Walter, as the butler of the Hellsing Organization, was never just a simple old man on the verge of death.
In his youth, he was known as a formidable warrior, even reaching the pinnacle of human combat prowess.
Using his specially crafted wires, he could effortlessly strangle monstrous beings. His formidable physique also placed him in the realm of the extraordinary.
With his physical capabilities alone, he could fight vampires or werewolves. The lesser vampire scum didn't even qualify to battle him.
Alas, humanity ultimately cannot escape the fate of aging.
Aging is terrifying for all beings. It means that muscles honed through countless trials become slack, and smooth, resilient skin becomes wrinkled.
One must face the pain of interrupted sleep due to nightly awakenings and the necessity of abandoning former passions, whether it be appetite or the desire for procreation.
Every day, one feels their body quickly growing weary, no longer able to focus entirely on the task at hand.
Even subtle movements can make the body groan under the strain.
Who can remain untouched when old age arrives?
At least Walter, a warrior who once stood at humanity's peak, could not.
Though he vehemently disliked admitting his decline, he knew that his current strength was less than half of his prime.
Fragile hand bones could no longer manipulate special wires to pull the bodies of monsters, and even if he managed to cut them, his hands would bear scars.
Walter was unwilling to accept this!
"Luke, did you sense the aura around that butler? That mix of wickedness that's gradually fading."
Jessica and Luke were currently in their room, feeling a bit idle. Jessica was tidying the bed while speaking to Luke, her movements a little unpracticed.
After all, she used to be completely indifferent to the quality of life. Her former zombie-like state felt like a nightmare.
Waking up messy every day was normal, and most of the time, a perpetually hungover Jessica wouldn't be skilled at housework. That was perfectly understandable.
Fortunately, she was changing now.
"But what does that have to do with us? He's a Hellsing agent, dedicated to killing monsters. Who's to say that all the monsters he's killed were truly bad guys?"
Luke sat on a chair by the table, watching Jessica slowly smooth out the wrinkles on the bed, a smile on his face.
Everything in the room was brand new; there were no wrinkles on the bed when they entered.
If Jessica hadn't just thrown herself onto the bed, she wouldn't be meticulously smoothing it out now.
Luke had no intention of delving into Walter's past. He never liked knowing other people's secrets.
Sometimes, a complete lack of understanding allows for better coexistence. Luke firmly believed in this.
"I just never thought there were so many unseen secrets in this world."
Jessica stood up and looked at Luke, quietly observing the man she loved.
Her movements seemed a bit nervous; her trembling hands were visible to the naked eye.
"Alright, Jessica, instead of thinking about this, why don't you get some good sleep? Thinking about these things isn't suited for you and me."
Luke stood up and walked over to Jessica, pulling his lover into his embrace.
This seemingly simple-minded man knew how to cherish his loved one; he was a trustworthy person.
"I'm someone who only looks at what's in front of me, and right now... only you are in front of me."
Luke reached out and caressed Jessica's face, bringing their gazes together.
"Luke, I know, but I think fighting has to have meaning. I once saw some of Orlac's memories, and compared to him, I'm just an unlucky wretch who committed blood debts."
Jessica didn't shy away from Luke's gaze; she was very earnest in her communicative stance.
After witnessing Orlac's almost noble way of fighting, Jessica harbored more doubts about her own existence.
She knew she couldn't achieve that level of nobility and purity.
"Are you trying to say that justice is always vague?"
Luke grinned.
"Is there any fight more just than fighting for the survival space of those who can't resist? Or is there anything more righteous than fighting for the weak?"
A metallic sheen began to glow along Luke's skin.
Steel Nerves!
This was a talent that some of the earliest barbarians could begin to learn and master, and one of their most important talents.
When suffering a fatal injury, they would resist death through the power of their bloodline.
For the next three seconds, they could virtually ignore all damage.
That damage reduction of up to 95% was enough to give a barbarian warrior a chance to turn the tide.
To kill a barbarian with the "Steel Nerves" talent, one had to either overpower them with irresistible force or use a continuous barrage of powerful attacks.
Attacks that could only be unleashed once in a long while wouldn't be enough to take down a barbarian with the "Steel Nerves" talent.
Luke only had significant flaws in body control, but he was indeed a very talented warrior.
"Luke, I'm just saying, don't you ever make mistakes?"
Jessica didn't pay too much attention to the changes in Luke's body. She spoke to Luke with concern, her arms wrapped around his neck, gripping a little tighter.
"It's enough for me to remember that I'm human. There's no right or wrong when facing entities that harm humans. When facing humans, I will only stop the evil happening before my eyes. Jessica, you haven't seen the images recorded by Mount Arreat, that's why you're hesitating."
Luke tried to organize his words, pausing for a moment before continuing:
"Bul-Kathos did just that. Only by acting at that moment is it called upholding justice, but he couldn't uphold justice for the entire world, so what he did afterward was called revenge."
Luke said, pulling out the "fairy tale" that chronicled Madoc's life from his backpack and placing it in Jessica's hand.
"Jessica, this is the 'fairy tale' of Ancestor Madoc. Perhaps you can understand something from it."
Luke turned around and sat back in the chair, looking at the somewhat perplexed Jessica with calm eyes.
Luke wasn't smart, but he wasn't foolish either.
He was just a bit too straightforward.
Having grown up on the streets, he had his share of bad habits, but he was still kind and righteous.
"Alright, I'll read this 'fairy tale,' but Matthew seems to have gone looking for Hellboy."
