A Mutant Collector Quest

"My name is Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Remember it, as I have a hunch we will be seeing each other a lot more in the future." She licks her lips. "And my dear golden goose, I will come back for you someday… so don't die, hihihihi!"

She laughs eerily, winking at the struggling Blade. The Book in her arms begins to glow intensely, and in the blink of an eye, dark smoke surrounds her, causing her to vanish without a trace from the hall.

As her presence disappears, the oppressive spell lifts. Behind me, relieved sighs ripple through the group.

"Crazy witch," Blade mutters in distaste as he pulls himself upright.

"Who the hell was she?" Sable asks, brushing herself off, her fingers absentmindedly teasing the small phoenix perched on her shoulder.

"Magicians... Magic users," Elsa chimes in with a stretch. "All of them are such a bore to fight."

I also breathe an internal sigh of relief. This was the first time I have faced a proper magic user, and thankfully, I had Anti-Magic to counter her. In fact, I am glad she decided to leave; I wasn't sure what kind of trick she might have had left. I am certain she has plenty more up her sleeve, but it seems she didn't actually want to fight me or anyone else.

Her actions were nothing more than stalling tactics, even going so far as to make the others kneel and ensuring they didn't attack. All of this was just to buy time, ensuring whatever ritual was happening in that dark aura at the room's center would succeed.

I look back and see Blade staring at the black mist in the center of the hall with a fierce hatred.

"Blade…" I start, my voice softening. "We were sent here by Whistler. He is… he is sadly not in this world anymore, but even on his deathbed, he was thinking about you. He wanted us to rescue you." I let out a heavy sigh.

"DEACON!! I—I will fucking kill him!!" Blade roars, fury twisting his features as he rushes toward the dark mist swirling in the room's center.

"Blade, take this!" I call, making a silver sword with my Data Warping ability and tossing it to him. He catches it mid-air and charges headlong into the mist.

I had just provoked him, expecting this exact reaction. Not wanting to dive headfirst into the dark mist, I sent Blade ahead to tank the danger.

"Girls, get ready!" I say aloud, adjusting my mentality and bracing myself for whatever comes next. I don't expect this to end so easily. Considering how that witch vanished without much effort, it might already be too late.

Elsa and Sable share the same concerns, stepping up behind me with weapons drawn.

"Just in case, take one each," I say, handing them each a pill of NZT. "It will help in the upcoming fight."

Neither of them has had the Immunity shots or Booster shots, but I am confident that their bodies can handle a single pill of the original NZT with minimal side effects. I briefly consider giving them NZT-Focus, but decide against it. As I am not sure if a lighter dose would even work on Elsa, who is a Bloodstone.

Just as we were taking our performance-enhancing drugs, Blade had already rushed ahead.

Blade had charged straight into the black mist, drawing the silver sword. He didn't have to go far before he reached a pit. He remembers seeing it filled with blood before during the ritual, but now, instead of the familiar crimson pool, all he saw was a massive ball— a huge, pulsating sphere of bright red blood, completely filling the pit.

The ball of blood sat ominously, shrouded in a swirling dark mist. "Die!" Blade snarls.

Wasting no time, he plunges his silver sword straight into the crimson sphere, determined to stop Deacon's plans before they could unfold.

The blade pierces through the blood effortlessly, and for a moment, it seems like victory is in sight. But before Blade could celebrate, the blood begins to shift— as if it were alive. It starts climbing up the length of his silver sword like living tendrils.

Blade tries to yank the weapon back, but it wouldn't budge. The blood was holding it fast. And before he could react, the crimson liquid has already crept onto his hand, the blood felt surprisingly cold and unnervingly heavy. Suddenly, the blood surges, forming a monstrous red claw.

With a feral swipe, the claw slashes across Blade's chest, the impact smashing him back with overwhelming power.

I remain oblivious to what's happening within the dark mist. The only strange thing is the distant rumble of thunder echoing through the basement—an unsettling sound considering we are deep underground.

"Hey… at least release us from these chains… please," a soft, pitiful voice interrupts my thoughts. I glance back to see the raven-haired female vampire gazing at me, her expression pleading.

The girls besides me are too shocked because of the pills effects to care about her. Before I can respond, a blur streaks past me at breakneck speed.

