Steve Chapter 896: Hail Hydra! (Patreon)

“C‑Crap… this is bad…”

Feeling the terrifying strength of the hand clamped on the back of her neck, Zorin’s face went pale.

The power in that hand was horrifying, like a hydraulic press; she could hear her cervical vertebrae creak and felt her vision begin to blur and darken.

“Damn it! Let go of me!”

Realizing something was very wrong, Zorin thrashed wildly.

“You loathsome insect—let go of me, now!”
Her roar was as feral as a wild beast’s.

She swung the huge scythe in her hand straight back in a frenzy.

Schlch!—the blade sank into flesh.

A twisted, maniacal smile flashed across Zorin’s face… but it froze an instant later.

The grip on her neck had not lessened—
it had tightened, growing even more brutal.

“Let go! LET GO! You worthless trash, let go of me!”

Now Zorin truly panicked; if this kept up she would be finished.

“Curse you, worm! I’ll kill—”

She never managed to say the word you.

The woman police officer behind her moved.

With a crazed snarl, the officer slammed her palm forward, forcing Zorin face‑first to the floor.
Her entire face smashed into the stone tiles.

“Of all people… you are the one I must kill!”

The officer ground the words out between clenched teeth. Blood was still spurting from a wound at her side, yet she seemed not to care. The feral fury twisting her features made her terrifying to behold.

“I’ll kill you with the cruelest, most dreadful torture imaginable—go to Hell and repent!”

Snarling, the officer hoisted Zorin up and hammered her into the floor again and again.

With each thunderous impact Zorin’s cheekbones shattered against the stone, gouging a crater in the floor.

Her flesh was flayed, eyeballs bulged, blood and tissue stuck to the pit and tore away in scarlet filaments; several teeth snapped off and remained embedded in the rubble.

“Y‑you—”

Zorin tried to speak, mouth hanging open.

The officer jerked her up and drove a kick into her chest, spun in mid‑air and dealt another that pulverized Zorin’s jaw and ribs.

“Seras…”

Integra had never seen the officer so enraged; she murmured the name unconsciously.

“Good! Hit her just like that!!!”

But at that moment Fang Mo shouted encouragement from the side.

“No—hit her exactly like that! Keep going! Beat that mule‑dog wretch to death!!!”

“Could you stop pouring fuel on the fire?” Integra snapped. “Can’t you see Seras has alrea—”

“Seras! Use Rugal’s Grand Throw!” Fang Mo ignored her, yelling again to the distant officer. “Unleash your super move!”

“RAAAAH!”

Whether at Fang Mo’s command or out of her own boundless rage, Seras let out a roar, grabbed Zorin’s hair, smashed her head into a wall, then broke into a sprint.

Zorin’s face was pressed flat against the wall.
As Seras charged, the wall sanded her features away, then her skull, then her brain. A grotesque crimson smear exploded across the corridor.

Blood, meat, splintered bone—

like some macabre abstract mural, all of it stuck to the wall.

At last Seras dragged what was left—only half a body—to the corridor’s end and slammed it against the far wall. With one fist she pounded Zorin’s chest again and again until it was pulp: lungs burst into fragments, ribs snapped and skewered Seras’s knuckles, and even the heart was beaten to mush.

When she finally stopped, nothing recognizable remained of Zorin—just a lump of viscera that slid to the floor.

Seras herself leaned back, gasping for air; she was clearly gravely wounded.

That was only natural. In the original story she had needed to drink blood to defeat Zorin—following Bernadotte’s last wish, she drank him dry and awakened fully as a vampire.

As a direct servant of the True Ancestor Alucard, her awakened power and “river of death” made her overwhelmingly strong.

Right now, however, Seras had not drunk Bernadotte’s blood.

After such a brutal battle she could no longer stand; she collapsed to her knees.

“Seras!”

Seeing her fall, Integra rushed over, biting her finger on the way. She knelt before Seras and pressed the bleeding fingertip to her lips.
“You fool! Even a vampire can’t endure this much—drink some blood, quickly!”

“Miss Integra…”

But Seras turned her head aside.
“Captain… the Captain is dead.”

“I know.”

Integra’s voice sank.