Jessica calmed herself down and spoke to Luke. Matthew's actions were no secret to these barbarian recruits.
"That's Matthew's business. We only need to show up when it's time to fight. So now, my beautiful lady, would you like to experience this soft bed?"
Luke lifted Jessica into his arms, speaking with a smile.
Matthew, by all accounts, should have been the most rule-abiding kind of person, given his profession as a lawyer.
A lawyer's job, besides exploiting loopholes in rules, is to uphold the very existence of those rules.
After all, this profession exists because of rules, so they become their proponents.
However, Matthew now had a slightly different perspective on rules.
It wasn't a "survival of the fittest" kind of view, but rather a realization that rules only protect those who abide by them. For those who seek to break rules, the same methods should be used to deal with them.
Human rules only apply to the act of throwing the grenade itself; they don't make monsters abide by them.
So, what he wanted to do was to make those monsters understand how to fear humanity.
Even if this goal was still distant, it didn't stop him from taking action.
Coincidentally, demons were exactly such beings.
They scorned rules, gaining power and a sense of existence by breaking all rules. Therefore, Matthew held no pity or saintly attitude towards demons.
Even when facing Hellboy, he harbored animosity. He always felt that Hellboy's very existence was full of questions.
Pure-blooded demons and pure humans weren't strange, but a hybrid of human and demon was highly unusual.
Demons don't easily produce bloodline descendants, as this dilutes their own power.
Matthew felt it was necessary to meet Hellboy, which would also allow him to uncover some of Hellsing's hidden secrets.
He was highly cautious of aberrations.
Matthew muffled his footsteps, making his way down the corridor.
Using sound and aura, he could easily find paths that ordinary people couldn't.
And the Hellsing basement was just such a place.
Not far behind him, the Blade was doing the same thing.
The difference was that Blade wasn't following Hellboy's aura, nor was he trailing Matthew's footsteps.
He walked step by step, guided by the sense of dread emanating from his body, aiming to find the source of his fear.
That feeling of his blood being out of control made him very uncomfortable. All the vampire scum that had made him uncomfortable had already turned to dust beneath his blade. This time, he intended to overcome his fear in his usual manner.
"Madam, I feel our cooperation with S.H.I.E.L.D. was a bit abrupt, at least this timing isn't suitable."
Walter was in Integra's office, expressing his opinion. This aging warrior could clearly discern that Steve and his team wouldn't obediently stay in their rooms.
This wasn't some special ability, but the life experience of an old man.
Steve and his team put considerable pressure on him. Even though he was a battle-hardened old warrior, he couldn't deny that his condition was rapidly declining.
He adjusted his gloves, ready to engage in combat at any moment.
To fight better, Walter had to spend some time preparing his state in advance.
After all, he wasn't what he used to be. Even less "intense" battles could make his body groan under the strain, that feeling of weakness in his lumbar spine full of the traces of age.
"Walter, I'm well aware of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s modus operandi, but what do they want from us? We only have one entity here that would attract their attention, and that's Alucard."
Integra's glasses reflected the light. This spirited woman remained composed.
Integra, a descendant of Van Hellsing, was always a valiant warrior.
She had never learned to fully compromise. S.H.I.E.L.D. would only find mutual utilization with her.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s size was immense. Even though the Hellsing Organization was a semi-official British organization, it had no intention of directly confronting S.H.I.E.L.D.
This cooperation was, in fact, her limited "compromise." This "compromise" was a tactical retreat for Hellsing to advance further.
Nick Fury successfully persuaded Integra with high-tech products and intelligence exchanges, making Hellsing attempt to provide S.H.I.E.L.D. with occult assistance.
This was also a result that Alucard tacitly approved.
And what Integra sought was higher political standing. Merely being semi-official couldn't satisfy this exceptionally strong-willed woman.
"Perhaps we shouldn't always compromise?"
Walter's fingers displayed patterns formed by metallic threads, resembling the string figures children play, only his patterns were far more complex.
"Alucard will give them a suitable lesson, Walter. I recall you once said, 'Aging gracefully is a British romance,' didn't you? Sometimes, elders aren't suited for public appearances."
Integra placed a freshly cut cigar into her mouth. Walter naturally lit the cigar for her.
"Then do you need me to handle the subsequent trouble?"
Walter only spoke after retracting his match.
He never did two things at once; it was a matter of decorum.
"I think Alucard will handle it. I just need you to inform Seras to stay quietly in her room. I don't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to turn their attention to her."
The smoke from Integra's mouth completed a cycle as she spoke, and the scent of cigar filled the room.
"So, does the Vatican side still require further negotiation? They haven't given us an explanation for the matter of Alexander Anderson."
Walter obediently took a step back and bowed his head.
The special threads between his fingers also disappeared.
"No need. S.H.I.E.L.D. will handle the negotiation for us."
A peculiar glint flashed across Integra's glasses.
S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to use Hellsing, and Hellsing likewise wanted to use S.H.I.E.L.D.
It was important to remember that regarding official power, no matter the organization, they had to give S.H.I.E.L.D. some face, as this organization's authority was simply too vast.
So vast that all nations wanted a hand in it, and the Vatican desperately needed this political leverage.
As one of the top powers in the occult, the Church's political power was almost comically weak.
Political standing depends on national strength, and the Vatican's national strength could be described as feeble.
"As you wish, Madam."
Walter replied without raising his head.
To him, "butler" was his primary identity. Walter the Death God had aged.
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