Chapter2

At 11 p.m., the alarm in the underground prison sounded like a throat being torn apart.

I sat in the third-floor cleaning room, a freshly brewed instant coffee in my hand. The alarm sounded for three minutes, then the supervisor's hysterical voice blared over the intercom: "All combat personnel, proceed to the underground prison immediately! SSS-class villain has escaped! Repeat—"

Before I could finish speaking, the entire building shook. I calmly took a sip of my coffee.

Five minutes later, a second explosion came from downstairs. This time it was closer, in the lobby on the first floor. I heard the sound of shattering glass and screams. The screams quickly stopped, replaced by a low laugh.

The laughter came through the public address system.

"The S-class heroes you sent all have blood in their veins."

"Have you even read my ability description?"

Blood Earl.

I put down my coffee cup, stood up, and walked to the window to look down.

The floor-to-ceiling windows in the lobby were shattered. Through the broken glass, I could see a man in a black prison uniform standing inside. He was very thin, as if he were malnourished, and his skin was as pale as a corpse preserved in formaldehyde. His hair was long, reaching his waist, and was an unhealthy dark red, the color of hair that had been soaked in blood for years.

He stood in the center of the hall, with seventeen people in prison uniforms lying at his feet.

The seventeen Class A prisoners were like drained shrimp, their limbs twisted, mouths agape, and eyes wide open. They had no wounds, but beneath each of their skin, a network of black blood vessels writhed like living snakes.

The Blood Count crouched down and placed his hand on the forehead of one of the prisoners.

The prisoner's body began to convulse.

His blood gushed from his seven orifices, not touching the ground in mid-air—the blood seemed alive, suspended in mid-air, twisting, spinning, and then solidifying into the shape of a chair.

It transformed into a throne of blood.

Count Blood sat down, crossed his legs, and laughed like a circus spectator.

"So, who will be the next to be sent to their deaths?"

The elevator doors opened as soon as the words were spoken.

Ares walked out from inside.

Ranked number one in the association, a peak S-class individual, his superpower is "God of War Possession." He stands 1.95 meters tall, his muscles sculpted like marble, and his short blond hair gleams under the emergency lights. He wears a black combat suit, and the association badge on his chest glows—a sign of combat readiness.

He was followed by Gwen, and four other S-class heroes.

Six people, half of the association's strongest fighting force.

The Blood Earl looked at them, his smile deepening.

"Oh, six have arrived."

"Then I won't stand on ceremony."

He snapped his fingers.

Ares rushed out.

His speed was so fast that it was almost invisible to the naked eye, and his fists were radiating golden light, the manifestation of the power of the God of War. With one punch, he could penetrate a three-meter-thick steel plate, cut a B-grade mutated beast in two at the waist, and create a ten-meter-wide ravine in the ground.

His fist was less than ten centimeters from the Blood Earl's face when he stopped.

Ares's body began to tremble. His veins bulged from beneath his skin, like vines swaying in the wind, twisting into terrifying shapes on his neck, arms, and forehead. His fist remained in the throwing posture, but his whole body seemed to be pulled backward inch by inch by invisible ropes.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only vomited blood.

A large amount of blood.

Blood gushed from his mouth, more turbulent than vomit, more violent than a fountain. The blood drew an arc in the air before falling to the ground, splashing up a deep red spray.

Ares knelt down.

The association's number one ranked hero knelt before Count Blood, his hands on the ground, coughing up blood incessantly. His battle suit was soaked in blood, and his golden badge had turned dark red.

Count Blood stood up, walked to him, and knelt down.

"Possessed by the God of War? That sounds impressive."

"But did you know? Even God needs a heart."

He extended a finger and gently touched Ares's forehead.

Ares's body began to convulse. His veins burst beneath his skin, one after another, like shattered glass tubes. Blood seeped from his pores, staining his entire body red.

He fell to the ground, motionless. He was still alive, but had lost the ability to fight.

Gwen screamed and ran out.

Her superpower is "gravity manipulation," which allows her to make a building float in mid-air or crush a person into a pulp under her own weight. She raised her hand, and the ground beneath the Blood Count's feet began to sink, the gravitational field twisted, and the air trembled.

