Reuel wandered through the quiet corridors of the battlecruiser. Whenever there was no urgent matter to deal with, he often took the time for a casual walk—whether out of habit or simply to clear his mind. Without realizing it, his steps led him to the training room.
From the half-open door, he spotted Selene. She was training at high intensity—her movements fast, precise, and lethal. Her body was flexible yet honed. Her expression was sharp, completely focused, as if the outside world didn't exist.
Reuel leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, silently observing.
But Selene wasn't the type to be caught off guard.
In a flash, she launched at him and—WHAM!—a kick landed squarely on Reuel's chest.
"I was just—!" Reuel exclaimed, startled, but reflexively crossed his arms to block the blow.
Shoved back a few steps, Reuel spun around and swiftly slipped behind Selene. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"My fierce wife, are you really trying to kill your own husband?" he whispered near her ear.
"Bastard! Let go of me right now!" Selene growled, struggling against him.
She drove her heel back with deadly aim. Their bodies were close—Reuel staggered slightly, but he didn't look fazed. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the contact far too much.
Sensing a sudden motion behind her, Reuel rolled backward, dodging a kick aimed at the most vulnerable part of a man's anatomy.
Selene spun, attacking again with a flurry of punches and kicks. Reuel dodged, hopped lightly, then once more slipped behind her—pressing his body to her hips. His hands moved quickly and, on occasion, far too freely.
"You've got no shame!" Selene snapped. Her face was flushed, whether from anger or embarrassment. "You die today!"
Furious, Selene drew her Inferno Pistol and pointed it straight down—right at the biggest threat to Reuel's ego.
Reuel's eyes widened.
"Shit!" He jumped back. "Where did you get that weapon?! Don't tell me you stole it from the armory—that's a custom piece used by the Sisters of Battle from the Adepta Sororitas!"
He exhaled in relief, then looked at Selene with mock horror. "One inch closer and I'd have lost... my precious little bird."
Selene didn't laugh.
Reuel raised both hands in full surrender.
"It was just... a misunderstanding! I didn't mean it like that, seriously."
"And you think I'll just believe that?" Selene's gaze was piercing.
Reuel shrugged, then added with a teasing tone, "Well... I only touched your butt for a second. Maybe held it for a second too. Or maybe you'd like to return the favor...?"
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Three rounds fired—one grazing his hair, two more slamming into the wall just inches from his head.
"Say one more disgusting thing, and I'll plant the next one straight in your gut!" Selene snapped, eyes blazing.
Reuel raised his hands again—higher this time.
"Okay, okay! Calm down..."
"Shut up."
"Alright... alright."
"Don't say another word."
"Yes... no more words..." Reuel mumbled.
Selene closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Her head felt heavy. This bastard... Beating him didn't work. Yelling only made him feel flirted with. He was even proud of nearly being shot!
After a moment, she opened her eyes again—but Reuel had already stepped further away, watching her from a safe distance.
"Alright then..." Reuel said quietly, cautiously. "Can I go now?"
No answer.
Taking the silence as permission, Reuel turned and slowly walked down the corridor, hands still raised like he was leaving a bank robbery.
A faint smile tugged at his lips. In his mind, Selene's image still danced—beautiful, deadly, and furious. A perfect combination.
Not bad, he thought. Maybe next time... I'll try again.
With light steps, he headed to the bathroom. Maybe to calm himself down. Or maybe just to check... if his little bird had survived the encounter.
---
Meanwhile...
A specialized train sped through the darkness, heading toward Budapest, Hungary. Its compartments were sealed tight, layered with UV-resistant shielding and anti-surveillance sensors. This train carried one of the most influential figures in vampire society: Elder Amalia.
Inside the cold, silent main carriage, a woman's voice rang out—clear and commanding.
"How much longer until we reach Budapest?" Amalia asked, her tone icy but full of authority.
"Less than an hour, Elder," answered one of the Elite Vampire Guards, clad in a black uniform marked with the Eastern Coven's insignia. His helmet remained on—an emblem of absolute discipline and readiness.
"Has Kraven been informed?" Amalia asked again, not bothering to turn her head.
"Yes, Elder. He's been notified. He'll send a retrieval team to the station," the guard replied.
