It seemed there had been a misunderstanding between him and Blade.
According to Duncan's plan, he intended to quietly capture a few vampires. However, in Blade's view, there was no need to capture anyone—just lure the vampires directly, and Duncan could handle the rest.
"Six of them, huh? That'll do," Duncan muttered to himself after counting the vampires. With his current abilities, taking on six vampires was more than manageable.
George, watching the harmless-looking young man, grew frantic and shouted, "Run! These guys are dangerous!"
"I know, I know," Duncan replied softly, deliberately ignoring the blood-soaked scene on the ground, as if he hadn't noticed it at all.
It made sense; it was nighttime, and they were about a hundred meters apart.
One vampire lifted his head, blood dripping from his mouth, and rushed toward Duncan with excitement.
Dennis sensed something was wrong but didn't speak, instead observing closely with his keen eyesight.
Predictably, the human would soon be pinned to the ground by the vampire, who would sink his fangs into his neck—after all, vampires were far superior to ordinary humans in terms of strength and speed.
George's face turned pale. He wanted to save the young man but knew all too well what kind of creatures vampires were. Yet, at this distance, it seemed too late to intervene.
The vampire was just about to bite Duncan's neck when—
Swish!
A tail, gleaming with a silver sheen, suddenly shot out from the darkness. It grazed Duncan's shoulder, stabbing forward with silent, lethal precision, aiming directly at the vampire's face.
"Chest," Duncan commanded calmly.
The tip of the tail adjusted slightly, piercing through the vampire's chest with a swift motion. Like a skewer threading meat, the vampire was impaled and lifted high into the air.
A shrill scream erupted. Though the vampire's vitality was strong enough to prevent instant death, terror mixed with disbelief filled his expression.
What is this thing?!
A faint clattering sound broke the tension.
Moments later, several ghostly figures darted through the shadows, surrounding the vampires at close range.
Dennis frowned, scrutinizing these strange creatures.
"Four of them… What are they?" he muttered in surprise.
This place was a nexus of confusion: inexplicably arriving police, a peculiar human, and bizarre creatures.
Dennis thought of the special blood he'd encountered before and used his enhanced night vision to study the alien-like beings.
Upon closer inspection, they shared a general design but displayed subtle differences. Some were slightly bulkier, while others were slimmer, emphasizing speed and agility.
The only commonality was that all four creatures moved on all fours. Yet Dennis felt an unsettling vibe, as if these creatures, despite their similar appearances, were fundamentally different beasts wearing identical disguises.
George and the others were equally stunned, their mouths agape at the scene unfolding before them. None of this was within their expectations.
"You know Blade? So, you're the one supplying him with those strange weapons," Dennis said.
At this distance, even with their quiet tones, both sides could hear each other clearly.
"Correct. But there's been a slight hiccup. Killing you might help correct it," Duncan said, his eyes fixed on the vampire skewered by the alien's tail.
Fortunately, the vampire wasn't dead—just a chest wound. If he was brought back in time, he could still be saved.
"The liquid you provided Blade—is it blood? Where does it come from? Don't tell me you made it yourself… or…" Dennis's gaze shifted repeatedly between the aliens, his expression growing more puzzled.
Though it sounded absurd, the more possibilities he ruled out, the more it seemed connected to these strange but powerful creatures.
The sheer strength of the alien's tail, effortlessly impaling a robust vampire, was proof enough of its extraordinary power.
"Attack," Duncan ordered.
The other three aliens sprang into action, lunging at the remaining vampires. The one closest to Duncan also joined the fray.
The vampires immediately drew their guns and fired at the aliens.
They were quick to assess the situation—realizing the aliens excelled at close combat, they opted to rely on firearms instead.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The aliens began to sustain minor injuries, yet they seemed unfazed, continuing their assault. As they closed in, blood began to drip from their wounds, sizzling upon contact with the vampires' bodies.
"Ahhh! My foot's burning!"
"Be careful! Their blood is highly corrosive—it's like the weapons the Daywalker uses, but much stronger!"
With their suspicions confirmed, the vampires were even more horrified.
What kind of monstrosity is this?!
Even their spilled blood could harm enemies—this defied reason. For such creatures to even exist was a nightmare in itself.
It was as if these beings were born to be living weapons, designed solely for combat.
Gunshots rang out incessantly. Some vampires, driven by rage, abandoned their firearms and charged into melee combat, only to realize their mistake almost instantly.
One alien opened its mouth and spat a stream of corrosive blood directly at a vampire, incapacitating him in an instant.
One by one, the vampires fell. Strangely, none of them died. Their limbs were brutally torn off, leaving them writhing on the ground in agony.
The harder the vampires fought, the more injuries they inflicted on the aliens, and the more of the aliens' corrosive blood splattered onto them, multiplying their suffering.
Even Dennis was stunned. The aliens' combat abilities left him speechless—they were well-trained, executing flawless tactics without any verbal or physical communication. Their individual combat prowess was formidable, and they were utterly fearless of pain or death.
No—on second thought, it wasn't fearlessness. It was that their injuries and deaths served as weapons, a calculated aspect of their design.
"Enough! Stop! I came here to negotiate!"
Dennis shoved an alien off himself and, seeing his men incapacitated, shouted desperately. With a sweeping motion, he aimed at Duncan and fired.
His aim was precise.
But Duncan merely tilted his body slightly, dodging the bullet with ease.
Dennis's expression darkened as he fired again and again, yet not a single shot hit its mark.
This wasn't luck—it indicated that Duncan's physical capabilities far exceeded those of ordinary humans, at least in terms of heightened perception and reflexes.
An alien pounced on Dennis, its corrosive blood seeping into his flesh. He let out a pained scream, filled with regret. He'd underestimated his opponent.
He should've brought reinforcements.
But even then, against such nimble and lethal enemies, it might not have made a difference.
Most frustrating of all, Dennis still had no idea who his opponents were or what they wanted.
"Six vampires—excellent," Duncan said as he walked over, unharmed, looking at the wounded yet living vampires with satisfaction.
"You're sparing us to negotiate? Fine, what do you want? Money? Status? Power?" Dennis asked, relieved that none of his men had died.
As long as there was room for negotiation, there was hope for survival—and possibly revenge later.
"None of that," Duncan replied. "What I need is for you all to stay alive for the next few hours. I can't wait to verify something crucial… using you creatures who survive by feeding on human blood."
His voice carried an unsettling curiosity, like the devil whispering in the dark.