Steve Chapter 879: Naz!s! (Patreon)

Seeing these classic “Qing Dynasty”-style zombies, Fang Mo froze.

They wore the official robes of the Qing era, with withered, green-tinged skin that looked both dry and fuzzy.

A layer of eerie mossy hair covered their bodies, and their eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. An intense, chilly corpse-stench emanated from each of them.

If you had to call them anything, yeah—they were definitely “zombies,” the traditional kind that Fang Mo always pictured. But the problem was… Fang Mo hadn’t simply conjured them out of thin air. He’d actually used the “Zombie Scepter” to summon these living creatures.

Which brought him to the Zombie Scepter in question—naturally referring to the Twilight Lich’s scepter from the Twilight Forest mod. Back in the Chainsaw Man universe, Fang Mo had already tested it.

At that time, the scepter’s power was to awaken corpses within range, its radius influenced by the user’s spirit. In his “normal” state, Fang Mo could even control all corpses across Tokyo.

But now, the ability seemed to have changed. Instead of reanimating existing bodies, it was straight-up summoning zombies. Fang Mo hadn’t seen that coming at all. He’d even put on a stylish red jacket, permed his hair, and planned to channel his “zombie rave” persona. Now the vibe felt totally off.

“Could it be…”

He frowned for a moment, glancing suspiciously at Steve’s inventory. “Because I didn’t ‘realize’ (i.e. manifest) the item this time?”

Indeed, both times he’d used the Zombie Scepter, he’d used different methods. In the Chainsaw Man instance, Fang Mo had physically manifested it into reality and tested it himself. This time, he was too lazy to do that. He left it in Steve’s inventory and had Steve do a right-click command. So the process might have gone sideways somewhere.

As everyone knew, there was a big difference between an in-game item and a manifested/realized item. Take Tinkers’ Construct weapons as an example: when Steve holds one in-game, it carries all the built-in game mechanics. Fang Mo’s “realized” versions often lost certain Minecraft abilities—like “percentage-based damage”—once pulled into reality.

In short, in-game items could have special rules or mechanics—like ignoring armor or chunking away a percentage of a boss’s max HP. But once manifested into normal reality, they functioned like standard physical objects. Tinkers’ swords became ordinary swords, glass swords became worthless glass, etc. So not all items were necessarily better when manifested.

“Feels like there’s pros and cons either way…”
Fang Mo eyed those fuzz-coated Jiangshi, stroking his chin in thought.

“What’re you even talking about?”

Alucard, off to the side, turned to look at Fang Mo. “Something about pros and cons? And where’d you dig those guys up?”

“Huh? I just summoned ’em. Kinda like how you got your dogs.”

Fang Mo dodged the question with random nonsense, then called out to the zombies: “Go on, beat the daylights outta these guys. The Qing Dynasty’s long gone, so feel free to teach these shameless foreign devils a lesson they’ll never forget…”

“Urrrhhh…”

In response to Fang Mo’s order, the zombies snapped their heads toward the Valentine brothers. Their eyes blank, they stumbled over to the closest one—Jan—like puppets on strings. If you could call it “fighting,” it was more of a silly shuffle: some swiping with stiff arms, some bending down to bite, and others hopping in place on top of him. But they had freakish strength; within seconds, they’d mauled Jan Valentine’s already-wrecked body into a grisly mess.

“Eek… Eeeek…?!”

Luke Valentine, watching, scuttled backward in horror. “What… what are these things?!”

“Why the shock?”

Alucard raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only lost two legs. Fight back. I’m waiting, you know.”

“F-Fight back?”

Sweat trickled down Luke’s spine. Fight back—with what, exactly?

“Summon your familiars. Change your shape.”
Alucard bared his teeth, excitement sparking in his eyes. “At least try to regrow your legs. Come on—stand up and keep dancing for me. This glorious night’s only just begun.”

“Yeah, dance for us.”

Fang Mo chimed in, “Hurry it up, buddy. My Fire Release is the stuff of legends in the shinobi world—”

“Monster… MONSTERS!!!”

Luke Valentine’s trembling scream cut them off.

“Hmm?”

Hearing the raw panic in Luke’s voice, Alucard paused, almost disappointed. “You’re tapping out already? So that’s all you are—a dull, half-baked puppet.”

“Shut up, you puppet of Hellsing!”

Luke Valentine, teetering on the edge, started babbling incoherently: “You’re just a guard dog of the English church, you— for a vampire, you’re a complete dis—”

“Ugh, enough with your mouth.”

Alucard, impatient, sighed. “All right, I’m done with you. I’ll let my dogs have a snack instead.”

His shadowy body surged. A swarm of eyes ballooned out, shaping into a nightmarish hellhound that pounced in an instant. Luke Valentine was half-swallowed in one bite, blood gushing through the creature’s fangs like a crushed tomato.

“HOLY—!”

Fang Mo yelped at the gore. “It just… ate him?!”

“What’s with you n—”

Alucard was about to snap back when an angry voice echoed from nearby.

“WANG—ZHAO—SHENG!!!”

Integra, furious, came sprinting over. She hollered at the top of her lungs, “You thought I was some coward who’d hide till it was over?!”

Yes, she’d finally managed to escape the basement.

“Oh-ho.”

Alucard glanced up. “Looks like my Master’s pissed. Did you do something?”