BAM!

"Ughhh!" A pained grunt follows as Blade's body slams into the wall with brutal force. My eyes widen when you see the deep, jagged claw marks raked across his chest—marks that are already beginning to heal rapidly.

The dark mist begins to dissipate, revealing a figure stepping out of the shadows. Black boots click against the floor, complementing his sharp black suit and flowing cloak. His sleek black hair frames a pale face, and his crimson eyes gleam with a predatory light.

"Ah, the world looks so different now… so vibrant, so full of Red!" he says, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he surveys the room. I notice that the lingering black mist is being absorbed into his body, as if it were a part of him.

"Hey… are you Deacon Frost?" I ask, my eyes narrowing.

"Yes, that is my name," he replies cheerfully, though his attention is focused on himself, admiring his form with a self-satisfied grin.

"No… Deacon Frost is an old man with white hair. That man is lying!" The raven-haired girl nailed to the ground speaks up, her voice trembling with defiance.

"Oh, Nyssa, sweetie, you can't recognize me?" the man says, suddenly bending down in front of her, his pale hand gently caressing her cheek.

Nyssa's eyes widen in shock. He had been so far away just moments ago—how did he get here so quickly? She hadn't even seen him move!

"I didn't see a thing," Sable whispers, glancing back at the figure, her expression uneasy.

"All I saw was a momentary blur," Elsa murmurs, her face scrunched in focused seriousness.

I silently thank myself for giving them those pills; clearly, we are going to need every advantage we can get. In fact, I was the only one who managed to catch the most of his movement. First, he stood still, then stepped forward inhumanly fast before crouching to touch Nyssa's face. But that wasn't a good sign—it was terrifying. If this really was Deacon Frost, then we were all in serious trouble, as even his movement was too hard to follow.

"Are you really Deacon? How… how did you become so young?" Nyssa stammers absentmindedly, her voice laced with disbelief.

Deacon smirks, tilting her chin up with a single pale finger. "Do I look more handsome now, sweetie?" he asks, his grin widening.

Her shock morphs into rage as tears well up in her eyes. "Y-you killed my father! You killed all the Elders! You stole their powers, you thief! You will pay for this! Dracula wi—" Nyssa's voice breaks into hysterical sobs, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Silence!" Deacon's voice cuts through the air like a whip as he abruptly stands. Nyssa immediately lowers her head, her words dying in her throat.

Not just her—every vampire behind her lowers their heads in unison, trembling with instinctive submission.

"Hahahahaha! Yes, this is it! This is the power I have craved my whole life—the power to make those beneath you submit with nothing more than a word!" Deacon's laughter booms through the empty hall, his voice dripping with unrestrained glee.

Nyssa struggles to lift her head, her tear-filled eyes blazing with hatred, though her lips remain tightly sealed. Deacon notices her defiance and smirks, leaning down to grab her chin once more.

"Ah, Nyssa," he says mockingly, tilting her face up. "Just a day ago, the thought of such a hateful glare from a pureblood like you would have sent shivers down my spine. But now? Now, all I can think is how beautiful you look, even when you are crying."

Nyssa's lips tremble as if she is desperately trying to force words out, but her body betrays her.

"Do you see it now, sweetie?" Deacon continues, his crimson eyes glowing with triumph. "I am not the same Deacon Frost you used to scream at. No, even if your father—an Ancient Vampire—stood before me now, I would have him crawling at my feet like a loyal dog. With just. A. Word." His laughter fills the room once again, maniacal and victorious.

Before he can gloat further, a silver sword suddenly slashes towards his neck.

It is Blade who is striking with full force, his sword aimed for a killing blow—but it slices harmlessly through dark mist instead.

"Oh, Eric, Eric, Eric," Deacon's voice rings out mockingly as the dark mist swirls and reforms into his body a short distance away. His crimson eyes gleam with amusement as he adjusts his coat. "My child, don't you know it is rude to interrupt someone's private conversation?" He grins maliciously. "Looks like, as your father, I will have to teach you some manners!"

"Die, you bitch!" Blade roars, charging forward with unrelenting fury, his silver sword aimed for Deacon's neck once again!

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