Amalia gave a small nod. "Good. But tell all our people to remain on full alert... Something is disturbing my instincts tonight."
"Understood, Elder."
---
At the same time, aboard the Behemoth-class battlecruiser...
Selene stood in the armory, fully equipped. A composite tactical vest clung to her frame, twin Inferno Pistols holstered at her hips, and a silver dagger tucked into her right boot. She looked like she was ready to lead a massacre.
Across the room, however, Reuel sat leisurely at a small dining table—enjoying breakfast like there wasn't a war looming just minutes away.
"Selene, my beloved wife... relax," Reuel said as he stirred his tea with deliberate calm. "This battlecruiser is in low orbit. We'll be at the location in ten minutes. It's still early, isn't it?"
"Bastard..." Selene hissed, her eyes glowing with fury. "What if Amalia's train arrives ahead of schedule?! You think this is some kind of family picnic?!"
"Alright, alright... you're right," Reuel surrendered, setting down his spoon and rising lazily. "Let's go, then."
Without warning, he took Selene's hand and gently pulled her toward the exit. Selene froze for a moment—not because the gesture startled her, but because she realized: this bastard actually knew how to charm her, even when being infuriating.
She let it slide. For now.
---
In the main hangar of the battlecruiser, rows of Viking jets and Banshee fighters were lined up with precision. A Medivac transport was already prepped, armed to the teeth and loaded with high-grade medical gear.
Reuel and Selene boarded the lead Medivac.
As soon as the doors closed and the crew began pre-launch procedures, Reuel turned to her.
"Selene, you're in command this time," he said, handing her a specialized headset linked to the main command channel.
Selene glanced at him, uncertain. "I'm leading?"
"Yes," Reuel nodded slightly. "You've been fighting for centuries—leading a team won't be an issue for you. You know the terrain, you know the tactics, and more importantly, you know when to kill... and when not to. Our target is Amalia. Objective: capture alive."
He laid out the orders swiftly, yet concisely.
"All Kasrkin rounds have been modified. The tranquilizer dosage is enough to knock out an elder vampire for 48 hours—non-lethal."
Internally, Reuel added: I'm way too lazy to lead today. My little bird almost died just now—I need time for reflection... and maybe a cold shower. Let Selene shine this time. Consider it a reward for not shooting me earlier.
After a brief pause, Selene gave a calm nod and took the headset.
"...Understood."
---
Night cloaked Budapest.
A fine drizzle fell gently, sliding down the glass roof of the empty, desolate station, deepening the oppressive stillness. Dim lighting painted everything in cold, somber hues.
Screee... screee... screee...
An elegantly designed train slid slowly into the platform. Its wet wheels screeched softly as it came to a halt.
Several figures in black stepped out first—elite vampire guards, fully armed, instantly forming a formation and sweeping the area with sharp, vigilant eyes.
From the main carriage, the door slid open slowly. A woman stepped out.
She wore a long white gown that clung tightly to her lithe figure, each curve sharp and striking. Every movement radiated authority. Her face—beautiful, almost unreal. And her eyes—bright, cold, piercing—scanned the silent station. Her presence was regal, undeniable, like that of ancient nobility.
Amalia, Vampire Elder.
"Why is no one here to receive us?" she asked coolly, her voice calm but laced with command.
"Elder, we're not sure. We contacted Kraven during the trip. He promised to send a team to receive you," answered Vampire Elite Guard 02, his voice tinged with tension.
"Be careful, I—" Guard 03 never finished his sentence.
One of the vampire guards suddenly collapsed—without a sound, without any visible wound.
Amalia whirled around instantly.
"Enemy presence. Sniper! Everyone, on guard!"
But the warning came too late. One by one, her guards dropped—silent, swift, with no chance to retaliate. No gunshots, no sign of the enemy. Only death, haunting them one by one in the quiet.
Within seconds, more than ten of her guards lay lifeless. Panic began to set in.
Above them, the low hum of heavy engines filled the air. A Medivac transport hovered slowly overhead, followed by the sleek silhouettes of Banshee aircraft and Viking jet fighters circling the area.
