered a reversal antidote, but the long-term effectiveness was still uncertain, despite Whistler currently being able to tolerate the sun.
"He's right, you know. They are no longer the top predators." Zhou Yi, the Dawn Knight, slowly floated down from the high rafters of the factory, settling silently onto the concrete floor.
Blade didn't react with surprise. A man who can fly is impossible to contain. He simply asked, "So? Any clues?"
"Yes," Zhou Yi confirmed, his voice clear. "They are expanding quickly, but they are deliberately avoiding exposure. I saw only signs of swift, clean attacks, with nothing left behind. I'm curious how our 'Vampire teammates' intend to ensure they can find these targets."
"Maybe they have a secret recipe to lure out rats," Blade offered a joke with a cold face, though neither of them smiled. The problem of the Alien Species weighed heavily on them. They were fighting an unknown enemy controlled by unknown powers, and the potential fallout for humanity was catastrophic.
Time slipped away quickly. The final rays of the sun vanished, and the night descended, stirring the nocturnal races.
Zhou Yi stood silently on a high platform, his armored figure waiting. He was connected to the NYPD surveillance grid, hoping to extract any clues about the Alien Species from their data streams. Meanwhile, Blade had retreated to a back room. He needed to manage his daily feeding urge. As a Daywalker, he retained the Vampire's need for blood, which he usually controlled with sheer willpower and medication. The craving was a constant, terrifying condition; to succumb was to become a monster.
Princess Nysha Makinos led a group of stern-faced Vampires into Blade's grim stronghold. They were allies only in the most cynical sense.
Nysha immediately spotted the Dawn Knight but ignored him. She addressed Blade's assistants instead.
"I have brought the Blood Clan Guard as agreed. Where is the Daywalker?" They preferred the title 'Daywalker,' as it was a grudging recognition of his quasi-Vampire status, even if he was a traitor to the bloodline.
Whistler, immersed in his welding, ignored her entirely. Josh, smoking, offered a mischievous grin. "Beautiful, if you're looking for that pal, I suggest the factory office upstairs. By the way, I am—"
Nysha walked straight past him, heading for the upper office. The Blood Clan Guard behind her erupted in laughter.
"You're welcome!" Josh shrugged good-naturedly, unbothered by the ridicule.
Soon, Nysha returned, followed by Blade, who now looked composed and medicated.
"Allow me to introduce you to our Blood Clan Guard," Nysha stated, pointing first to a couple openly embracing. It was a bald, heavily tattooed, muscular man holding a massive axe, and a female Vampire with bright red hair affectionately stroking his bare torso.
"Light Axe, Weilian..." As she spoke their names, the two Vampires simultaneously raised their heads, baring their fangs at Blade—a seamless, predatory motion.
Nysha continued, pointing to the others.
"This is Priest." A male Vampire with long, flowing hair, dressed like a gentleman from the previous century, bowed politely to Blade with his hand over his chest.
"Snow Man!" A cold-faced Vampire with an Asian appearance quickly drew the katana from his waist, delivered a brilliant flash of light, and immediately sheathed it again, bowing like a warrior.
Finally, she pointed to a burly, disgruntled man in partial chainmail—who looked like a western farm brute—and the bald man next to him.
"And Chuba, and the Captain of the Guard, Rehart."
Hearing his name, Rehart puffed out his chest and walked toward Blade, addressing the hunter only with palpable disdain.
"Hey, our group has a serious question about you," Rehart said, pointing to his squad, then covering his mouth with a hand in a gesture of fake secrecy. "Do you ever blush?"
Rehart leaned in and delivered the question into Blade's ear, prompting the Blood Clan Guard to erupt in loud cheers.
Rehart's challenge was a calculated insult. He wasn't mocking Blade's skin color; Vampires judged based on bloodline, not race. The real question was whether Blade, their mortal enemy, was worthy of leading them against the Alien Species. They were following orders, but they had no internal respect for the Daywalker.
Blade smiled, glancing up at the Dawn Knight, who nodded subtly. Blade then slowly circled Rehart.
"I understand your meaning," Blade said. He suddenly moved, delivering a sharp punch directly into Rehart's gut, forcing the captain to instinctively double over.
Blade immediately followed with a ferocious, sideways whip kick aimed squarely at Rehart's head. The force was bone-shattering; if it connected, even a pure-blood Vampire would require substantial facial reconstruction.
Rehart, an elite warrior, reacted instantly. He dropped onto one knee, forcibly snapping his torso upright, allowing Blade's kick to whistle past his face by a hair's breadth. Missing the first strike, Blade quickly twisted into a second whip kick.
Rehart was better prepared this time, raising his arms to absorb the blow. Amidst the faint sound of cracking bone, he used the recoil to launch his body upward, driving his knee toward Blade.
To sacrifice a minor injury to regain balance and launch a counterattack in the span of a second demonstrated the impressive fighting caliber of the Blood Clan Guard.
But Blade was more than just a skilled fighter; he was a unique, supernaturally enhanced mutant—faster, stronger, and more powerful than even a pure-blood Vampire. Engaging the force of an armored leg with two arms is a desperate gamble, a gamble that only works when the power disparity is overwhelming.
And unfortunately for Rehart, Blade's power was just that absolute.