Selene was still staring sharply at Reuel. Her gaze pierced into him, as if saying: This man has obviously forgotten what he promised last night.
"I haven't forgotten! Of course I haven't! I made a promise to my wife last night!" Reuel blurted in a panic, almost reflexively.
Naturally, the truth was he had forgotten that he'd suggested Selene work with Lucian. But admit it? Not a chance.
Selene narrowed her eyes. She could read the lie in that sentence as clearly as daylight.
This bastard really did forget what he promised last night.
"Let's go. It's almost noon. You sleep like a pig," Selene snapped.
Her anger was sharp, but... there was something else behind her tone. She didn't understand why, but deep inside—somehow—she wanted to treat this bastard to a meal. There was no logical reason. Just... an odd impulse.
Reuel only nodded, following wherever Selene intended to go.
He didn't need further explanation. He knew he couldn't fully understand this woman—and that only made him more drawn to her.
Selene herself didn't realize she was starting to depend on the man. And somehow... she wanted to teach him a lesson. But strangely, being near Reuel made her heart feel lighter. Comfortable. Infuriatingly so.
"I haven't eaten," Reuel muttered casually, half-complaining.
"HURRY UP, YOU BASTARD!" Selene barked, clicking her tongue in irritation.
And so they set off—after a rather noisy lunch.
---
Reuel and Selene boarded the medivac with twelve Kasrkin troopers, the elite guard of the God-Emperor. They sat in an orderly formation inside the transport aircraft.
Reuel glanced at Selene seated beside him, then said:
"My beloved wife, Selene—once known as the great and cold Moon Goddess. Why have you turned into some kind of mildly sadistic psycho woman?"
He then mock-sobbed and leaned his head against the side of the aircraft. "I think God is punishing me... sob sob sob..."
Selene rolled her eyes. "Do you want to die?" she replied coldly. "If you stopped talking nonsense, you wouldn't sound so incredibly stupid."
Though her words were sharp, inside Selene felt... powerless. How was it possible—that in less than two days—she felt so familiar with this annoying man?
And worse... she hated herself for thinking about him so much.
---
"Lady Selene, we've arrived at the city outskirts. Coordinates match what you provided," the pilot called from the cockpit.
"Understood," Selene replied curtly.
The medivac landed in an open area, wide enough for evacuation or light troop movement. Reuel and Selene disembarked with their escort team. They followed a route mapped out by Red Queen.
As they walked, Selene looked up at the sky. For the first time in six centuries... sunlight touched her skin.
She raised a hand. There was no burning. No pain. Just warmth... foreign, yet soothing.
A faint smile formed on her lips.
Reuel saw it. But he said nothing. Deep down, he knew—the perfect blood within Selene had truly changed everything. Now, a vampire could walk in the sun.
They stopped at the entrance of an old sewage tunnel—an underground access point to Lucian's stronghold.
Reuel gave the signal, and the Tempestus Scions moved ahead, securing the path. They worked swiftly, efficiently, and almost silently.
This time, Reuel hadn't brought heavy troops. He opted for light units—Warhammer's version of modern SWAT teams. The karskin were elite among elites: soldiers trained to complete missions with silence, precision, and honor.
Selene and Reuel followed close behind—toward an enemy stronghold that now... just might become an ally.
---
Reuel and his team disembarked from the medivac and began sweeping through the open area as ordered. The Kasrkin unit immediately spread out to track the presence of the Lycans.
It didn't take long. The scout units had already located the position of the stronghold where the mutant creatures were gathering, and the report was quickly sent to Reuel and Selene.
They moved toward the location. Reuel raised his hand, signaling for the Kasrkin to take the lead. He and Selene followed close behind, their steps steady as they entered a dark corridor leading to the underground tunnel.
The moment they set foot inside, a foul stench hit them—an acrid mix of mossy walls, stagnant water, and rotting organic remains. For the Lycans, this was probably a familiar scent. But for Reuel? It was revolting.
Though he was no stranger to the smells of blood, gunpowder, and corpses on the battlefield, the odor in this place made his stomach churn.
His gaze landed on Selene walking ahead of him. Her expression remained cold and unfazed. No disgust, no grimace—only an eerie calm.
In his heart, Reuel admitted, "This is a true warrior."
Then his eyes fell on the weapon Selene was carrying—a pair of Imperial Stub Pistols. Reuel narrowed his eyes, voice laced with suspicion:
"Why are you carrying our pistols? I don't recall ever giving them to you."