Then, the fog of night was broken by the sound of synchronized footsteps. Cadia's elite Kasrkin troops emerged from every direction—fully equipped, weapons ready, their movements precise and disciplined, their formation flawless.
Amalia realized—this was no ordinary ambush.
This was a full-scale military operation.
In the midst of the encirclement, Selene appeared, leading three Kasrkin squads, walking tall with unwavering confidence.
The remaining vampire guards raised their weapons, but none of the Kasrkin moved recklessly. Tension hung thick—almost tangible.
Amalia's eyes locked with Selene's.
"Selene... you rebel?" Amalia's voice was cold, laced with menace. "You dare strike your Elder?"
Selene merely offered a calm smile.
"Elder Amalia, I'm simply here to extend an invitation… as an honored guest."
She gestured gracefully, like a noble host welcoming someone to an aristocratic gathering.
Amalia didn't budge. "And if I refuse?"
The remaining guards raised their weapons, waiting for the Elder's command.
Selene exhaled softly. "What a pity…"
She gave a subtle signal.
All at once, the entire Kasrkin force raised their rifles. Above them, a Thunderhawk Gunship began its descent, shaking the ground as it landed. From within, additional Astra Militarum troops emerged in tight tactical formation.
Amalia took it all in with silent calculation.
One thing was clear: their formation was flawless, their gear far beyond anything vampire technology could muster. Aircraft she had never seen before. Tactics unfamiliar—but undeniably lethal.
These were not vampire forces.
Nor mere humans.
This was power from another world.
If she gave the order to fight, there would only be one outcome:
A massacre.
---
Amalia uttered a few words in the ancient vampire tongue—soft, yet laced with power. The syllables were sharp and echoed strangely in human ears, understood only by those of pureblood lineage.
Moments later, her remaining followers silently bowed. Without a single word, they slowly dropped their weapons to the ground, as if Amalia's command was an undeniable decree.
Selene watched without overreacting. She merely gave a subtle nod.
"Cuff them," she said calmly but firmly.
The Cadia Kasrkin forces moved swiftly. From their belts, they drew special restraints—crafted from a metal alloy laced with energy currents, designed specifically to suppress non-human entities. These cuffs didn't merely restrain movement; they suppressed supernatural power.
Even the fallen vampires weren't spared. One by one, they were secured. No one was harmed. No executions. Just complete control.
Amalia observed the process in silence. But her eyes betrayed a sharp awareness—she was taking note of every detail. Seeing that her subordinates weren't being slaughtered, only neutralized, she understood: this wasn't brutality. It was a tactical operation.
Soon after, several Medivac units touched down smoothly on the platform. The light from beneath the aircraft illuminated Amalia's face, casting sharp shadows across her aristocratic features.
Selene turned to her and nodded, signaling for her to board. Without resistance, Amalia stepped up the ramp with grace. But just before she entered fully, she stopped.
In the distance, Reuel stood leaning casually against a steel pillar, hands in his pockets, his gaze never once leaving Amalia.
He watched her, unashamedly admiring her. In his mind, he murmured:
> "Exquisite… far more elegant and striking than the film version I saw in my old life…"
Suddenly, as if reading his thoughts, Amalia turned sharply.
Her gaze pierced straight into Reuel's—sharp, assessing, and cold as a silver dagger.
"It is most improper to stare at a lady like that, sir," she said, in a voice steeped in highborn aristocracy—soft, yet slicing the air like a sword.
Reuel was caught off guard. He hadn't expected to be busted.
Selene, standing not far from Amalia, raised a brow sharply. Her expression turned sour.
"Bastard! What the hell are you staring at?!" she snapped, the tone carrying—at least to the sensitive ear—a hint of jealousy.
She knew exactly how Reuel's eyes changed when he looked at a beautiful woman. And this time, it was far too obvious to ignore.
Reuel chuckled awkwardly and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I was just… just looking. Maybe… my lovely wife could introduce me to someone this stunning?" he quipped, glancing at Selene.
"You've got no fucking chance, bastard," Selene hissed.
Her words were harsh, but there was the faintest curl at the corner of her lips—somewhere between annoyed, amused, and perhaps… a little possessive.
Reuel only shrugged, saying nothing more.
