Chapter 142: Allen Nearly Snapped His Fingers

Chapter 142: Allen Nearly Snapped His Fingers

In the sky, Dracula was battling the purebloods.

Allen watched with his head tilted back, not the least bit worried about being dragged into the fight.

"Should we fall back for now?" Marianne asked anxiously.

"What are you scared of? You're a vampire hunter."

Allen remembered she was a descendant of the Van Helsing family, sent here specifically to hunt Dracula. So why the sudden cowardice?

"I'm not fully prepared."

After a thousand years, Dracula probably no longer held any deep grudge against the Van Helsings. Marianne wasn't about to gamble her life on it—she was a wealthy heiress with a vast inheritance, and dying young before she got to enjoy it would be a terrible deal.

"You make it sound like I'm fully prepped or something."

Allen puffed up with confidence. "I'm not scared, so you definitely don't need to be."

"I'm out."

With that, Marianne fled into the streets of Gotham.

Watching her retreating figure, Allen scoffed in disdain. "Heh… vampire hunter? More like getaway hunter."

The Van Helsing line had declined generation after generation, long since losing the conviction of their forebears.

In a modern world ruled by materialism, few were still willing to become monster hunters. And the Van Helsings had always targeted one specific prey—not every generation got the chance. Over time, the mission lost importance.

If S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't come knocking, Marianne wouldn't have bothered with this mess. She'd rather be sunbathing on the Aegean Sea.

Most who chose to hunt monsters did so because their loved ones had been killed, driven by vengeance into a never-ending pursuit.

Thud. Thud!!

Two bodies plummeted from the sky.

They were bloodline barons—each with a gaping hole where the heart should be. Clearly, Dracula had crushed them barehanded.

Crash!

A vampire count slammed into the ground. His limbs were grotesquely twisted, bones shattered throughout his body. He squirmed, trying in vain to rise.

The next second, a foot stomped onto his back.

Allen stood atop the vampire count, striking a proud pose. "Tough guy, huh? Didn't see this coming, did you? Me and Dracula are on the same side."

"When did we become allies?"

Dracula materialized in his true form, visibly confused.

"Starting now."

Allen nudged the vampire count with his foot. "Boss, I've got him pinned. No way he's getting away."

Dracula was utterly baffled.

This lunatic's thought process was impossible to follow.

Without wasting time, Dracula turned to check on the vampire bride.

He approached the cart, lifted her chin with one hand, and saw she was merely unconscious. His expression relaxed slightly.

With the blood god ritual underway, Dracula couldn't afford to expend true blood to make another bride. In his weakened state, he wasn't sure he could handle what was coming.

Among the purebloods were princes—there was even a possibility one of the progenitors would descend upon Gotham.

Beep beep beep…

A round object in the vampire bride's arms started beeping.

Dracula frowned, puzzled, when he heard Allen's smug voice.

"Dumbass. You walked right into it."

Boom!

A flash of blinding ultraviolet light exploded.

Allen, now wearing goggles, grinned toward the blast zone.

It made perfect sense to carry an ultraviolet grenade on the road.

Just now, Allen had feigned surrender to lower Dracula's guard.

He'd used the same trick on the Court of Owls before. Dracula, being wary, wouldn't fall for the same act—so he switched tactics.

The intense UV light washed over everything.

Even the vampire count beneath Allen couldn't survive. Amidst a final, furious roar, he crumbled into ash.

Allen had been grinning smugly—but his face suddenly froze.

He saw, next to the cart, a scorched figure still standing. Smoke rose from its body, but it hadn't disintegrated.

Allen abruptly remembered: Ultraviolet light doesn't kill Dracula.

"I'm not feeling well today. Let's reschedule our booty call for tomorrow."

Allen turned and left without a backward glance.

After a few steps, he broke into a full sprint.

Chunks of charred skin fell from Dracula's body. His incredible regenerative powers kicked in—within a minute, he was completely healed.

"I'm going to kill you."

He transformed into a swarm of bats and gave chase.

Hiding on a rooftop, Marianne trembled.

She hadn't really fled. Instead, she found a concealed vantage point to ambush Dracula at the right moment. But now that Allen had pissed him off?

She immediately abandoned the idea and curled into a ball, too scared to make a sound.

"Come on, dumbass! Chase me! Hehehe…"

Allen tore through the streets, taunting with that annoyingly cocky tone. He didn't look scared at all—in fact, he seemed to be having fun.

He darted into a narrow alley and came to a halt, removing his goggles and bowing his head slightly, as if waiting.

Dracula reappeared a short distance away in his true form, carefully scanning the surroundings, wary of another trap.

Suddenly, Allen looked up, smiling with unshakable confidence and a mocking glint in his eyes.

"Trying to act all spooky."

Dracula narrowed his eyes and unleashed a mind-control spell.

The bloodline's four signature techniques:

Mind Enchantment, Bat Summoning, Bat Transformation, and Blood Manipulation.

But even Professor X—master of mental abilities—couldn't control Allen. What chance did Dracula have?

Truthfully, anyone with proper training in mental defense could resist such powers.

After a minute-long standoff, Allen remained composed, forcing Dracula to give up and charge forward.

"Step one."

As Dracula moved, Allen raised a finger and muttered aloud.

"Step two."

Another step—another finger raised.

Now Dracula hesitated before taking the third. Suspicion gnawed at him.

"Step three."

This time, Allen placed his thumb over his other two fingers, mimicking a snap, a mischievous glint in his grin.

It's a trap!

Dracula bolted into the sky, transforming into bats once more.

Allen stared after him blankly before slowly lowering his hand.

"Heh… got away. I almost cracked and pissed myself."

That's right—Allen had been bluffing.

He didn't have precognitive powers. There was no trap.

It was all a psychological game.

Clearly, Dracula hadn't called his bluff.

Using Gotham's hidden passageways, Allen returned to Arkham Fortress.

"Unita Sun-Sun, open the door."

"Welcome back, Commander," said the digital voice.

As the metal gates slid open, Unita's holographic projection appeared to greet him.

"Unita Sun-Sun, your chest looks bigger again. I think it might be a tumor. I studied traditional medicine with Chelsea back in the League of Assassins—wanna free checkup?"

Allen flashed his most perverted grin, gums showing.

"Please behave yourself, Commander. Unita is just a data construct and lacks that functionality," she replied sternly.

Allen stroked his chin with mock seriousness. "Somehow, that just makes it even hotter. Kekekeke…"