Luxury Villa, Budapest — Hungary
In a luxurious villa nestled in one of Budapest's elite neighborhoods, a convoy of military vehicles moved slowly through the gated residential area—the location of an official residence belonging to Hungary's Minister of Defense.
From the lead vehicle, an older man in a military uniform stepped out first. On his shoulder gleamed the insignia of a Grand General. Several high-ranking officers followed: a Lieutenant General, a Major General, and a Brigadier General—each tense, but maintaining strict composure behind their superior.
The man's name was Ferenc Veér, one of the most influential military figures in the Republic of Hungary.
The group entered the villa. A guard immediately greeted them and led them to the main meeting room.
"General, the Minister of Defense is waiting inside. Please go in."
"Thank you. Good work."
General Ferenc Veér stepped into the main room, his officers trailing close behind.
As soon as he entered, his voice thundered through the space—harsh and unyielding:
"Defense Minister János Szabó, can you explain how two thousand of my soldiers were wiped out just like that?!"
His tone was cold. His stare sharp—radiating restrained fury, profound disappointment, and undeniable grief.
Across from him, János Szabó, the current Minister of Defense, remained composed. He nodded slightly, then replied in a voice so calm it almost sounded like a quiet smile:
"General Ferenc Veér, please don't rush to anger. There's something you need to see first. After that, you'll understand everything."
With deliberate calm, János slid a laptop toward the general. Ferenc accepted it stiffly, suspicion etched across his face. As the screen lit up, his eyes locked on the footage.
Surveillance recordings played—capturing the final moments of their unit as they were slaughtered by bloodthirsty creatures.
Vampires.
General Veér watched as his men fell one by one, with barely any resistance. Their bodies were torn apart viciously.
The video then cut to secret lab footage—vampires being used as test subjects. Blood samples. Injections. Stunning regenerative reactions.
Several minutes later, Ferenc slowly closed the laptop. His face was visibly paler.
"Is it true…?" he whispered in disbelief. "This monster's blood… can cure disease?"
"It is," János nodded, arms crossed. "You saw it yourself. Unfortunately, the one we captured was just a low-class specimen. That's why I deployed your unit to find what the reports call a Vampire Elder—whose blood is said to delay death itself."
General Veér stared at János for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.
"János... you realize, right? Anyone who drinks their blood becomes a monster just like them."
"I know," János replied lightly. "That's why we have to capture the Elder alive. We need to study the blood. If the reports are true, this isn't just a medical breakthrough. It's... immortality."
He gave a faint, crooked smile.
"We're not young anymore, General. Don't you want to live forever?"
The words hung heavy in the air. Ferenc fell silent, staring at the still-lit screen.
The final clip showed a captured low-class vampire—speaking about the Elders who had lived for thousands of years.
No one truly wanted to die.
Especially not those who had tasted and held great power.
At last, General Veér let out a deep breath.
"Fine. But these creatures are too dangerous. Why don't we just launch missiles and flatten their nest?"
"We can't," János shook his head. "That would destroy everything—including the Elder we need to capture alive."
"Then how do we kill these monsters?" Veér asked.
"Heavy weapons can't be deployed near the capital, and missiles are out of the question. And these things... they're immune to our rifles," János continued in a lower voice.
"With what, then?" Ferenc pressed.
"Silver bullets," János answered firmly. "We need mass production. But we can't do it alone. We'll need approval from President Ferenc Mádl and Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. They're not young either. I'm sure they'll understand... the value of immortality."
General Veér narrowed his eyes, then nodded.
"Alright. I'll prepare the troops. If we can't use missiles, we still have plenty of small-caliber heavy weapons. You handle the political side."
"The president, the ministers, and all the… obstacles will be your responsibility."
"Leave it to me," János replied with certainty.
General Ferenc Veér exited the villa with a firm stride. Meanwhile, János Szabó shut the laptop, boarded his armored car, and headed straight for President Ferenc Mádl's palace.
A grand plan was beginning to take shape—
And the world would never be the same again.