Soon, the Medivac engines growled softly, and the aircraft lifted off, leaving behind the now-empty station shrouded in mist. Their destination: the Gorgon-class battlecruiser, orbiting above Earth's atmosphere—a flying fortress that served as the central stronghold of Reuel and Selene's alliance.
Inside the Medivac cabin, tension still lingered, but control rested entirely in Selene's hands. And the vampire Elder… though captured, didn't look defeated.
Amalia remained standing—like a queen.
---
Inside the cabin, silence hung thick in the air. Amalia sat without a word, her eyes observing every detail of the interior. Her gaze swept slowly over the advanced equipment and the fully armed guards. Outside, through the aircraft window, she saw the escorting fighter jets—Banshees and Vikings—flying in perfect formation above.
"These aircraft... they're highly advanced," Amalia murmured softly. "Which nation produced them?"
No one answered. Reuel simply gave a faint smile without saying a word. Selene also remained silent, her expression unreadable. Amalia turned her gaze to Reuel, waiting for an explanation.
But Reuel just raised a finger to his lips, signaling "shhh." Then, with a mischievous look, he glanced over at Selene.
Seeing the childish gesture, Selene nearly laughed, but quickly held herself back.
"If you want to talk, then talk. Stop staring at me like that!" Selene snapped, voice raised.
"Ahem… I'm afraid you'll misunderstand," Reuel replied lightly.
"You're the one who's wrong, bastard," Selene shot back sharply.
"In that case… I better shut up," Reuel said calmly. He knew Selene wasn't truly angry—it was just part of their little game.
Amalia watched the exchange in silence. She could feel that there was something unspoken between the two of them. Reuel liked Selene. And Selene… seemed to feel the same. But for some reason, both of them were holding back.
Amalia understood. This army—its power and discipline—should logically be under the command of the man beside her: Reuel.
What are they waiting for? Amalia thought.
I just don't know what's holding them back.
---
Not long after, the Medivac arrived at its destination—a massive Dominion warship. As they entered the main hangar, Amalia's eyes widened slightly.
She hadn't expected to be aboard something this massive… in outer space.
Various fighter jets of unfamiliar design were neatly parked. Metal walls, automated platforms, and holographic displays showed unknown data. The foreign technology dominated the entire space.
Elite soldiers stood tall in perfect formation—their posture firm, armor gleaming, and eyes sharp. Amalia admitted to herself—they looked far more disciplined than her own followers.
The three of them walked forward without much conversation, crossing the hangar until they reached a private room.
Amalia sat first on the provided sofa. Her posture was composed, one leg crossed elegantly. She stared directly at Reuel and Selene.
"Very well," she said sharply. "Now tell me… what exactly do you plan to do with me?"
Selene didn't respond immediately. She looked at Amalia in silence, then finally asked another question.
"Elder Amalia… I want to know," she said. "Is it true… that Victor killed my family?"
Selene's gaze was intense. But behind it, there was still a flicker of hope that everything she had heard so far was just a lie. That the real truth—had yet to be revealed.
Amalia didn't answer right away. She looked at Selene for a long moment, in a heavy silence, before finally speaking in a soft but firm voice:
"It seems… you already know the answer."
She exhaled quietly, then looked Selene directly in the eyes.
"Yes. Your family was killed by Victor."
Selene's body trembled. Those words confirmed everything—what Reuel had once told her was now undeniably true. Her family had indeed been slaughtered by Victor. The reality hit her like a crashing wave—emotion erupting in her chest, fury and grief blending into one.
Reuel, who stood nearby, quickly stepped forward. He gently embraced Selene, trying to calm the storm inside her. His voice was steady, almost a whisper.
"Breathe… I'll avenge them for you."
But Selene looked him straight in the eyes. Though still in his arms, her gaze burned with unwavering resolve.
"No. I'll avenge my family myself. I'll be the one to kill Victor."
Reuel fell silent for a moment, looking into that stubborn face—the face he had always admired. At last, he gave a slow nod, accepting Selene's decision.
"All right… you'll be the one to do it."
They were still in each other's arms when Amalia's voice cut through the silence.
"Any more questions?" she said with a cynical tone. "Or do you two plan to keep cuddling in front of me like you're tossing leftover bones to a starving dog?"