“Uncle Ba gave Captain Bernadotte some talismans—to save his life,” Seras said, her voice breaking. “I told him to keep a few, but he gave them all to the others. I understand, but it hurts so much…”

“Talk later.” Integra soothed her. “Drink first. The dead can’t come back—”

“Who says they can’t?”

At that moment Fang Mo’s voice drifted over.
“Why can’t they? People have been resurrected for years already.”

“Ha?”

Integra spun toward him. “Enough nonsense! Dead men don’t revive—unless they become ghouls.”

“Stop talking nonsense with your eyes open. Maybe look for the real cause?” Fang Mo hefted Bernadotte’s corpse and walked over. “For years you Britons never studied real sorcery, never summoned Elder Gods seriously, then you declare resurrection impossible? Give me a break.”

“You—”

“What?!”

Integra began to retort, but Seras jerked upright, hope flaring in her eyes.

“Uncle Ba—Uncle, is that true?!”

“Of course.” Fang Mo dropped Bernadotte’s body. “I have one great passion: true love. When I see two hearts united I can’t help but get— well, bless them. Watch Uncle bring your lover back.”

“Hold on!” Integra snapped. “Are you really resurrecting him—not turning him into some ghoul or zombie?”

“What, you doubt me?” Fang Mo shot back. “If you like, I can bring your great‑grandmother back for a chat—or your ancestor Van Helsing. Want to try?”

“And the price?” Integra asked warily; she trusted no devil’s generosity.

“Seras,” Fang Mo called, ignoring Integra, “what do you call me?”

“Uncle Ba—Uncle,” Seras answered at once.

“There, see?” Fang Mo said to Integra. “Does an uncle need a reason to help his niece?”

“I, Fang Mo helping his niece—needs no reason.”

“Aren’t you Wang Jiang‑chen?!”

Integra shouted, exasperated. “You’re lying again!”

…

Fang Mo ignored her, produced a glass vial, and tossed it to Seras.

“Catch. Drink that to heal first, then watch the show.”

Seras caught the vial gratefully—then winced. “S‑so hot!”

“What blood is that?” Integra frowned. The small bottle held a bubbling red liquid; rather than blood it looked like molten lava, radiating heat even at a distance.

“Why so many questions?” Fang Mo snapped, arranging a dark altar. “Drink it or stay wounded—your choice.”

“I’ll drink!”

Seras trusted him. She bit the seal off and downed it.

Immediately black smoke hissed from her mouth—as if her insides were being scorched—and she writhed in agony.

“Seras!” Integra cried. “Wang Jiang‑chen, you bastard, what have you done?!”

“I just gave her something very hot to drink,” Fang Mo said while working the ritual. “We drink water at 0 °C and pee at 36 °C, right? Humans are basically beakers. Relax.”

“I’ll relax when you—”

“…Arise, O dead!”

Fang Mo flourished the Staff of J'zahar over the altar.

The offerings—components of a human body—rose and drifted together, coalescing into a gray‑black mist of the dead.

Moments later a bewildered Bernadotte stepped out.

“What on earth—? That’s my own body! Am I a ghost?!”

“No, you’ve been resurrected,” Fang Mo said curtly, pointing at Seras. “She asked me. You two have three days to marry, got it?”

“Resur—what?!” Bernadotte was stunned. “Impossible… Wait, what’s wrong with Seras?!”

He noticed Seras writhing on the floor.

“Oh, she had cramps. I told her to drink magma—driving out the chill,” Fang Mo said. “Give it a moment.”

“What kind of remedy is that?!”

Bernadotte knelt beside her. “Seras, are you okay?”

“C‑Captain Bernadotte…?” Seras looked up, joy shining through her pain. “You… you’re really back?!”

She had barely spoken when a violent cough convulsed her.

A terrible pressure burst from her body—the air grew blisteringly hot, and her shadow on the floor writhed and boiled as though some primordial beast churned within.

Without warning, a gigantic eye opened in the shadow.

The dark mass bulged upward, revealing the scale‑clad head of a monstrous creature. It filled the corridor and jammed itself halfway out.

“What is that thing?!” Integra gasped. “What did you feed her?”

“Hail Hydra,” Fang Mo said, raising his hand.

“…What?” Bernadotte blinked. “Why do you look like some fanatic Nazi?”

“Hydra?” Integra caught on, shock spreading across her face. “No—where did you get that?!”