I made up myths in America

Chapter 123 I, Dio, am not dead!

“Incredible, this is simply incredible.”

Hours later, while the UK Office for National Statistics was still tallying the various losses caused by the disaster.

A group of elderly men, all over sixty years old, appeared at a military base near London. Their faces were flushed as they watched Brad Leto, who was supposed to be a brain cancer patient and not have long to live, suddenly become incredibly brave, smashing three active Challenger 2 main battle tanks into a pile of scrap metal with his bare hands.

With such physical attributes and terrifying strength, they dared not even imagine how exhilarating it would be if Lord Gawain descended upon them.

But Brad Leto quickly poured cold water on the group of old men, saying they were overthinking it.

The reason he performed so well, and the cancer in his body miraculously disappeared, was because his ancestor Gawain, considering him one of his own, left a seed of knightly power within him.

This is not a privilege that everyone receives.

Moreover, if he wants this knight seed to take root, sprout, and truly become powerful, he still needs to complete a knight trial task set up by the ancestor Gawain.

"If this trial proves difficult, don't hesitate to tell me, my child; the whole of England is on your side."

Charles, who finally had the opportunity to get closer to one of the only two superhumans in the country, smiled broadly and acted like a kind and benevolent elder.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony, Your Majesty."

Brad's eyes lit up upon hearing this.

Having grown up roaming the streets, the reason he could patiently chat with these seventy- and eighty-year-old men for so long was because he was waiting for this sentence.

"The knight's trial task set for me by my ancestor Gawain is to slay a dragon with limited access to modern weapons. I wonder how everyone plans to help me?!"

Brad looked expectantly at these important British figures.

"what???"

Meeting his gaze, the friendly expressions on everyone's faces froze, as if they had been tricked by this kid.

Meanwhile, at the BPRD headquarters, inside the Natural History Museum in London.

Although many BPRD agents hadn't slept all night and had dark circles under their eyes, they still had to force themselves to stay awake, drink a cup of black coffee to refresh themselves, and continue with a series of cleanup tasks.

For example, arrange for people to retrieve the three relic bullets that Dio carelessly threw into the Thames, and communicate with Emma's parents to find a way to buy the magical sheep charm from them.
And to find a way to persuade the two middle-class men who didn't want their daughters involved in these dangerous things, so that Emma could be listed as an extraordinary consultant in their department.

In addition, there was the flesh and blood left behind by the Templar Knight who self-destructed, and the St. Blade Church where the vampire king Alucard slept.
There are just too many things that need their attention.

So much so that, with someone in the monitoring room helping to cover it up, no one noticed that a piece of vampire flesh had been switched and taken out.

And soon, this vampire flesh appeared in the bedroom of a big shot in London.

"Ho ho."

The elegantly and understated room, furnished with a multi-functional monitor, electrocardiograph, and oxygen supply device, resembles a hospital. A highly professional medical team is on standby 24 hours a day to provide the most professional and meticulous service to the elderly man lying in bed who was diagnosed with extensive-stage small cell lung cancer five years ago and whose breathing sounds like a broken bellows.

This expense alone consumes tens of millions of pounds of resources every year, but it's nothing to this emaciated old man lying in his hospital bed.

Because he has so many titles.

Prince Edward, grandson of King George V, cousin of Queen Elizabeth II, Duke of Kent, Earl of St Andrews, Baron Don Patrick, Member of the House of Lords, and former Field Marshal.
Each title would be enough for an ordinary person to live a life of comfort and ease, but for Prince Edward, none of that mattered. Lying on this sickbed, barely clinging to life, he didn't even know how much longer he had to live.

At that moment, she saw her son bring in the vampire flesh and blood in the quartz test tube.
A fierce will to survive ignited in his eyes, and he said in a hoarse, low voice, "Quick, bring it to me."

"Yes, father."

The Earl of St Andrews swallowed hard, gently closed the bedroom door, and prepared to personally inject the vampire flesh into his father's body.

After all, this kind of thing is really anti-social. If people find out, their family's reputation will be ruined. Naturally, the fewer people who know, the better.

Even those BPRD traitors who brought this vampire flesh and blood, the Earl of St Andrews has arranged for his trusted men to die unexpectedly.

"Boom."

Just as the Earl of St Andrews opened the silver stopper of the quartz test tube, suddenly, the seemingly lifeless mass of vampire flesh inside appeared to come alive, leaping out of the test tube and lunging at the Earl of St Andrews' face, instantly merging into his body.

"No, ahhh—"

Suddenly, a chilling scream echoed through the well-soundproofed room.

As Prince Edward lay in his hospital bed, his eyes wide with horror, new facial features began to emerge around his eldest son's once normal face.

Beside his mouth, a nose was contracting its nostrils, and on the other side, an eye was constantly moving.

"Andrew."

This horrifying scene caused Prince Edward's eyes to tremble even more violently, and his right hand was already on the button by the bed to call for help.

But after much hesitation, he just couldn't bring himself to press the button that he could have pressed so easily.

As time went by, his son underwent a dramatic transformation in both his facial features and physique, and a figure that Prince Edward recognized vividly—one he had just seen on the news—appeared before him.

"Dio Brando."

He murmured to himself softly, the struggle in his eyes suddenly vanished, and he moved his hand away from the button.

"Haha, Gawain, you didn't expect that, did you? I, Dio, am not dead! I already divided my soul into many parts long ago!"

Dio, whose breathing had weakened considerably compared to before, covered his face and burst into wild laughter. He then turned his gaze to Prince Edward on the sickbed, a mocking smile spreading across his lips.

"Ha, as expected. What can such a frail human body possibly have left in the end? Nothing but a soul that clings to life and fears death."

"Lord Dio."

Prince Edward struggled to get out of bed, head bowed, panting as he pleaded, "I have hundreds of billions in assets that can help you hide better in this modern society. Please let me become your servant."

"Then, it's as you wish."

Upon hearing this, Dio tilted his head, raised his hand, and removed the old man's head, smearing his own blood on the severed wound.

(End of this chapter)