Steve Chapter 891: Decisive Battle is on the Horizon? (Patreon)

“…Fine—if we have to go to extremes, we’ll go to extremes.”

Fang Mo decided it was time to crank the pressure up to billions on these people.
He slowly raised his hand, locked his mind on the meteor-steel dagger inside his storage space, and was about to trigger its power.

“Say farewell to your petty mortal selves. Allow me to show you a miracle—Tengai Shinsei—”

Just then the Major unexpectedly spoke again.

“Wait, sir.”

The rotund man adjusted his glasses and looked at Fang Mo. “I have something I very much wish to confirm. Would you enlighten me?”

“What’s wrong—curious how you’ll die?” Fang Mo asked coolly.

“No, no, no.”

The Major shook his head. “I am prepared for death, but I’d rather not die pointlessly by your hand.”

He sighed theatrically. “After all, I’ve lain low for more than half a century. To perish before I can even start a proper war would be such a waste.”

“Relax—you won’t die,” Fang Mo smiled, the kind of smile that made one’s skin crawl. “No one has dared troll me to my face like this before. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Not… die?”

The doctor at the Major’s side blinked, then panicked. “Y-you—you mean to turn us into the undead?!”

“Doctor, I told you to stay calm.”

The Major didn’t seem surprised. “Given who we’re dealing with, turning us undead—or killing and resurrecting us a few times—would hardly be strange, would it?”

The doctor fell silent.

“So, sir,” the Major suddenly asked, “you are not of this world, are you?”

“…What?”

Everyone nearby stared at him in shock.

“Would you like to know the exact order I gave Warrant Officer Schrödinger?” The Major pressed on before Fang Mo could reply. “It was simple: ignore every plan of Millennium, hide with complete autonomy, seek any chance to kill Alucard, and only when Alucard exposes a fatal opening should Schrödinger re-observe himself into three-dimensional space and strike the killing blow.”

“Oh?”

Fang Mo raised an eyebrow.

“Negotiations need bargaining chips,” the Major said, smiling as he pushed his glasses higher. “Your existence is absurd—utterly unfathomable. I believe you’re well aware of that.”

“You want me to kill Alucard for you?”

“Honestly, I would love to be your ally,” the Major admitted, a glint of fanaticism flashing in his eyes. “Rebuild the Empire, carve through Europe, toss all those disgusting people into the camps—let them plug the gas vents with their fingers while their bodies sizzle—”

“But I know it’s impossible,” he went on before Fang Mo could answer. “You are not one of us, nor of Alucard.”

“I have tried to analyze your motives. You don’t bother to hide them, which let me notice your interest in Schrödinger. That is why a mere mortal like me dares negotiate with a god.”

He paused, then stared at Fang Mo with burning eyes. “Sir, let us sign a treaty.”

“A treaty?”

“Just like the one we signed with the Soviets in 1939.”

The Major’s voice quivered with excitement. “If you find Schrödinger fascinating, study him as you wish—but spare his life. He is the poison I prepared for the Undying King.”

“Emmm…”

Fang Mo thought for a moment. The man was crazy, yes, but also shrewd. In a corner with no escape, he still produced a final weight for the scales and tried to bargain.

If Schrödinger’s mission truly was to slay Alucard, Fang Mo could force him out—kill the Major’s group, recreate the do-or-die battle of the original story, trap Alucard, freeze time at the instant he went to drink blood, then scour space for Schrödinger. It would work, but it was a colossal hassle—and Fang Mo hated hassles.

Which was exactly what the Major was banking on.

“…Fine.” Fang Mo nodded slowly. “I don’t have to kill Schrödinger.”

“Hah—did it work?”

The Major exhaled in relief, then laughed to cover the slip. “I thought I was finished. To think it actually succeeded—this feels like winning a war!”

“Enough blather.”

Fang Mo had limited patience. “When do you plan to act?”

“We’re already acting,” the Major answered at once. “Our zeppelins are over Britain. The spies we planted in the military have begun. Many were purged, but they can still sow chaos.”