Those weapons weren't just any firearms. Stub Pistols were standard issue for Inquisitor agents or Acolytes in infiltration operations. Lightweight, deadly, and easily disguised as civilian arms. Not something just anyone could possess.
Selene merely glanced at him, her voice calm:
"I found them in your ship's armory. You're storing way too many silver-nitrate rounds in there... Doesn't that mean you were prepared to fight vampires and werewolves?"
She slowly opened her coat, revealing the pistols underneath.
"I only had time to grab two. And these..." she gestured at them, "...felt like they were made for me."
Her thoughts briefly returned to earlier—when she requested access to the armory. When the door opened and she saw the contents—rows of plasma rifles, vortex grenades, exo-flame ammo, and an overwhelming supply of silver bullets—she'd paused. Stunned.
But her attention had zeroed in on one thing: the silver-nitrate rounds. There were far more of them than necessary. She didn't know exactly why Reuel had them—but she could guess: probably to prepare for a fight against her kind.
Reuel heard her explanation, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He held back a growl.
"What the hell were those idiots thinking? If Selene had grabbed a mini-nuke by accident, we'd all be radioactive ash right now," he cursed silently.
"I don't know what's going to happen next... But that kind of stupidity could get us all killed," Reuel muttered under his breath.
"I don't want to talk to you right now," Selene replied flatly.
Suddenly, gunfire echoed from down the tunnel. Reuel and Selene immediately moved in.
When they arrived, several Lycans lay sprawled on the ground—badly wounded but not dead. They had been disabled, not slaughtered.
"Lord Emperor, what should we do with these mutants?" asked one of the Kasrkin, radio call sign: Kasrkin-05.
"Release one. Let their leader speak to me directly," Reuel ordered sharply.
"Understood, Lord Emperor," Kasrkin-05 replied without hesitation.
One Lycan was dragged and shoved toward Reuel. The creature stumbled, its body covered in wounds and dried blood. It looked up, trembling.
Reuel stared at it, eyes sharp.
"Heh, little mutt... Go. Tell Lucian that the man who once kicked him out of Michael's hideout... is waiting."
He leaned in, voice low and lethal:
"If he doesn't show... I'll wipe out your entire pack. Got it?"
The Lycan nodded quickly, bowing his head low, not daring to meet Reuel's eyes. Then it was released.
"Let's go topside. This place smells like hell," Reuel said as he walked out of the tunnel, speaking to Selene without looking back.
Selene gave a faint smile. The place wasn't that bad, not as bad as Reuel claimed. But yeah... the stench was disgusting.
They waited above for about twenty minutes.
And finally, from the distance, a familiar figure approached—Lucian, leader of the Lycans, arriving with his pack.
Reuel stood tall, watching as the Lycan group, led personally by Lucian, approached. This place—once Michael's residence—had now become a meeting point for two factions that had once slaughtered each other without mercy.
Ten Kasrkin units stood around Reuel in perfect symmetrical formation, unmoving. Clad in dark olive-green carapace armor with sealed helmets that concealed their faces entirely, each carried heavy plasma weaponry and a Power Sword—an energy blade capable of slicing through steel. The emblem of the Caducades Sea Eagle was emblazoned on their armor collars, a proud symbol of their elite status from the planet Cadia—a world whose destruction still left behind warriors.
Reuel stepped forward and gave a small nod toward Lucian. He gestured to a simple seat that had been prepared.
"Sit. My name is Reuel," he said in a friendly tone, though his eyes remained sharp—like a hawk watching prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Lucian, standing tall despite the weight of old wounds still clinging to his body, replied coolly, "What do you want, human?"
Lucian's gaze swept briefly around them. He knew the soldiers under Reuel's command weren't ordinary troops. Their weapons looked like something even the Vampire Elders had never possessed. One of his own, struck by a silver-nitrate round, still lay writhing in burns that reached into his nerves. This wasn't just silver... it was engineered to hunt and kill beings like him.
Still, Lucian forced himself to remain composed. He knew this man—the one who had kicked him out of Michael's sanctuary just nights ago—was no ordinary human.
"Actually, I'm not the one looking for you..." Reuel gave a subtle nod toward the woman beside him. "She is."
Lucian followed his gaze.
"Death Dealer... Selene," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "You've killed many of my kind."
Selene replied calmly, her voice as cold as an endless winter night.
"And haven't you slaughtered many of mine, Lucian?"
Lucian paused for a moment.
"So, you're the one who sought me out? For what purpose?" he asked at last.
"I came to find you because you want to kill Viktor. And so do I," Selene answered. Her tone shifted—firm, charged. At the mention of that name, her voice almost growled beneath the surface.
