Book 9: Chapter 56: The Final Battle (Three)

“Clack!” Alucard raised his hands, clamping down hard on Father Anderson’s arms which had turned into blades. Fresh blood flowed freely from his palms.

“If this were half a day ago… if this were before tonight… dying at your hands wouldn’t have been a bad outcome!” A cruel grin spread across Alucard’s face. “But not now, not tonight!”

Alucard pulled Father Anderson’s arms out of his body inch by inch. Thick, dark Spirit Blood crawled through Anderson’s veins like countless worms as the blades reverted into flesh. Where the Spirit Blood spread, Father Anderson’s body rotted and crumbled like old wood.

“N-No, Alucard… who kills you doesn’t mean anything!” Anderson’s expression suddenly softened, revealing a faint smile. “Rest now… existence that ought not to be… Amen…”

A soft sigh echoed from behind Anderson even as he prayed.

“You did well, Father Anderson!” The figure of Lancelot flickered into view behind the priest. The Knight of the Round Table stabbed two fingers like a knife toward Anderson’s shoulder. If it pierced through, the strike would hit Alucard’s heart.

Splat! Blood sprayed everywhere. Father Anderson suddenly coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood, his expression frozen in shock. He realized Lancelot’s fingers hadn’t fully penetrated his shoulder—let alone reached the vampire before him.

What’s going on? Anderson turned his head slightly, pupils widening in disbelief. Now standing between him and Lancelot was a woman, one who had somehow blocked the Knight’s killing blow meant for Alucard.

“Master…” Seras slowly turned her head, casting a lovely smile at Alucard’s pale face. Then her body crumpled softly at Lancelot’s feet. She had used herself as a shield to stop the Knight’s strike.

Seras… Mina… Alucard felt something deep within his memory snap like a string. An agonizing ache struck him deep within.

The vampire’s face twisted in an expression both monstrously sad and terrifyingly gleeful. Releasing Anderson, his hands flashed in a blurring X-shape cut. The priest’s eyes widened just a fraction—a sudden lightness swept over him as if he were floating.

Thump! The mangled priest crashed heavily onto the ground, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The writhing flesh vines covering Anderson’s entire body withered instantly into ashy powder and scattered into nothingness.

Father Anderson managed a slight lift of his neck. In his fading vision, he saw the gaping hole where his heart should have been… Alucard standing nearby, holding the pulsing organ itself… and his own lower body, still upright near the vampire but rapidly crumbling into dust.

“Loss accepted…” Anderson whispered peacefully, turning his gaze to the brightening night sky. The first rays of the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, making him squint. “Dawn? Then… Amen.”

“Seras!” Alucard dropped to his knees, carefully lifting the young vampire. He gently wiped the trickle of blood from her lips and held her stiffening body tightly.

Lancelot and Captain America simply watched, unmoving. Neither spoke.

Lancelot glanced back toward the fading remains of Anderson, then returned his gaze to Seras in Alucard’s arms and sighed quietly. “This was never my wish.”

Captain America looked up at the sky, watching Clint’s translucent spirit rise and fade into the lightening blue. A bittersweet smile touched his lips. “Goodbye, old friend.”

Crunch. Alucard crushed the still-beating heart in his palm—Father Anderson’s heart. As it turned to pulp, a rusted iron nail fell clattering to the ground.

This was Anderson’s Christian Relic: Saint Irene’s Nail!

Alucard ignored the nail lying below him. He placed Seras gently upon the earth and stood, calm eyes fixed on the other two.

“Shall we?”

“Grant! A little faster!” Qin Lun urged, unable to hide his excitement. Together they bounded across rooftop after rooftop, heading straight toward HELLSING Headquarters.

The battle below had changed too quickly—Anderson and Seras dead in an instant. But thanks to the Father’s surprise attack, Alucard’s River of Death had shattered. The enslaved Necros were freed—no longer able to slow Qin Lun and Grant.

“You think I can match your speed?” Grant grumbled back. Even layered with Floating Scrolls and Light Body Technique scrolls, he couldn’t keep pace with Qin Lun. The younger man shot ahead again and again aided by Pentagram Crystal Mirrors and Swift Wind Step.

“Oh, Qin Lun! Got any clue what Lancelet’s Relic type is? His attack potency is insane… that female Vamp dropped in a single blow!” Grant asked seriously.

“Didn’t see clearly either—trees blocked my view. If it didn’t strike the heart, Lancelet’s Relic leans toward pure offense. The Holy Grail? Not likely,” Qin Lun frowned slightly and shook his head.

