Watching Selene walk away toward the battlecruiser hangar, Reuel stood in silence. Not a single word escaped his lips.
He knew exactly what was raging in that woman's heart—the burning desire to avenge her family with her own hands.
Moments later, soft footsteps echoed nearby. Amalia emerged from behind a pillar, graceful as a noble ghost from a forgotten age. The slit in her sheer white gown revealed her long legs with every step, as if dancing with the air itself.
In one hand, a glass of red wine swayed gently with the rhythm of her body. She sat on the sofa with the poise of a medieval European aristocrat, crossing her legs with the elegance honed over centuries.
"Do you love that woman?" she asked softly, yet with unmistakable curiosity.
Reuel leaned back against the sofa, as if unfazed by the question. "Don't worry. She's been fighting for centuries as a Death Dealer. She'll be just fine."
He gave a slight smile, his tone turning light. "Right now they're hunting Viktor... and I'm sitting here with a beautiful woman. Do I look like a man who wastes golden opportunities like this?"
He sounded calm—relaxed, even. Not a trace of worry on his face. Especially after learning that Selene had drunk the pure blood of Alexander Corvinus—she was far stronger now than she had ever been. With that power, and Lucian at her side, Viktor shouldn't be much of a threat. Even if Selene failed to kill him, Viktor would hardly be able to bring her down easily.
"Selene was right… you really are a shameless bastard," Amalia scoffed, tugging her gown slightly—as if half-heartedly trying to cover her thighs from the man in front of her.
"I just like to remind you how shameless I can be... especially when I'm near a woman as stunning as you," Reuel replied with a mischievous grin, utterly unapologetic.
Amalia's eyes narrowed. Her voice rose in pitch. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound absolutely lecherous! That look you're giving me… like a starving beast! Like you want to devour me with your eyes!"
Reuel didn't flinch. In fact, he looked even more relaxed. His gaze was direct—filled with desire and the shameless charm of a man fully aware of his own appeal.
"Well, you're the one who chose to wear that dress. Low cut, showing off almost everything. Isn't that... kind of an open invitation to be teased?" he replied bluntly.
He eyed her up and down. The white gown, with its plunging neckline, indeed revealed much of her chest. She looked like a noblewoman from the days of Vlad Tepes—beautiful, seductive, and deadly.
"Others may admire me," Amalia said coldly, "but you—you look at me with pure lust."
Reuel chuckled softly. "Little girl, can't we talk like adults... without bickering like schoolchildren?"
Amalia scoffed, unimpressed. "Little girl?! Please. Your grandparents probably weren't even born when I started hunting werewolves and vampires. And you still dare to call me that?"
Reuel raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Oh, right, I forgot... you're a Strigoi. But you're mistaken about one thing, darling—appearances can be deceiving."
Amalia shook her head slowly, half-annoyed. "Hmph… And by the way, the correct term is Vámpír—not Strigoi."
Her tone turned cold and cutting.
"Strigoi? Are you seriously comparing us to Romanian folklore trash? Primitive undead crawling out of graves to suck their relatives' blood? That's not elegance. We are living perfection. Not rotting corpses driven by feral instinct."
Her voice thinned, almost like a hiss of contempt.
"Aren't they all the same?" Reuel replied flatly, yet deliberately provocative.
Amalia was beginning to understand the frustration Selene must've felt dealing with Reuel—this insufferable man who could charm anyone with just one infuriating smile.
"Fine, fine… Vámpír, right?" Reuel half-heartedly conceded. "Sounds lovely. And you'll learn more about it—if you're willing to be my woman."
Amalia's eyes widened, her face flushed with anger. "You… You unbelievable pervert! You already have Selene, and now you're trying to seduce me too?! You—you bastard! The most shameless man to ever live!"
For a moment, silence filled the room.
And in that moment, Amalia fully grasped just how maddening Reuel's charm could be—and why Selene so often wanted to punch that handsome face of his.
---
In the stifling, dusty underground, Selene walked with determined steps, flanked by ten elite Cadia Kasrkin soldiers—a special unit dispatched directly by the Master of Mankind to personally escort her. Silently, they infiltrated the Lycan stronghold with heightened awareness, each carrying heavy sealed metal crates filled with American-grade weaponry and advanced ammunition.
Upon reaching the main hall of the Lycan lair, Lucian greeted them, surrounded by his trusted guards.
"Thank you, Selene… Thank you so much for these weapons," said Lucian, eyes widening as he saw the contents of the crates: modern rifles loaded with next-generation silver-nitrate rounds. Designed to pierce through both vampire and Lycan flesh—perfect weapons for a merciless night war.
"We're allies now, Lucian. We have the same enemy," Selene replied, her tone cold and firm.
Lucian nodded, then immediately ordered his subordinates to distribute the weapons to every Lycan in the lair.
---
Night fell upon the sky. From the vampire mansion, hundreds of elite troops began moving in perfect formation. They were fully armed: automatic rifles, silver blades, and close-range weapons specifically designed for anti-Lycan combat.