Lucian stared at her silently, then furrowed his brow slightly.
"As I recall... you were Viktor's adopted daughter. Why turn against him now?"
Selene raised her head. Her eyes were glowing faintly red, lit from within by centuries of suppressed rage.
"Because he murdered my family. Because he lied to me—about my origin, about our history, about everything. He blamed it all on the Lycans... and I believed him. All this time."
A cold aura seemed to radiate from Selene's body, so intense it made the air feel heavier. The temperature around her seemed to drop.
Lucian watched the change in her face. He knew rage like that couldn't be faked. This was a grudge that had transcended generations and become a singular, unrelenting purpose.
Finally, he gave a thin smile—a bitter one, the kind worn by an old warrior who had already lost everything.
"Heh... very well. I agree. We can work together," Lucian said, his voice low but steady.
A dry chuckle escaped his throat. Not from joy, but from something harsher—like laughing at a wound that never healed.
On the other side, Reuel watched his expression carefully. He saw it with the clarity of a soldier—this was a man carrying too much sorrow in a body once fueled by war.
"Lucian..." Reuel thought, "This man's lost everything. Viktor didn't just kill his wife, Sonja—he also murdered their unborn child, who never even had the chance to see the world. No wonder all that remains inside him is ruin... and vengeance."
"By the way, are you really planning to attack Amilia tonight?" Reuel asked, gazing at Lucian over his wine glass.
"Yes. We'll ambush her special convoy tonight... and execute one of the Elders first," Lucian replied flatly, without emotion.
"Call off the attack." Reuel's voice was calm, but sharp. "I'll meet Amilia myself. She's not your enemy."
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Amilia won't just submit... let alone join our alliance."
"Of course I'm sure. If I fail to convince her, I'll detain her. And that won't interfere with your plan," Reuel answered, leaning back. He gave a thin smile. "Besides... I just want to see for myself if Amilia is really as beautiful as everyone claims. As for Alexander Corvinus? No problem. I'm confident he'll support me... even when it comes to Amilia."
Lucian stared at Reuel for a few seconds, as if trying to weigh his true intent. But in the end, he gave a slow nod. "Very well. I'll consider it. We won't touch her."
Behind his calm face, Lucian hid a burning grudge. As long as he could bring Viktor down, he was willing to work with anyone—even the devil himself.
"Good." Reuel lifted the wine bottle and poured two full glasses. "Let's drink. Think of it as a ritual before killing a common enemy."
Lucian accepted the glass. After one sip, he looked at Reuel in silence.
"Who are you really?" he asked suddenly.
Reuel just shrugged. "I'm just an ordinary man... with extraordinary business."
He set the glass down, then asked, "By the way, have you captured Michael?"
That name slapped through Reuel's memory—Michael, the unique protagonist from the Underworld universe. Half-Lycan, half-Vampire. Two days ago, Reuel had let him go without a second thought. Now... nothing.
"We have," Lucian replied. "Why? You want him?"
"No." Reuel turned to the window. "As long as he doesn't die, do whatever you want with him. I don't care."
Michael's blood was no longer useful after Reuel acquired the pure blood of Alexander Corvinus. In the grand scheme he was executing, Michael was just a minor piece on the board.
Lucian felt a slight relief. He still saw immense potential in Michael's blood. That genetic hybrid could become the key to a new strength for the Lycans.
Reuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small communicator. He handed it to Lucian.
"Use this. Contact me if something important comes up. The frequency is already encrypted."
Lucian accepted the device in silence. A single brief look between them was enough to seal the unofficial pact: a temporary alliance between two natural enemies.
Reuel then turned and gestured to Selene. They left the meeting site without another word, heading for the waiting medivac transport.
Once the door shut, the engine gave a low growl and the medivac lifted off—cutting through the night sky toward a Behemoth-class battlecruiser hovering in low orbit.
A few minutes later, the transport landed in the Behemoth's main hangar. Troops greeted them in rigid formation. Without a word, Selene immediately descended toward the training bay, where the medics usually gathered.
Meanwhile, Reuel walked slowly to his private quarters.
He sat on the edge of his steel bunk, removing his gloves one by one. His face looked calm, but his mind was full of questions.
What would Alexander Corvinus do next?
Would he intervene himself?
Would he end the war between vampires and Lycans?
Or... would the government—those human entities more afraid of the truth than of monsters—make the first move?
Reuel stared at the sky through the transparent cabin window.
Then he exhaled slowly.
Forget it.
I'll know when the time comes.
Now's not the time to think about it.