“Huh… our tail’s on us!” Qin Lun suddenly sensed them, looking back. Less than a kilometer behind were two figures—one large, one small—closing fast. By build alone: Liv and the White Giant.

Beyond them? A swirling mass of sand hung in the air—Queen of Sandstorm, Monica. Her speed couldn’t match Liv or the Giant. Now that they’d broken her hold, she’d never catch them again.

“Just hope your plan holds,” Grant glanced back too, his tone steady.

“Already signaled Schrödinger via the cat. If this goes bad, retreat via helicopter,” Qin Lun replied coolly.

Thud! Alucard clashed fists with Lancelot. But the Vampire instantly sensed danger and tilted his head back sharply. Before any movement registered, a gash appeared just beneath his neck.

Alucard’s natural healing stuttered this time. The edges of the wound carried strange black tendrils clinging onto his flesh, actively hindering regeneration.

“So this is your Relic?” Alucard trailed his finger along the wound. After putting his finger to his lips he hissed and spat out a mouthful of tainted, blackened blood. His gaze narrowed on Lanclot.

Even with his preternatural senses only a wispy black outline traced through the air—it had darted out from Lancelot’s fingertip. Whatever its shape, it escaped his sight. Alarm gripped him.

“Indeed. Unlike Anderson who had recently bonded his Saint Irene’s Nail? This Relic flows within my very blood.” Lancelot’s expression never changed as he spoke. “Vampiric regeneration is useless against my touch. Resign to your fate, Alucard.”

“I choose faith over fate!” Alucard laughed sharply as he glanced at the lightening sky. “Besides? Your own time’s running out!”

“It suffices!” Lancelot’s eyes darkened. Both he and the Vampire vanished—locked together again in combat.

After Seras’ death, Captain America abstained from fighting. Killing the girl carried no regret; he just couldn’t ally with the Church again. Seeing Vampire and Vatican actions during this battle stripped away any remaining goodwill toward either faction.

Suddenly Steve Rogers stiffened. He looked sharply towards the east. Light flashed behind his eyes like lightning.

“You finally made your move!” He pressed a device beside him. The S-Police mecha dissolved like liquid quicksilver and flowed over him—engulfing his form. “I knew you’d emerge, Gerthard!”

While Captain America merged with the suit, both Alucard and Lancelot paused momentarily—aware of new arrivals closing in fast at the edge of their senses. But they had no time for distractions. Both fought viciously now—neither dare giving the other a free shot.

“That one’s yours!” Qin Lun and Grant breached the wrecked estate grounds almost simultaneously. Without even exchanging words, the pair separated—charging two different combatants.

“So. Steve Rogers. Our formal first meeting!” Qin Lun laughed, rocketing forward towards the towering form of the S-Police. His figure expanded unnaturally as he flew—metamorphosing instantly into the towering stature of the Iceflame Demon.

During events at Casablanca? Messy circumstances had prevented Qin Lun from ever meeting Captain America face-to-face.

“Gerthard Heinrich!” The mecha’s voice modulation distorted Steve’s tone into a cold synthetic monotone. “Waited long enough. Today… I end you! For Clint! For Lady Kathleen! For Master Dean David! For the scientists on that Military Train! For every innocent soul who bled tonight—from London back to Casablanca!”

You think you can manage that?

Iceflame Demon met the S-Police full-bore. Shockwaves tore through the courtyard—crumbling already broken stones into powder and flinging clods of earth sky-high like shredded mud.

“So that is Gerthard?” Alucard’s mind raced even as he fought. He made a feint then suddenly burst toward the other two combatants like a dark comet.

“You don’t go anywhere.” Lancelot materialized seemingly from nowhere. A wisp-thin shadow blade silently thrust toward Alucard’s spine.

“Scram! Don’t interfere!” Alucard whirled about. That shadow-blade missed by the slimmest margin. Pure, unfiltered fury ignited deep within the Vampire’s eyes.

“Calm yourself. That demon stands equally condemned. After your purification? He too vanishes forever.” Lancelot shot a fleeting glance at the Iceflame Demon still battling Captain America, yet his voice retained eerie tranquility.

You… you have no intention of leaving either? What of the Holy See Crusaders already retreating?” Surprise flickered briefly in Alucard’s eyes. If Lancelet lingered once Allied Supers arrived? The Vatican faced global condemnation.

“Once a sinner? Now only a tool serving the Lord. Politics matter naught. Vanquishing you? All of you? That remains my sole reason.” Lancelet replied placidly.

Alucard suddenly bared his fangs in a sharp grin of comprehension. “Ha! A damned fool too!” He finally tore his focus away from the other battle and lunged once more—directly at the Knight’s heart.