---
Vampire Manor – Nightfall
The scent of blood and victory still lingered thick in the air. The vampires roared, toasted, and danced in euphoria. They had just won a brutal battle against humans—so swift, blood still dripped onto the banquet hall floor. But amid the celebration, Kraven stood frozen.
His gaze pierced the night, eyes locked on the dark sky beyond the tall open window. He knew this victory was only temporary. Tonight, the humans had come with conventional weapons. But next time?
"They'll come with heavy artillery… missiles… even airstrikes," he thought grimly. "And this old manor will become our grave."
Kraven clenched his fists. He couldn't afford to wait any longer. Marcus—still asleep in the crypt below—was no longer the priority.
Waking Marcus would mean awakening madness. If Marcus learned the other Elders were dead, he would lose control—possibly even take his own life. Then he would assume command of the remaining vampires.
And Kraven couldn't allow that. The throne he was so close to grasping would vanish in an instant.
With deliberate steps, he climbed the small platform at the far end of the hall and raised one hand high.
"Everyone, silence!" Kraven shouted.
Laughter and revelry halted at once. All eyes turned toward him, the mood shifting sharply to tension.
"We must leave this place immediately!" he declared. "Next time, the Hungarian government will come with planes, missiles, and a much larger force. If we stay here—this house will become our tomb!"
A vampire with the number 063 tattooed on his neck raised his hand.
"Then, sir… where do we go?"
"We move to the old castle in the northern mountains," Kraven answered without hesitation. "It's remote, and few know of it. We'll hide there for the time being. It will be safe—for now."
Kraven's eyes drifted briefly toward the shadowed corridor leading to the crypt.
> "And… what about Elder Marcus?" another vampire asked hesitantly. "Are we going to wake him? To fight the humans?"
Kraven's face hardened. He shook his head slowly.
"No. Marcus is still asleep, and he will remain so. He's safe. None of you are to go near him. I'll handle him later. Right now, survival comes first."
He swept his gaze across the hall, locking eyes with each vampire. His voice rose, firm and commanding:
"Scatter. Take separate routes. We'll meet at the castle. Don't let anyone follow you—human or traitor."
"Yes, sir!" they answered in unison.
In tense silence, one by one they left the old manor, slipping into the night's shadows. They vanished without a trace, leaving behind blood, memories, and a dark history sealed within the ancient stone walls.
Meanwhile, far below in the cold, silent depths of the crypt, Marcus still slumbered in his black-carved coffin.
Unaware that the world around him was preparing to descend into an age of ruin.
---
Northern Mountains — New Lycan Hideout, Outskirts of Budapest
The Lycans' temporary stronghold was tightly concealed within the dense forest of the northern mountains. Cold air and the earthy scent of wet soil clung to the place, but an ominous tension had thickened ever since the shocking news arrived—the Hungarian government had launched an assault on the vampires' manor.
A Lycan came sprinting through the trees, breath ragged, and rushed straight toward Lucian.
"Boss, bad news. The government's attacking the vampires' manor—Kraven's base. Direct assault. Total chaos."
His voice was nervous. He spoke quickly, as if afraid he wouldn't finish before time ran out.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. His expression turned grim.
"So they actually went through with it," he muttered. "Good thing Selene warned us. Otherwise, they might already be knocking on our door."
Another Lycan spoke up, tension lacing his voice.
"Leader, what's our next move?"
"We stay hidden here," Lucian said firmly. "Keep an eye on their movements. If the government manages to wipe out the vampires, we'll abandon this place and find a new location."
Lucian knew they weren't in any position to wage war against humans—especially not ones with heavy weaponry. Fighting vampires was one thing, but facing a professional military? That would be a one-sided slaughter.
"Understood… but our supplies are limited. We can't hold out here for long, Leader," said Raze, worried.
Lucian stared off into the distance, then gave a slow nod.
"I'll contact Selene. Let's see if she can help us hold out until the time is right."
He fell silent. His face was stiff, his mind calculating. In a situation like this, there was only one name he could still count on: Selene. She understood this world—she knew how to survive when everyone wanted you dead.
Raze frowned, confused.
"But… why not ask Reuel for help? He must have the resources. Wouldn't it be faster to go straight to him?"