At their center stood Viktor—proud, composed, but burning with vengeance. He led the Death Dealers himself, like a god of war walking among his followers.
A young Lycan on sentry duty came running down the corridor, breathless, and reported to Lucian.
"Boss Lucian, they're coming! The vampires… hundreds of them!"
"Only hundreds?" Lucian raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Viktor is truly blinded by arrogance. He thinks this is just another hunt—like back when I faked my death. Fool. Too confident."
His gaze sharpened.
"Alert all units. The trap begins now."
The footsteps of vampire troops echoed down the damp, narrow stone corridors as they descended into the underground system. They didn't know—the darkness they were walking into didn't belong to them.
The first explosion shook the tunnels.
In an instant, the Lycans lunged from the shadows, exploiting every crevice and hidden path they had prepared for months. Gunfire and grenade blasts roared, turning the tunnel into a blood-soaked hell.
A brutal, merciless battle erupted.
The howls of Lycans clashed with the screams of dying vampires. Even vampires trained for decades struggled—they were fighting on unfamiliar ground, against enemies who knew every inch like the back of their hand.
Vampire bodies began to fall. Their blood ran and mixed with the filthy water in the sewers.
But the tide began to shift when the Death Dealers finally entered the fray. Their speed and strength countered the Lycans' guerrilla tactics. In no time, the battlefield tipped. They began pushing the Lycans back, shrinking their maneuvering space.
Viktor walked calmly through the chaos, untouched by bullets or screams. His eyes were fixed on one place: the heart of the Lycan defenses.
"Lucian. Selene," he muttered to himself. "Tonight, everything ends by my own hands."
---
In the deepest chamber of the Lycan lair, Lucian stood firm in the shadows, Selene by his side with her twin pistols already drawn. They didn't speak. They didn't fidget. They simply waited.
Viktor finally arrived, striding forward with Death Dealers at his back—like an inevitable shadow of death.
Viktor's eyes locked onto the two figures standing in the dark, surrounded by the scent of gunpowder, dust, and blood.
Lucian and Selene.
They didn't run. They didn't flinch.
They stood their ground and faced him.
"You two…" Viktor's voice was deep, filled with restrained fury. "A treacherous bitch and a filthy mongrel. Tonight, you both die."
Lucian stepped forward, his jaw clenched.
"Viktor... Today I take vengeance for Sonja..." he said, voice shaking with fury and the pain of an old wound that never healed. "...and for my child, who never even had a chance to see the world."
Viktor sneered—not a laugh, but a cold, contemptuous grin.
"Silence."
"I executed my own daughter because she tainted our noble blood… with a creature like you!"
Selene stood at Lucian's side. Slowly, she raised her face, her gaze sharp as a freshly honed blade. In her eyes burned a long-buried rage—the fury of a woman who had lost everything.
"Viktor... you will pay in blood for every life of my family you stole!" she shouted.
With one smooth, deadly motion, Selene drew her twin pistols.
Bang! Bang!
Silver bullets flashed, eager to taste noble blood.
But Viktor merely chuckled.
"Haha... Kill them," he ordered coldly, gesturing subtly with one finger.
The Death Dealers readied themselves. Their rifles rose, aimed directly at Selene and Lucian. Death seemed only seconds away.
VRAK-VRAK-VRAK!!
Suddenly, a blinding flash of light and a wave of energy burst from a massive pool at the side of the room.
DUG-DUG-DUG-DUG!!
Elite human troops—the Kasrkin of the Imperium of Man—emerged from the shadows. Their dark uniforms gleamed with the reflection of blue plasma light from the advanced weapons they raised in unison. In a silence that shattered into a storm, they opened fire without hesitation.
Every shot was fate.
One by one, the Death Dealers fell. One didn't even have time to lift his weapon before his chest was obliterated by a plasma blast that instantly vaporized his heart. His body flew backward, burning in a flare of scorching energy.
Chaos erupted.
Selene didn't waste the moment. She fired her twin pistols at Viktor, silver bullets slicing through the air with pinpoint precision. Meanwhile, Lucian let out a roar—bones cracking as his form shifted. Within seconds, a true Lycan stood where a man once was.
A howl of vengeance echoed as he lunged at Viktor.
And the battle ignited.
Lucian attacked Viktor with savage force. Claws and fangs met the ancient noble's blade—centuries of hatred clashing in one brutal moment. It was primal fury against eternal arrogance.
Selene unleashed another burst of fire.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
But Viktor was too fast. The bullets only grazed him. With a swift slash, he struck Lucian. His sword landed blow after blow, splattering black Lycan blood across the stone walls. Lucian collapsed—but he didn't fall.
Seeing Selene as the greater threat, Viktor charged her. Red eyes flared, sword raised high.
But Selene was ready.
With vampire agility and military precision, she rolled aside and launched into a flurry of kicks.