The Blood Earl laughed, and with a snap of his fingers, Gwen froze in mid-air.

She moved at supersonic speed to get behind the Blood Count, intending to launch a surprise attack from behind. But the Blood Count didn't even turn his head. He drew a circle in the air with his finger, and Gwen's blood began to flow backward.

Blood spurted from her fingertips, from her nose, and from her eyes.

She was like a punctured water balloon, blood gushing from every pore of her body. She struggled in mid-air, trying to use gravity to pull herself back to the ground, but the Blood Count's control was stronger.

Her blood didn't fall to the ground.

The blood, as if alive, twisted and swirled in the air before congealing into the shape of chains. These blood chains wrapped around her wrists, ankles, and neck, suspending her in mid-air like a specimen on display.

She struggled to speak, but could only manage broken sobs.

The Blood Earl looked up at her, his smile as gentle as if he were looking at his own work of art.

"Your blood is beautiful."

"I will keep it safe."

The remaining four S-class heroes attacked simultaneously.

Flames, frost, lightning, and sound waves—four supernatural powers—were simultaneously unleashed upon the Blood Earl. The entire hall was illuminated by the energy; the floor began to melt, the walls cracked, and large chunks of concrete collapsed from the ceiling.

Count Blood stood motionless in the center of the attack.

He raised his hands.

All attacks stopped a meter away from him.

It wasn't blocked, it was absorbed.

The energy slammed into an invisible barrier and then dissipated, like water being absorbed by a sponge. The Blood Count's body began to glow, a dark red light, like burning blood.

A circular blood array appeared beneath his feet.

The blood array expanded—one meter, two meters, five meters, ten meters—covering the entire hall. The four S-class heroes, along with the staff hiding in the corner—all fell.

Although he did not die, he had lost control of his body.

The Blood Count snapped his fingers, and blood began to gush from everyone's bodies simultaneously. Blood flowed from their seven orifices, gathering into streams on the ground before flowing towards the blood array beneath the Blood Count's feet.

The blood array is absorbing that blood.

The Blood Count's body began to swell. Not fat, but stronger. His muscles grew, his skin became whiter, and his hair redder. His eyes turned from black to deep red, his pupils reflecting the carnage of the entire hall.

He took a deep breath, as if savoring fine wine.

"Ah, the blood of an S-class hero."

"It's definitely different."

He turned around and looked at the elevator. The elevator doors were still open, and the elevator was empty. He smiled.

Is anyone else here?

"I'm not full yet."

No one answered.

The entire building fell into a deathly silence.

I stood by the window on the third floor, looking down at the lobby on the first floor.

Ares lay in a pool of blood, Gwen was hanging from the ceiling, and the other four S-class heroes lay unconscious on the ground. Count Blood sat on his Blood Throne, legs crossed, like an audience member waiting for the next act.

I picked up the mop that was on the windowsill.

I pushed open the door to the cleaning room and walked towards the stairs. The "snap-snap" sound of the mop handle dragging on the floor was particularly clear in the quiet corridor.

I went down the stairs slowly, step by step, without rushing or getting impatient.

I went up to the second floor and saw that the electronic screen on the wall was still displaying today's rankings. My name was at the very bottom, 987th, with the ability: Cleanse.

I continued walking down.

When I walked into the lobby on the first floor, Count Blood noticed me.

He turned his head and looked at me, his eyes full of curiosity.

"Oh? There's one more?"

I didn't say anything.

I simply walked to the center of the hall, looked down at the pool of blood on the ground—Ares's blood, Gwen's blood, the blood of the other four S-class heroes, and the blood of the seventeen prisoners, all mixed together, forming a thick layer on the marble floor.

The Blood Count stood up and walked towards me. His foot stepped into the pool of blood, splashing up a deep red spray.

"Who are you?"

I looked up at him.

"Marcus Gray."

"Cleaner at the association building."

Count Blood paused for a second, then laughed.

He laughed so hard he bent over, and tears streamed down his face.

"A cleaner? Hahahaha! A cleaner!"

"You're here to mop the floor?"

I wrung out the mop and pressed the mop head into the pool of blood on the ground.

"Yes."

"You have shed too much blood."

"You've dirtied my floor."