Hearing Wednesday's analysis, Vic's stomach dropped. But immediately, a wave of hesitation washed over him.
How was he supposed to bring this up? Just march over to Uncle Drac and shout, "Hey! That hot captain you're crushing on is probably plotting your demise!"?
Yeah, right. Uncle Drac's heart had been dormant for over a century. It was barely starting to beat again.
If Vic dumped a bucket of ice water on him now, the old vampire might just give up on love entirely and go back to sleeping in his coffin for another hundred years.
"Hey, wait!" Enid suddenly tugged on his arm, whispering excitedly. "The vibe between them... it looks like it's getting better?"
Vic squinted. She was right!
Over at the bar, Uncle Drac seemed to realize just how disastrous his "fart interrogation" had been.
His pale face wore a rare look of embarrassment and sincerity. He leaned in slightly, speaking to Captain Ericka in a low voice.
Using his super-hearing, Vic caught a few keywords:
"...apologies... rude of me... after my wife passed... over a hundred years... never..."
Damn! Uncle Drac was playing the "century-old widower, pure and helpless" card!
Sincerity really was the ultimate weapon.
Captain Ericka, who had been looking at him with suspicion and anger, visibly softened when he mentioned his late wife and a century of loneliness.
Her natural empathy kicked in, washing away the awkwardness and doubt.
She even picked up the conversation, sharing her own stories about the loneliness and hardships of being a captain on the open sea.
They had actually found common ground. The conversation flowed, and the atmosphere was even warmer than before.
Vic scratched his head. Now he was in a real bind.
"So... what do we do?"
He looked at Wednesday with a pained expression.
"Do I go over there and ruin the moment? Oh, my dear Uncle Drac would hang me from the mast like a side of beef."
After agonizing over it, Vic decided on the only logical course of action—do nothing!
"Forget it, forget it~" He waved his hand dismissively.
"Think positive. Even if Captain Ericka has some shady agenda, she's just a human. What can she actually do to a top-tier monster like Uncle Drac?"
He started counting on his fingers:
"Poison? Vampire resistance is maxed out. Assassination? Uncle Drac is immortal. What else... dragging him out for a tanning session?"
Vic chuckled at the thought.
"Ever since those genius Da Vincis at Nevermore invented 'Vampire Sunblock SPF 1,000,000+', sunlight is a joke! It's basically just a warm bath now."
He shrugged at Wednesday. "I seriously can't think of a single way a human could threaten Uncle Drac."
Wednesday stood with her arms crossed, glancing at the happily chatting couple. She delivered a rare joke, dry and dark as ever.
"Perhaps she can summon the Kraken."
"Ha!" Vic laughed out loud. Even his wild imagination couldn't keep up with that leap.
"Summon the Kraken? Wednesday, you've been reading too many fairy tales. If a human could actually control that thing..."
He leaned in close to her, lowering his voice with a teasing grin.
"I will gladly lie down and let you step on my face! Stomp away!"
"Bwahahaha!"
He cracked himself up with his own ridiculous bet.
---
A few hours later.
"BAD DAY! BAD DAY! BAD DAY! BAD DAY!!"
Agonized screams and heavy footsteps echoed through the majestic ruins of Atlantis.
Vic, now merged with Venom and swollen to massive proportions, was sprinting for his life. He ducked clumsily as a tentacle the size of a siege tower swept overhead, covered in suckers!
One giant arm was wrapped tightly around Wednesday and Enid's waists. The other hand clutched little Dennis, Winnie, and Johnny like a handful of baby chicks. He was running across the Atlantean seabed like his life depended on it—because it did.
Running beside him was an equally disheveled Jackie Chan.
Clutching a screaming Jade under his arm, Jackie was sprinting with every ounce of strength he had, his signature catchphrase playing on loop.
And chasing them was a shadow so massive it blocked out the underwater sky—a terror the size of a mountain.
The Kraken!
Its colossal tentacles thrashed wildly, smashing ancient architecture like Lego bricks, kicking up massive currents and clouds of dust!
Just moments ago, the Legacy had arrived at Atlantis. The party atmosphere had reached its peak.
The monsters were having the time of their lives in the lost city, which had been converted into a combo aquarium-casino-dance club.
That was when a figure climbed onto the highest point in the city center—a makeshift DJ booth rigged with strange equipment.
The moonlight illuminated a weathered face with sharp, fanatical eyes, and a body that was partially replaced by crude, antique mechanics.
Abraham Van Helsing, the legendary monster hunter from centuries past, had entered the chat.
Standing beside Van Helsing, head bowed and refusing to meet Dracula's eyes, was Captain Ericka.
Her silence and evasive gaze said everything.
"Monsters!"
Van Helsing's voice, amplified by the speakers, echoed coldly through the ancient city. He spoke with the conviction of a zealot.
"Welcome to your final resting place! This lost tomb is fitting for scum like you—relics of the past that should have been swept into the dustbin of history long ago!"
He spread his arms like a prophet delivering a divine decree.
"Centuries of hiding and planning have culminated in this night! I thank my great-granddaughter for leading you fools perfectly into this isolated trap!"
His fingers danced across an electronic keyboard on the DJ booth. A strange, ethereal, and undeniably magical electronic melody erupted, spreading like invisible ripples into the deep sea.
"This ancient score is the key to commanding the beast of the deep! Feel the wrath of the abyss!"
The moment the melody played, something ancient and terrible awoke in the pitch-black trenches far away.
The seawater began to churn violently. The entire foundation of Atlantis trembled.
A primal fear, rooted in the instinct of every living thing, gripped the hearts of every monster present.
"No... Ericka..."
Dracula looked at the woman who had stirred his heart. His eyes were filled with the sting of betrayal and a disbelief that cut deeper than any silver stake.
Captain Ericka never looked up. Her shoulders trembled slightly.
Van Helsing, however, wore a cold, cruel smile of victory.
The shadow of the deep was closing in fast. The Kraken had awakened.
---
"Wednesday!"
Vic yelled as he ran, turning his head to look at the girl in his arms who was still miraculously calm. His voice was laced with disbelief and panic.
"When you step on my face later, can you wash your feet first? Not that I mind the natural scent or anything, but I personally prefer something floral!"
Even in this life-or-death chase, Wednesday didn't hesitate to roll her eyes at him.
"You have the mental capacity to think about that right now? Perhaps focus on dealing with the giant cephalopod behind us."
"Deal with it?!"
Vic's voice cracked.
"That's like asking a goldfish to fight a shark! Me versus the Kraken? That's a guaranteed loss! Buy one death, get one free!"
Suddenly, a plan—bold, insane, and arguably suicidal—flashed through Vic's mind like lightning.
"Wait!" He slammed on the brakes, skidding and carving deep grooves into the ground. "Actually... it might not be totally impossible..."
Demonic Qi... The Talismans...
"If I use these..."