DUK! DUK! DUK! DUK! DUK! DUK!
The blows slammed into Viktor's chest, knocking him backward.
Lucian rose, his body soaked in blood. He lunged, swiping at Viktor's sword and knocking it from his grip. The weapon clanged against the wall, useless.
Viktor retaliated with a crushing punch. Lucian flew into a pillar, but stayed on his feet.
Seizing the opening, Selene dashed forward and grabbed Viktor's sword.
With one swift motion—
SHHKT!
—she slashed at Viktor's arm before he could react.
"ARGHHH!!"
His right arm was severed. Blood spurted wildly from the stump. Before he could even process the pain, Lucian leapt again and bit down on Viktor's left arm.
GRAAHHH!!
KRAKK!!
Bone shattered, flesh ripped. Viktor's left arm was torn off completely.
"Bastards... FUCK YOU ALL!!" Viktor screamed, collapsing in a pool of his own blood.
Both arms gone. His breath ragged. His gaze blank, fixed on the stone ceiling that offered no salvation.
But even at death's edge, his hatred still burned. He groaned, grinding his teeth, refusing to accept the fate that had already claimed him.
Selene stepped forward. The bloodied sword in her hand as cold as her eyes.
Lucian appeared from the other side, holding Viktor's severed arms like bloody trophies.
They stood over the body of the creature they had hated and fought for so long—the figure now rendered powerless.
"Viktor... go. Apologize to Sonja... and to your grandchild who never saw this world," Lucian whispered, his voice echoing with rage and sorrow.
He lifted his foot and kicked Viktor's body.
"Ahh... aahh…"
A faint moan escaped Viktor. Half pain. Half humiliation.
Selene continued to stare at him coldly.
"Lucian... end it," she said flatly.
She tossed the sword to him.
Lucian caught it without a word.
"You sure you don't want to finish it yourself?" he asked quietly.
"I don't care anymore. But you... you deserve to end this."
Lucian nodded slowly.
"Thank you, Selene. I owe you. And if one day you call for me... I will come."
He raised the sword high.
"Goodbye, Viktor."
SHHHKKKTTT!
With one clean, decisive strike, Viktor's head separated from his body. It rolled slowly before coming to a stop, staring at the ceiling. Eyes open—yet empty.
That night, the blood war reached its climax.
And for the first time in centuries... justice favored the broken.
The remaining Death Dealers still standing—Viktor's last loyalists—tried to hold their ground. But they never had a chance.
From every corner and shadow, elite Kasrkin units emerged one by one. Plasma fire blazed, followed by cleansing flame that incinerated vampire bodies without mercy. Within minutes, the last remnants of vampire forces in the Lycan stronghold were wiped from existence.
A bitter victory... but an absolute one.
Selene stepped slowly toward Viktor's lifeless body. Blood still pooled around it. The severed head stared blankly at the stone ceiling—soulless, powerless.
"Lucian... open the chest Viktor kept. Reuel said there was something inside," Selene said, her voice flat but weighted.
She suddenly remembered Reuel's words before everything began—a cryptic message that now felt like the final piece of a puzzle.
Lucian didn't ask. He simply looked down at Viktor's corpse, then raised his sword—the same sword that had ended the life of his eternal enemy. Without hesitation, he slashed into Viktor's chest.
Blood and shards of bone burst forth, staining the stone floor. From the shattered cavity, Lucian pulled out a small metallic object: an old pendant in the shape of a key, dark silver, ancient-looking... clearly not an ordinary item.
Lucian stared at it for a moment. There was a pressure in his chest—some primal instinct that told him the object was not his to keep.
He handed it to Selene.
"I don't know what this is... but it doesn't feel like it's meant for me," he said simply.
Selene took the pendant and held it gently. Something strange stirred—the cold touch of the metal awakened old memories she hadn't even known still lingered. An echo from the past... a legacy that may have been hers all along.
She pocketed it silently. No words, just a hardening of her gaze.
Moments later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from a dark hallway. Raze appeared, his body soaked in blood but eyes still sharp. He nodded at Lucian.
The battle was over.
The vampires were annihilated. The Lycans had lost much... but tonight, they had won.
"Lucian," Selene said, her eyes fixed on the ruined spires above them, "I'll be back. But Reuel said... the Hungarian government is starting to notice. Lycans. Vampires. All of us. So be careful."
Her tone was cold but serious—a warning, not advice.
Lucian opened his mouth to reply, but Selene had already turned and walked away, joining the Kasrkin waiting at the far end of the corridor. They left the place like shadows—silent, untouched, not a drop of blood on their uniforms.
Lucian stood in silence for a moment, absorbing the weight of Selene's warning.
Then he turned sharply to Raze.
"Raze, clean this place up. Get all survivors to the fallback den. We move before too many start sniffing out the blood spilled tonight," he ordered firmly.
Raze nodded without a word, then signaled the remaining Lycans.
As the night rolled on, the shadows shifted—marking the end of one era... and the beginning of another.