American variety show world begins with subduing Jason

Even in the face of death, it's good to be able to enjoy a little warmth...

Iben tightened his khaki down jacket, which was already torn in several places, and thought blankly.

How did things turn out like this? His brain suffered a severe mental shock from the series of sudden events, and he was momentarily dazed.

Even though he has the title of police chief, he is at heart just a rookie policeman who has graduated less than a year ago. He has not experienced any major ups and downs. The fact that he can still maintain his composure on the surface is already a testament to his excellent mental fortitude.

Oh, right... something has suddenly attacked Barrow Town!

Strength so great that it can easily overturn a car and tear flesh apart with bare hands...

He killed many people...

The young sheriff tried his best to sort out his jumbled thoughts.

"Um--"

A painful groan sounded behind him, interrupting his thoughts.

The groan was only half-uttered before it was choked back down.

In the dimly lit, cramped space, several frightened faces crowded around, looking at the boy held in his mother's arms, his shoulder stained with blood. They suppressed their voices and chattered amongst themselves in whispers.

"What should we do? Little York needs treatment... Carl, do you have a first-aid kit at home? Where is it?"

"Yes...yes, it's in the storage room on the first floor, but now...but it's not there..."

The middle-aged man with gray hair twitched his lips, stammered a few sentences, and could no longer speak.

He didn't need to say anything more; the survivors present all understood what he meant.

Those "things" have incredibly sharp eyes and ears; if you're discovered, you're doomed. A whole bunch of neighbors who lived with them day and night have already proven this with their bloody corpses.

The middle-aged woman holding her child looked around hopefully with tears in her eyes, but without exception, everyone lowered their heads and looked ashamed, unable to meet her gaze.

Seeing the deep, bone-revealing wound on her son's shoulder, the woman's eyelids trembled, and tears silently streamed down her face, dripping down her cheeks. She slightly loosened her hand covering the child's mouth, kissed his forehead, and looked at him with eyes full of tenderness.

"Little York, you are a strong man. You must endure the pain and not make a sound. Mom will go and get you some medicine now."

Even though his delicate little face was contorted with pain, the young boy still clenched his teeth and nodded earnestly, though his little hands still instinctively clung to his mother's clothes, unwilling to let go.

With immense reluctance, the woman turned away, steeled herself, and carefully pried open each of her tiny fingers, placing the child into the hands of an old woman before crawling towards the hidden door leading downstairs.

"Stop!"

A deep voice sounded, and the young sheriff reached out to stop her.

His face was hidden in the darkness, only his eyes shone brightly, and his tone was as firm and resolute as steel:

"I am the sheriff, I'll go down!"

Ibn raised his hand to stop the group of people who were trying to persuade him, and said clearly and logically:

“It’s not just little York who needs first aid; everyone needs food and warm clothing!” He pointed to several elderly people huddled together, shivering.

This attic was just a place where the owner usually stored miscellaneous items. Although its location was secluded enough to serve as a temporary refuge, its insulation was far from satisfactory.

It wouldn't be so bad at other times, but today, with heavy snow falling and the polar night when there is no sunlight, it's really hard for most of the people who rushed here to seek refuge wearing only thin clothes.

Young adults may be able to hold on for a while, but the elderly and children probably won't be able to endure it for long.

After calming and persuading everyone, with the help of others, he quietly extended a wooden ladder, descended from the attic into the house, gripped his pistol, and crept towards the storage room on the first floor.

……

In the unlit kitchen, Ibn cautiously hunched over, groping his way forward by the dim light of the fire on the street. The distant screams and wails reached his ears, causing his face to twitch. It took immense willpower to suppress the urge to look outside.

Don't be impulsive. Going out to play the hero will only lead to your death. It's useless. The young man suppressed his humiliation and warned himself.

Those "guys" are not human; they are a bunch of monsters!

He charged forward despite being armed with shotguns by two police officers, crushing the metal barrels and ripping out their hearts, all while remaining unharmed. This horrific scene still haunts his mind.

With his sharp fangs, bloodthirsty actions, and the fragmented words he inadvertently uttered during his killings, everyone had a vague idea of ​​his identity...

Walking around the phone on the table, Ibn didn't stop. He had tried to cut off all external communications by an unknown method right after the attack, and now he could only hope that the outside world would discover the anomaly in the area as soon as possible...

He and his girlfriend Stella agreed to talk on the phone every night. If he couldn't reach her for two consecutive days, she would be very likely to notice something was wrong and report it to the police!

Chapter 216 Slaughter Under the Polar Night 2

"First aid kit, blankets, canned meat... what else was there?"

Iben carefully closed the wooden door of the storage room, making sure no light could get in, before he dared to light a lighter and search for the items he urgently needed.

The warm, orange-yellow flames flickered, illuminating the shelves piled high with food and fuel, calming his flustered heart slightly.

Fortunately, the town is located in a cold and harsh place, and every household has stocked up on a lot of necessities. With these things, as long as they can avoid the monsters' notice, they can hide for ten days or half a month without any problem. By then, the authorities will surely find out that something has happened.

He piled the selected items into the largest thermal blanket, quickly tied the four corners together, weighed the contents, shouldered his haul, and quietly pushed open the door.

Then he stood there frozen!

The lights inside the house had somehow come on. In the living room, about seven or eight meters away, a middle-aged man in a red down jacket with a stern face sat upright in a chair, crossed his legs, licked the blood off his hands, and looked at him with a mocking expression.

The blonde woman, covered in wounds, collapsed silently at the man's feet. Her beautiful eyes were now eerily empty, from which blood that had not yet congealed slowly oozed out—she had been cruelly gouged out.

Mrs. Eva!