Lucian slowly turned, looking at Raze as if explaining something elementary to a child.
"Idiot," he said flatly. "Reuel is not our ally."
His gaze was cold. His voice calm but laced with warning.
"He despises mutated beings like us. The only reason he hasn't hunted us to extinction is because of Selene. But Selene… she's different. She might be a vampire, but she understands us. To humans, she and we—we're both monsters."
Raze still looked uncertain.
"So… Selene will really help us? She can convince Reuel to send supplies? They'll help you… right?"
Lucian let out a heavy sigh. The question—and the innocent tone behind it—left him quietly shaking his head.
He stared at Raze for a long moment. His most loyal subordinate was strong and fierce, but his thinking was still too simple. He didn't understand the complicated bond between Selene and Reuel. Raze could kill without hesitation, but he wasn't ready to lead.
"Selene is capable. That's all you need to know," Lucian said firmly. "Don't question her."
He locked eyes with Raze, ensuring his decision wouldn't be challenged.
"I'll reach out to her… when our supplies are truly gone."
---
Aboard the Dominion Warship — Low Earth Orbit
Inside the command deck of the Dominion-class warship, Reuel stood tall before a glowing blue holographic panel, bathed in its cold light. His conversation with Alexander Corvinus had just ended—a brief exchange, but laden with meaning.
Alexander had asked for one thing: the key.
In return, Reuel had named his price: two vials of Alexander's blood—for Amalia.
Reluctantly, Alexander had agreed.
In the corner of the room stood Amalia—a vampire noble clad in a sleek white dress, as delicate and ghostly as a wisp of mist. She observed the transaction in silence. Her gaze was sharp but unreadable. Something flickered behind her eyes—an emotion locked tightly beneath generations of pride.
"I won't thank you," Amalia said coldly. Her voice was sharp, high, and haughty—just as always.
Reuel turned slowly, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. His gaze didn't merely look—it assessed, the way a craftsman might examine his creation: beautiful, but deadly.
"Ha… tsk tsk. I never asked for your thanks," he replied lightly, but laced with biting sarcasm.
His eyes drifted to Amalia's marble-pale neck, then up to her chin, held high with defiance. He knew she wasn't trying to hide—she wanted to be seen. And yet, she stood frozen.
"You…!" Amalia snapped.
Her lips trembled, and her cheeks flushed—whether with anger or embarrassment, no one could say. Quickly, she turned away, hiding the emotional outburst that had nearly escaped.
Before things could escalate, footsteps approached. Selene's voice cut through the tension—calm, but taut with unease.
"Reuel. Why does Alexander want that key?" she asked sharply. "Is he… planning to release William?"
Her tone shifted. This wasn't just a question—it was vigilance. She knew who William was—the First Monster, the ancient Lycan imprisoned by his own father. Selene knew even more now, having heard the truth from Marcus himself, the Elder who had sacrificed every shred of his humanity to save his blood brother.
Reuel took a long breath. His eyes drifted to the starmap glowing atop the tactical table, where Mira Han was adjusting the projected trajectory of the Imperium of Man through the Underworld universe.
"Alexander wants to free his son," Reuel said quietly. "But even he doesn't know what he'll do afterward. That's his own flesh and blood… Will he kill William, or try to atone for his sins?"
He slowly shook his head. The weight of it was palpable.
"Selene, inform Major Hellsker to prepare. The war begins in a few days."
"Understood." Selene nodded. "I'll head to command and relay your orders."
Her tone shifted—suddenly lit with fire. Her eyes blazed, kindled by the thrill of battle.
For Selene, this wasn't just an order. It was an opportunity. A reason to fight for the vampire kind—her kind. She might be different, something in between, but vampire blood still coursed through her veins.
And on the battlefield… she was a goddess of slaughter.
Reuel watched her walk away, then smiled faintly. Inwardly, he muttered to himself:
Wild women who love battle…
It's always like this… for some reason, I'm always surrounded by women like them.
Fighters. Beautiful. Dangerous.
Women like them… could never be tamed by ordinary men.