Amalia's gaze was sharp. Her voice was bitter and annoyed—she felt like a stranger in the middle of an intimacy that wasn't hers.
"Amalia, you should be grateful," Reuel replied calmly, though with a note of warning in his voice. "Without us, you might already be dead."
Amalia met his gaze, her face showing not a hint of gratitude.
"And you think I'd trust a kidnapper like you?" she sneered.
Reuel turned to Selene, raising an eyebrow as he exhaled lazily.
"Oh, Selene… please explain it to this woman. She's a real pain. I need some fresh air. I'm going out for a smoke."
Without waiting for a response, Reuel turned and left the room.
---
After Reuel's departure, Selene sat across from Amalia and began explaining everything—Kraven's betrayal, his alliance with Lucian, and their plan to overthrow Victor from the Elders' throne. But she deliberately kept one crucial thing hidden: the secret agreement between Reuel and Alexander Corvinus.
Amalia listened without interrupting, her expression serious and contemplative. When Kraven's name came up, her gaze shifted. The fact that he was still alive—and working with Lucian, the werewolf long believed to be dead—clearly shook her.
Especially when she learned that Kraven himself had asked Lucian to kill her for his own ambition.
She fell silent, recalling her time in the United States. Who would've thought all of this would unfold so quickly...
"It's hard to believe this story," Amalia murmured at last. "Unless you can show me proof. You said Lucian's still alive? Then bring him here. I want to hear it straight from his mouth."
"I'll try to reach him," Selene replied. "But I'm not sure he'll come."
---
Meanwhile, in an old, long-abandoned factory...
Kraven paced anxiously, surrounded by a group of armed vampires. His eyes kept darting toward the factory's entrance, waiting for word from his ally.
He desperately hoped Lucian would bring news of Elder Amalia's death—so he could move forward with his plans without interference.
Finally, a large opening in the underground sewer grates slid open. Several Lycans emerged one by one, followed by Lucian, who stepped out with a calm stride and commanding presence.
The vampires immediately took a defensive stance, but Kraven raised a hand to hold them back. His eyes were fixed solely on Lucian.
"Lucian… how have you been?" Kraven asked, trying to sound casual. But his voice carried a nervous edge he couldn't hide.
"Emilia is dead. I hope you haven't forgotten your promise," Lucian replied flatly.
He lied without hesitation. His forces had already swept through the police station, but found no sign of Amalia. He assumed Reuel had taken her. But for now, he still needed Kraven... and a lie was the fastest way forward.
Kraven smiled with satisfaction. He clapped his hands lightly, clearly relieved.
"Good… very good. Then your task is complete. As promised…"
He stepped forward with false confidence.
"One Elder down. Two still in slumber. Once they're eliminated, I will rule the vampires."
After that brief exchange, the two parties went their separate ways.
---
The Lycans moved swiftly, leaving the factory and heading toward their hidden base—deep beneath the ruins of the city.
Raze, the large-bodied werewolf loyal to Lucian, walked beside his leader with a puzzled look.
"Boss… why didn't you tell Kraven that Amalia is still alive?" he asked in a low voice.
Lucian turned to him, his gaze sharp yet calm.
"Raze, Kraven can't be trusted," he answered plainly. "He's a petty schemer. He'll betray us the moment it benefits him."
Lucian looked ahead, his eyes narrowing as if piercing through the darkness of the underground tunnels.
"If he knows Amalia is still alive, he'll start making new plans immediately. But Reuel… he's different. He's a man of principle. Strong, and he holds no ill will toward us."
Lucian stopped walking and looked Raze squarely in the eye.
"As long as we don't provoke him… he won't attack us. But if we cross his line..."
Lucian gripped Raze's shoulder.
"I want you to make sure—tell everyone. No one provokes Reuel. If he moves… not a single one of us will survive."
Raze nodded with full understanding. He knew Lucian's words weren't fear—they were a warning. For Lycans, survival wasn't just about strength—it was about knowing which enemy should never be touched.
Lucian let out a deep breath.
"I won't let the Lycans become Kraven's slaves. But I also won't let them die in vain because of arrogance."