The hearty laughter still seemed to linger in my ears, but the once humorous and cheerful bar owner was now a cold corpse.

It's you!

As Ibn stared at the murderer who had killed two of his colleagues just hours earlier, a surge of rage erupted within him like a volcano, washing away all his worries and fears.

"Whoosh!" The package fell to the ground. He nimbly rolled over, half-kneeling behind the table, and then quickly raised his gun to unleash a standard Mozambican shooting technique.

However, the other party's sneer sounded like the words of a demon from legend, making it even harder for him to make up his mind to fire.

"Think carefully. If you fire, those little bugs hiding up there will be exposed!"

The stern-looking man with a buzz cut curled the corners of his mouth, revealing a cat-and-mouse smile.

"There are two options now—if you surrender, I'll let them go for the time being, how about that? Or let me kill them, and I'll let you go for the time being."

Think about it... which is more important, your life or the lives of your fellow human beings?

He looked at the conflicted expression on the human's face, his nostrils flared with excitement, and uttered a tempting suggestion in a tone like that of a serpent in the Garden of Eden.

Torture and toy with these lowly, short-lived races, watching them struggle and eventually break down mentally, is his favorite pastime. Especially since it's said that after today all his people will be leaving the Federation for remote, impoverished areas to slumber for a few years, if I don't take this opportunity to have some fun before they leave, I'll be holding back for a long time...

However, his answer was three bullets that shone with intense heat!

"Bang bang bang!"

Gunshots were mixed with the resolute roar of the young sheriff:

"Damn monster, don't even think about toying with our souls!"

The three brass bullets stopped on the claws shrouded in blood-red light, helplessly deforming and cracking, and were collected into its palm. Then, with a backhand flick, they shot back at a speed no less than when they came.

Amidst the flying sparks, Ibn clutched his split hand and staggered back a step, his police Glock shattered into a pile of parts.

The man's eyes flashed with a fierce light, and he said mockingly, "What a boring fellow. I was thinking that if you could provide some entertainment, I would be more ruthless... Since that's the case, I'll tear off your limbs first!"

Before he finished speaking, a gust of wind swept through the air, and his figure instantly flashed through the entire hall like a ghost. His sharp claws, gleaming with cold light, reached out and grabbed the young sheriff's shoulder, tearing it apart with his five fingers!

"what--!"

A piercing scream rang out, and dark red blood gushed out of his body like a fountain!

Ibn, panting heavily, clutched his undamaged arm in a daze, his gaze shifting from the sharp, severed claws embedded in the floor to the terrifying enemy howling in agony while clutching his severed arm, before finally settling on the tall figure in front of him.

"You weren't reduced to ashes after being wounded by the Demon Hunter? Looks like you have a very pure bloodline. In that case, let's do as you suggested and cut off your limbs first!"

As if the scene from just moments ago were repeating itself, the mysterious black man in the long overcoat coldly mocked.

With a flash of silver light, the man's limbs were instantly separated from his body. Then, pure white light floated up from the wounds, spreading upwards inch by inch, as if burned by flames, turning him into a pile of black ash in a moment.

"Are you Mr. Ibn, the town's sheriff?"

Before the young man, stunned by the fantastical sight, could answer, the black man and the longsword almost merged into one, transforming into a streak of silver light that swept out with lightning speed, annihilating several vampires who had come upon hearing the noise into ashes.

He quickly returned to the house, exchanged a few words with the astonished rescuer, scattered a handful of alchemical amulets, and asked him to bring out all the residents hiding there. [Blade] Eric's deep gaze swept over the corpse of the murdered landlady.

Watching the drops of blood, mixed with the lingering fear and despair, gradually disappear and transform into a mysterious and incomprehensible form, flying into the sky and merging into the heavens that emitted a hazy red spiritual light, a hint of anxiety appeared on his face.

"Hurry! There's only a little time left. If you don't get out soon, you'll all die here!"

……

……

The crisp sound of leather boot buckles striking the flat, hard cement floor echoed through the secret passage, carrying a sense of urgency.

"Your Highness... Your Highness, something terrible has happened!"

A vampire rushed into the underground chamber in a panic, shouting in fear.

"Shut up, you idiot!"

Craven frowned and scolded his subordinates: "Have you forgotten even basic etiquette in front of your superiors? Speak clearly about what's going on."

"No need for further words, I have already 'seen' it..."

In the center of the spacious secret chamber, where the metal throne once stood, it was now enveloped by a scarlet light resembling an eggshell. Young men and women, in the prime of their youth, knelt on the ground in concentric circles, facing this spot.

The bright red blood, as clear and translucent as rubies and brimming with vitality, struggled to escape from their mouths, ears, and eyes, drifting towards the crimson light with an affectionate and adoring air, like swallows returning to their nests, as if that were the final destination of all the blood!

Blood droplets climbed on the crimson light, stretching and deforming, gradually splitting into countless graceful vines and flowers. These flowers, each with a different shape, grew, bloomed, withered, closed, and then grew and bloomed again.

Within the profound and mysterious concept of the cycle of life and death, there is also a touch of eternity.

“It’s that bastard Eric…” Victor’s aged voice came from within the strange light.

"His nose is really sharp, hehe. No need to be too nervous. Once the Eternal Night Ritual is started, it cannot be stopped. Under the suppression of the ritual barrier, he cannot stop us with his strength."

He gave the order in a calm, unwavering tone:

“Any meticulous plan can have unexpected problems. I expected that. If he wants to save people, let him. It’s worth it to have a few extra sacrifices hold him back. Our goal is not to fight him to the death.”

Beneath the blood-red light, his withered and aged eyebrows twitched.

"The lifeblood that has not been pierced by sword is enough."

"Now it is the blood of death, born from slaughter!"