Steve Chapter 889: It's Your time to Shine (Patreon)

The round-table conference did not last very long.

Right after Fang Mo stated his position, Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain likewise made her intentions clear.

For reasons unknown, the Queen appeared unusually optimistic about Fang Mo—of course she felt the same about Alucard. Once everyone had spoken, she immediately issued an order: all members of Millennium were to be wiped out as quickly as possible.

Although Millennium had not formally declared war as they did in the original story, there was no doubt about the threat. These lunatic remnants of an older age possessed terrifying technology and had already caused serious harm to the United Kingdom; they had to be eliminated at once. Besides, the two sides had sworn blood-feud decades ago…

After giving the order, the Queen left the hall to rest. The others remained to discuss operational details—Integra, in particular, sought out Maxwell of the Vatican to exchange intelligence.

…

Fang Mo did not stay. His earlier declaration had not been for show.

He was determined to obtain the unknown module inside Schrödinger; since the Major refused to appear, Fang Mo would simply drag him out.

To catch his quarry quickly, Fang Mo—reluctantly—decided to put his long-rusty brain to work. In theory he could activate his dimensional authority, devouring the planet the way Dormammu used the White Expanse and then search for the Major.

But he had little desire to swallow worlds: the White Expanse was already infinite, and he disliked relying on such powers. Small-scale use was fine, but on a grand scale that omnipotent feeling suppressed his humanity. Rather than become a colorless, formless god of perfect reason, Fang Mo preferred to remain human—specifically, a vulgar human with low tastes; only then did he feel truly alive.

“Emmm…”

After thinking for a while, he sheathed Laevateinn and drew a massive, pitch-black great-sword.

“Shoggoth, Shoggoth, wake up.”

He patted the dark blade. “No more sleeping.”

“…shiek?”

At his call, the deep black sword suddenly came alive. The edge melted, the spine softened, and the whole weapon flowed into an amorphous, supple mass. In Fang Mo’s hand the black gelatinous lump writhed excitedly, sprouting tendrils that nuzzled him like slick eels.

“Good child.”

Stroking it like a pet, he whispered, “I have something important for you.”

“shiek!?”

The blob froze, attentive.

“I need you to find someone.” Fang Mo outlined the mission. “I don’t know where he’s hiding, so you’ll probably have to comb the earth. The target is…”

He spent a moment describing the Major.

“That’s all.” Having given the details, he issued the order: “Schrödinger’s power is special, so we may or may not track him, but the Major is an ordinary human with no abilities. Focus on him…”

“shiek-shiek.”

The Shoggoth answered at once. “shiek!”

“Excellent—full of energy!”

Fang Mo flattened the gelatinous mass back into a fathomless sword and drove it heavily into the ground. “Off you go!”

“shiek-ya!”

As the blade sank, the liquid darkness churned restlessly. Shadows spread across the floor, engulfing Hellsing headquarters in the blink of an eye and rolling outward without end. It was as though the earth had been torn open, exposing primordial night. Nameless things from the far side of the abyss writhed free, transforming into countless black masses that billowed toward the sky, a pitch-black waterfall cascading up into the stars.

Anyone who witnessed the scene would have been stunned: darkness poured out of the ground and blotted out the clear sky, turning day into something deeper than night. The spectacle alone was enough to shatter a mortal’s sanity.

The phenomenon lasted several minutes. Through the sword as conduit, the abyssal Shoggoth extended its tendrils onto the planet. By nature, each Shoggoth is both a separate individual and a fragment of the whole—a hive-mind. Now, at Fang Mo’s behest, it subdivided into innumerable smaller units: first palm-sized globs, then beans, then grains of dark sand, finally motes of dust—countless nano-scale Shoggoths.

They surged into the sky, merged with water vapor and dust, and became an overcast shroud racing across the world.

“Not bad,” Fang Mo nodded, satisfied. “Looks like it’s done.”

Within three days the nano-Shoggoths would permeate every corner of the biosphere; even a nuclear shelter could not hide the Major.

Fang Mo had other methods to force the Major out—overwhelming displays of power, interrogating his vampire subordinates, shattering the Major’s worldview from afar—but directing the Shoggoth was far simpler and spared him the trouble.

He had barely lingered when the oppressive darkness overhead began to thin—not disappearing, merely dispersing. Just as Fang Mo was about to leave, hurried footsteps approached.

“Hmm?”

Looking up, he saw Hellsing’s butler Walter rushing toward him, worry etched on his face.

“Yo, Walter—”

Before Fang Mo could greet him, Walter seized him by the collar, furious.

“What did you just do!?”

Clearly Walter had witnessed the unnerving spectacle.

“Hey now, don’t panic.” Fang Mo laughed. “I’m only protecting London.”

“You—” Walter, still shaken, demanded, “What was that!?”

“My corpse-miasma,” Fang Mo improvised smoothly. “Or, if you prefer, resentment stored in my body over millions of years. It’s part of me—an extension of my limbs. I released it into the atmosphere.”

“Why would you do that!?”

“Why else?” Fang Mo slapped Walter’s hand away. “To locate the Major. Didn’t I say I’d protect London?”

Walter blinked, confused. He had assumed Fang Mo’s stunt signaled a sinister plot—but was it really just to hunt the Major?

“You didn’t think I was staging a coup, did you?” Fang Mo chuckled, then arched a brow. “But speaking of coups, perhaps the real traitor is you, Walter C. Dornez…”

“You—” Walter froze. “What are you implying?”

“I chatted with the others and learned a bit about your past,” Fang Mo said, smiling at the aging English butler. “I hear you met Alucard when you were very young. Decades ago the two of you destroyed the last battalion together—am I right?”

“That’s true,” Walter frowned. “But how does that equate to treason? Are you framing me?”

“No need for framing,” Fang Mo replied mildly. “After the war, Alucard was sealed away because he was no longer useful, only to be reawakened years later when Integra’s uncle tried to seize control.”

Walter’s expression changed.

“So here’s the question,” Fang Mo continued playfully. “Someone warned you back then that Alucard was restless and told you to protect Integra. But where were you?”

“I—”

Walter opened his mouth to explain, but Fang Mo raised a hand, cutting him off. “The reason is simple: the once-renowned Angel of Death, Walter, had already decided to defect…”

“Utter nonsense!” Walter’s eyes flashed. “You’re trying to drive a wedge between me and the young mistress! We won’t fall for it!”

“Really?” Fang Mo shrugged. “Think it over. You were the great Angel of Death, the strongest human, Hellsing’s trump card. You enjoyed being that powerful. But then you witnessed the might of the Undead King. The werewolf captain you couldn’t defeat in your youth was no match for Alucard. Your pride, your blood, everything boiled—you yearned to defeat that monster.”

“Stop it!” Walter pulled his wires and attacked, but they could not harm Fang Mo.

“You knew you still needed to grow, so you honed your skills. In your prime you reached your peak—yet the war was over, Alucard sealed away, your chance lost. You spent years wondering how to release him, how to fight him, even at the cost of your life.”

“You—!” Walter gritted his teeth and lunged.

“But time has worn you down,” Fang Mo said, breaking the wires and blinking in front of Walter. “You’re no longer in your prime; you can’t beat him. You resigned yourself, muttering that ‘growing old is romantic’—but you never accepted it.”

Walter’s pupils shrank; he instinctively stepped back.

At that moment a large hand appeared, holding a pristine golden apple that gleamed with fatal allure.

“Things are different now,” Fang Mo murmured, offering the apple like the devil himself. “The chance for rebirth is right here, yours for the taking.”