“So soon?” Fang Mo looked at him, surprised. “You were that sure I’d agree?”

“Not at all.”

The Major smiled. “We’re simply going to die anyway. With you around we have nowhere to hide, so better to burn everything at once—let our deaths lull Hellsing and Britain into complacency. What follows is up to Warrant Officer Schrödinger.”

“You really are a madman,” Fang Mo remarked.

“Hehehe—being mad is delightful.”
The Major spread his arms in rapture. “Only a madman knows true joy! Ah, the war that’s fifty-odd years late is about to begin!”

“Suit yourself…”

Rolling his eyes, Fang Mo could no longer be bothered. He activated Ender Blink, became a streak of white light, and vanished.

…

He reappeared in the Hellsing manor’s castle.

“Welcome back, Master.”

Mizuki padded over like a kitten. “Where did you run off to? Our beautiful dream isn’t finished.”

“Later,” Fang Mo said, patting her head. “We may have a fight coming—sleep’s inconvenient.”

“Need my help?” she tilted her head. “If you like, Uncle here can cast something like Infinite Tsukuyomi.”

“Stop calling yourself ‘Uncle’—makes me think of… other things.” Fang Mo face-palmed. “A big B pops out of the moon—cough—maybe even a little TV. Only a Mongolian top-laner could save the world then.”

“Uweh, Master’s joking again…”

“Be good. If you’re sleepy, keep sleeping; I shouldn’t need you this time.” He ruffled her fluffy hair—it really was as soft as cotton or a cloud—and headed for the door.

No sooner had he stepped out than he bumped into two familiar figures: merc-captain Bernadotte and the policewoman. They walked shoulder to shoulder, chatting amiably—feelings clearly warming.

“Ah? Mr. Ba?”

The policewoman noticed him first. “Awake? About that black—”

“Don’t know. Wasn’t me. Don’t ask.” Fang Mo cut her off with three short jabs.

“Knew it was you…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. She’d learned his temperament by now.

“The kid, you don’t look well.” Fang Mo ignored her and eyed Bernadotte. “The death-shadow on your brow has darkened—you might not see tomorrow’s sun. Any ideas why?”

“How would I know?” Bernadotte sighed. “If I die, odds are you’ve hexed me. I hear the East does a lot of sorcery.”

“Do you want to truly live?” Fang Mo asked suddenly. “To understand life’s meaning?”

“Eh? What?” Bernadotte blinked. “Aren’t I living now?”

“Here—take this.”

Fang Mo handed him a strangely carved wooden charm.

“What’s this?”

“A talisman—call it China magic,” Fang Mo said. “It can block one fatal strike. Limited supply. Keep it or give it to your men, up to you—but when you pass it on, you’ll know the weight of life.”

“Seriously?” Bernadotte stared at the charm in disbelief.

Before he could finish, hurried footsteps approached. Integra strode over, face grim.

“Millennium has declared war.”

Without preamble she spoke: “All military bases in Britain are in chaos. Vampire agents are sabotaging everywhere. Round-Table members have been attacked. Even an Atlantic carrier has been seized.”

“What!?” The policewoman gasped and looked at Fang Mo—remembering his ominous words.

Integra noticed. “Wang Jiangchen—what are you plotting now?”

“What could I plot?” Fang Mo shot back. “Maybe whip up a KFC bucket to blow your stomachs sky-high.”

“You—”

Integra fought her temper. “Forget it. I need your help.”

“What, low blood pressure again?” Fang Mo arched a brow.

“…The carrier,” Integra ground out. “Millennium sent a lone monster to take it. He has some special long-range attack—no ships or planes can approach. The sea hobbles Alucard, but you are a flying jiang-shi, immune to bullets. You’re perfect for the job. Alucard will stay and defend London against the disaster you predicted.”

“Got it.” Fang Mo thumped his chest. “Mission accepted! I’ll bring the carrier back safe and sound!”

“Hold it.” Integra realized something. “By ‘bring back’ you don’t mean—”

“Huh?” Fang Mo blinked innocently. “Do I need to spell it out?”

“…A warship is a sword, after all.”