Chapter 714: Chapter 714: Testing the Reaper
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As Henry looked at the unidentified Elder and the group of women behind her bearing the Assassin’s compass-and-hook insignia, several thoughts flashed through his mind.
Don’t tell me... they’re actually that organization?
The Continental’s backing is really this powerful?
If that’s true... does Abstergo Industries exist in this world too?
He made a mental note to check North America’s corporate registration records later.
But the Elder had already asked her question twice.
A trace of impatience had begun to appear on her face.
If he delayed any longer, things might become unpleasant.
Not wanting to start a conflict, Henry stepped out from the crowd and knelt beside the unfortunate creature lying on the floor.
Despite having all four limbs severed and its mouth ripped apart, strange green blood continued to ooze from the Reaper’s wounds.
Most of its blood had probably drained away during the trip here.
Even so, it still writhed hungrily toward every living person it saw.
Naturally, Henry wasn’t intimidated.
Whether the thing was dangerous or hideous didn’t matter.
He simply flipped it onto its back.
"Anyone have a knife I can borrow?"
The woman in the black suit—the one who had carried the Reaper inside—produced a kukri seemingly out of nowhere.
With a casual flick of her wrist, she sent it spinning through the air.
The blade embedded itself upright in the floor directly in front of Henry.
It wasn’t exactly the most polite way to hand someone a knife.
Henry couldn’t be bothered to care.
Picking it up, he sliced open the Reaper’s abdomen, cut into its stomach, and began removing the contents one item at a time.
Almost everyone present had blood on their hands.
But that didn’t mean everyone was comfortable watching an impromptu autopsy.
Even those who managed not to gag felt their hearts skip a beat and their breathing become noticeably heavier.
Only the female Elder and the people she had brought watched calmly, their expressions unchanged.
Henry wasn’t doing this simply to disgust everyone.
He wanted to determine what exactly the Reapers ate.
Ordinary vampires—the kind Blade hunted—derived almost all their energy from human blood.
They could technically consume normal food.
Unlike the vampires in certain fantasy novels, eating ordinary food didn’t make them vomit immediately.
The problem was that their digestive systems couldn’t properly break it down.
Food simply accumulated inside their stomachs and intestines.
Even after passing through their bodies, it remained largely unchanged.
Reapers were different.
The acid inside their stomachs was incredibly potent.
Where it splashed onto clothing, the fabric immediately began dissolving and corroding.
Henry carefully removed the stomach’s contents and arranged everything neatly on the floor beside him.
Fortunately, the Continental’s dining room had stone flooring rather than carpet.
That would make Winston Scott’s cleanup considerably easier afterward.
Not that Henry had much concern for the manager’s housekeeping problems at the moment.
There were no clearly recognizable human limbs inside the stomach.
Most of what he found consisted of torn chunks of meat.
Without DNA testing, identifying the original species would be nearly impossible.
However, when he reached several internal organs, Henry began sorting them by type.
Most obvious among them...
Was half of a human heart bearing unmistakable bite marks.
"Is that..."
The female Elder crouched beside him.
"...a human heart?"
She reached out and casually nudged it with a finger.
A second later, she frowned slightly as the stomach acid began eating into her skin.
Without concern, she simply wiped the acid off on the leg of her suit.
"It should be."
Henry nodded.
"Besides the heart...
"There’s a liver.
"A pancreas.
"And half a kidney."
"Judging by their size...
"They all appear to belong to an adult human."
"So..."
"They’re almost certainly human organs."
"A man-eating monster."
The Elder murmured quietly.
Henry looked up.
"Did you recover the severed limbs?"
The Elder gestured silently.
One of her subordinates tossed over a bundled package.
Inside were the Reaper’s detached arms and legs, tied together.
Their blood had long since drained away.
The unmistakable stench of a corpse hung heavily around them.
Henry turned toward Winston.
"Mr. Scott.
"Does the hotel have anti-vampire ammunition or weapons?
"Garlic extract.
"Silver blades.
"Ultraviolet rounds."
Although Black Superman had originally provided the equipment necessary to manufacture specialized ammunition to Whistler and the other vampire hunters, he had also distributed the blueprints freely.
Anyone who needed them was welcome to manufacture or improve upon them.
The advantage was obvious.
No single weapons workshop becoming a vulnerable point.
Otherwise, the vampires could simply raid one factory and cripple the hunters’ entire ammunition supply.
Now that everyone could produce them independently...
There was no longer a single source to eliminate.
Although vampires occupied one of the twelve seats of the High Table, individual Continental hotels functioned more like independent franchises.
As long as each hotel obeyed the core rules, the High Table couldn’t interfere excessively.
In other words...
Even if vampires held a seat at the High Table, they couldn’t simply forbid Continental hotels from accepting contracts targeting vampires.
Nor could they prevent hotels from stockpiling anti-vampire weaponry.
After all...
The Continental’s business was humans killing humans.
Why should vampires receive special protection?
Members of the High Table.
Even Elders.
Anyone could become a target.
As long as the client offered enough money—or enough favors.
Those were the real rules governing the Continental.
It wasn’t long before one of the staff returned carrying a silver tray.
On it rested:
An unloaded pistol.
Two magazines.
One loaded with silver nitrate ammunition.
The other with ultraviolet rounds.
There was also a syringe filled with concentrated garlic extract.
And finally...
A silver dagger.
Henry picked up the syringe first.
Just before injecting the Reaper, he suddenly paused and looked around at everyone.
"This doesn’t count as conducting business inside the hotel, does it?"
Several people couldn’t help smiling despite themselves.
Winston sighed.
"Mr. Brown...
"Is that really what you’re worried about right now?"
Henry shrugged.
"I’d rather not get myself excommunicated from the Continental and end up with an international kill order on my head.
"Sounds troublesome."
The Elder stepped in before anyone else could answer.
"Does the Continental forbid people from cutting up a steak?"
She asked calmly.
"No."
"So whatever you do to..."
She glanced at the mutilated Reaper.
"...this thing...
"Doesn’t violate any rules."
"Carry on, kid."
Just like that...
The unfortunate Reaper had officially been downgraded to the legal status of steak.
Judging from the hatred and ravenous hunger burning in the monster’s eyes, however, all it wanted was fresh flesh and blood.
It showed no anger.
No humiliation.
Not even the slightest reaction to being mocked.
That alone strongly suggested Henry’s suspicion was correct.
The Reapers’ intelligence had significantly deteriorated.
Otherwise, it wouldn’t have ignored the Elder’s words so completely.
Without hesitation, Henry plunged the syringe into the creature and injected every last drop of garlic extract.
The Reaper convulsed violently.
But that was all.
After waiting a short while...
It resumed crawling across the floor.
Henry immediately picked up the magazine loaded with silver rounds and awkwardly inserted it into the empty pistol.
He aimed directly at the Reaper.
Pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
John Wick, standing beside him, spoke flatly.
"The safety’s still on."
"Oh."
Henry looked at the pistol from side to side.
"Which side is the safety on?"
Watching him fumble with the unfamiliar handgun, John finally held out his hand.
"Give me the gun."
"I’ll do it."
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