“I blocked her door with a giant gold brick,” Fang Mo admitted, scratching his head. “We’re in a windowless basement, so how’d she even get out?”

“Master! Unc—Uncle Jiangshi!”

Seras—aka the policewoman—jogged up alongside Integra, presumably the reason Integra was freed.

“Right, that explains it.” Fang Mo clapped his hands. “My darling niece must’ve busted her out.”

“Since when is the policewoman your niece?” Alucard couldn’t resist asking.

But by then, Integra and Seras had reached them.

“You!”

Integra glared daggers at Fang Mo, but quickly diverted her gaze to Jan Valentine, still getting ravaged by the weird Qing zombies. She looked briefly stunned. “Th-this guy is the intruder?”

“Yo, sow!”

Despite being chewed on, Jan Valentine still found the energy to sneer. He lifted his middle finger toward Integra. “Finally decided to show your sorry fa—”

Bang, Bang, Bang!

Integra, famously short-tempered, emptied a few bullets into him. Her face looked ice-cold. “No foul language, you piece of garbage. I’m in a bad mood already.”

“Oh… so you’re pissed, huh?”

Jan Valentine clutched his wounds, cackling. “Guess that means I’m doin’ pretty good, then.”

“Who are you people? Who sent you here?!”
Integra’s voice seethed with rage as she surveyed the ruined courtyard. “Talk—NOW!”

“Hah… HAHAHAHA!”

Jan Valentine threw his head back, laughing so hard he almost forgot the zombies gnawing on him. He eyed the horrific scene around them, putting on a fake, mocking tone. “Seems like we messed up this time, huh? No biggie. You must’ve noticed we’re half-cyborgs or something by now.”

“Which is exactly why I’m asking who you’re working for!”

Integra hissed.

“That little device in our bodies is transmitting data, including how bad we’re losing,”

Jan said with a twisted grin, ignoring the zombies tearing him apart. “You think they’ll let a failure like me spill the beans?”

“What?”

Integra stiffened. Right then, Jan’s body flared with a bright blue flame. The temperature soared, forcing the zombies back a step. The blazing heat charred Jan’s skin to black in seconds. Even so, he managed to flip everyone off one last time. “Heh… see, losers? I’m outta here first!”

“Damn you!”

Integra clenched her fists. “You bastard—”

Before she could finish, a large hand shot out, plunging straight through the flames to clamp onto Jan’s skull.

“What?!”

Everyone froze. Even Jan Valentine stared in disbelief.

“Did I say you could die?”

Fang Mo’s smile was downright demonic. He reached into Jan’s torso and pulled out a dagger from somewhere, then jammed it into the top of Jan’s skull. Clamping both sides of the man’s face like a can opener, Fang Mo gave a hard twist.

Crack!

Jan’s skullcap tore right off. Most bizarrely, the severed chunk began squirming, sprouting downward like flesh regrowing. In seconds, that piece of bone reformed into a new “Jan Valentine,” complete with head, body, everything—leaving everyone utterly stunned.

“Wh-what just happened?”

Even Jan himself looked bewildered, staring at Fang Mo. “What the hell did you do to me?!”

“I told you, nobody understands you Naz! bastards better than I do.”

Fang Mo’s grin sent chills down everyone’s spine. “You guys love hiding self-destruct devices in your bodies. Big deal. I’ll just rip you out of that body and give you a new one. Problem solved.”

“Wait—did you say Naz!?!”

Integra’s face darkened even more. “They’re Naz!s?!”

“You—”

Jan Valentine looked downright terrified. He lunged at Fang Mo in blind fury. “I’ll kill you, you—!”

He’d realized the horror that awaited. He snapped, trying to get himself killed. He launched a wild, rabid-dog attack, jaws gaping for Fang Mo’s arm. If he could rip off even a shred of flesh, he’d count that as a win.

Fang Mo didn’t bother dodging. He let the guy chomp down—though, naturally, Jan’s bite couldn’t pierce Fang Mo’s insane defense.

“Seriously?”

Fang Mo raised an eyebrow, then turned to Integra and the others. “Check out this rabid dog. He’s biting me?”

“Wait, what are you—?”

Integra lifted a hand to her forehead in exasperation. “Can’t we interrogate him fi—”

“I’ll follow up with a merciless gut-kick!”

Fang Mo cut her off by slamming a foot into Jan’s chest. The force was immense enough to cave in his entire ribcage. The whiplash tore out most of Jan’s teeth, and his body was sent pinwheeling through the air.

Mid-flight, Fang Mo hammered Jan’s face with a brutal punch, splattering blood like a geyser.

“Bansho Ten’in.”

He then lifted a hand, yanking Jan back toward him with gravitational pull. Catching Jan by the throat, he plunged that same healing dagger into his heart. “Let’s go for some CPR, shall we?”

At the dagger’s touch, Jan’s crushed chest inexplicably popped back into shape. But Fang Mo kept a stranglehold on him, so he just dangled there, gagging. Denied air, Jan’s face turned purple-black as he convulsed.

“Don’t worry, I am interrogating him,”

Fang Mo said offhandedly to Integra. “Learned all about dog training from Makima in Japan. Trust me, I’ll have him begging to roll over in no time. Hellsing’s HQ can be the ‘northern triangle’ for vampires—nobody leaves alive.”

“I…”

Integra’s face looked even darker than usual.