Reuel cast a brief glance toward Selene and Amalia, who were still deep in serious conversation. Without saying a single word, he turned and walked with firm steps toward the warship's hangar.
His objective was clear—he wanted to confront Marcus Corvinus directly, test his strength, and confirm whether the system's check-in process could be triggered to obtain the promised reward.
As a passing Astra Militarum officer came into view, Reuel immediately issued an order.
"Contact the ship's captain. Tell him to establish communication with Mira Han. Order her to return to Earth. Once she arrives, we'll begin the takeover of Earth in the Underworld universe," Reuel said, his tone firm and cold.
"Order received, Lord Emperor!" the officer responded, giving a crisp salute.
Without delay, the officer rushed toward the command center, where the battlecruiser's captain awaited.
Meanwhile, Reuel watched him leave for a moment before turning and heading for the main hangar. There, he immediately instructed one of the pilots to ready a craft.
"Take me to Marcus Corvinus's last known location."
The pilot simply nodded, then swiftly activated the Medivac's engines. A low rumble filled the air as the turbines spun to life, and the craft slowly lifted off from the hangar floor—carrying Reuel toward the fate that awaited him.
---
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit underground chamber surrounded by towering shelves lined with dusty ancient scrolls, a vampire historian was enjoying his solitude. His hands moved deftly, flipping through the fragile parchment, eyes scanning line after line of history long buried by time.
But the peace shattered instantly.
Creeeak...
The heavy door at the far end of the room opened slowly. A tall, shadowed figure stepped in, bringing with him a chill that instantly filled the air.
Marcus Corvinus.
The historian's face drained of all color. He knew exactly who stood before him. More than just a legend—Marcus was a nightmare from the past that should've stayed buried.
"E-Elder Marcus Corvinus…" the vampire stammered, his voice trembling. He dropped to his knees immediately, bowing his head low, shaking in the presence of the figure he'd only read about in forbidden scrolls.
Marcus's gaze was cold. "I've come for one thing. Where is the prison holding my brother, William?"
His tone was flat. Void of emotion. Just a will that brooked no argument.
"M-My lord… I-I know…" the vampire replied, his voice breaking. "I can tell you. But… please… don't kill me…"
Fear crept from every pore of his body. His shivering resembled that of a man trapped in cursed snow.
Marcus stepped forward slowly.
"No need for words. I can take what I need… from your blood."
He drew closer, voice low but brimming with a chilling, undeniable threat.
"So keep quiet… if you want to avoid the pain… before you die."
CRACK!
Bones snapped.
SQUELCH!
A wet, sickening sound filled the room as Marcus's fangs pierced the pale vampire's flesh. The air grew frigid. His breath brushed the victim's neck, accompanied by a sharp hiss—
"Ssshhh…"
"No! M-My lo—AAGHH…!" the vampire screamed.
His words drowned in pain. In an instant, Marcus drove his fangs deeper, draining not just blood, but the entire stream of memories from the quivering body.
Marcus pulled back slowly, breathing heavy but steady.
"So… that's where they're keeping my brother William…" he muttered flatly, dropping the lifeless body to the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He stood still for a moment, processing the flood of information he had just absorbed. His eyes narrowed.
"But I still need the key… Where did they hide it?"
Then, footsteps echoed behind him. Marcus turned swiftly, body tense, fangs bared.
There stood a man—long black hair, sharp Middle Eastern features, golden irises gleaming. He wore a crisp white shirt beneath a neat black coat, and stared at Marcus with unnatural calm.
"Who are you?" Marcus demanded. "Answer me now."
His gaze was sharp, cutting, full of suspicion.
The man gave a slight smile. "Relax… I'm just passing through. Thought I'd check on a son so devoted to his father—he wants to kill him," he said, sarcastically. "Then, somehow, I found you."
His tone was soft, but deliberately mocking. This was Reuel. And his presence here was no accident. He had come to see for himself whether Marcus Corvinus's blood was worth collecting.
Marcus stared at Reuel in disbelief. How could anyone stand before him without a trace of fear?
Meanwhile, Reuel casually strolled around the chamber, observing the ancient shelves and moss-covered stones, as if Marcus were just part of the decor.
"You must be tired of living, human," Marcus hissed.
But Reuel didn't even glance back. No tension. He kept walking slowly, as though enjoying a quiet afternoon in the park.
Marcus couldn't hold back his rage.
With supernatural speed, he lunged—claws out, fangs wide, ready to rip.
BWOOSH!!
A sudden kick smashed into Marcus's gut. The sound rang like thunder.
KRAKK!!
Marcus's body flew across the room, slamming into the damp cave wall. Cracks formed, stones fell, and debris scattered in every direction.
"UGHAAKH!"
Marcus coughed violently, buried under rubble.
Reuel stood before the wreckage in silence, then let out a quiet sigh.
"What a waste… I only wanted to look around," he muttered flatly.
He stepped into the main chamber, pulling out a small device like an injector. Calmly, he extracted blood from Marcus's pinned body.
One vial. Two. Then five—all filled with thick, crimson liquid.
Marcus began to groan. His eyes fluttered open slowly. And when he saw it—his own blood—in Reuel's hand, his fury exploded.
"You… filthy human… I'll make you scream before you die!"
With a monstrous roar, Marcus rose from the rubble—transforming.
Bat wings burst from his back, his skin darkened, claws lengthened. The terrifying figure from the past was once again standing tall, ready to annihilate everything before him.
He lunged again.
DUAR!!
A clean punch smashed into his face, sending him sprawling.
Reuel walked slowly, placing his foot on Marcus's chest—pinning the now feral, mutated body effortlessly.
"You're pathetic, Marcus."
His voice was flat, full of disgust. Not a shred of respect.
To Reuel, Marcus wasn't a vampire king—just a failed shadow of Alexander Corvinus's name. An imperfect mutation. A relic.
Marcus roared, clawing at Reuel's leg in fury.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Metal clashed with metal. Not a scratch landed on the man.
"Don't test me… Or I really will kill you. This time, I let you live—for his sake."
And then—
DOOM!!
One final kick sent Marcus flying into the wall. His body slumped, unmoving. Unconscious.
---
When Marcus regained consciousness, the room had fallen into silence.
There was no sign of the mysterious man. All that remained was a suffocating stillness—and his own body, staggering from the wounds.
His eyes widened. Reuel was gone—along with the five vials of blood freshly drawn from his veins. But what disturbed him the most was this: the man had never spoken his name. And yet… he clearly knew Marcus. Knew him too well.
High above the clouds, a Medivac aircraft slowly disappeared into the distance. Its engines hummed softly as it lifted from the earth and pierced the atmosphere, heading for the massive Battlecruiser calmly floating in orbit.
Inside, Reuel sat in silence. His expression was unreadable, but the glint in his eyes spoke of deep disappointment.
There had been no notification from the system.
No check-in.
No reward.
Just ancient vampire blood—wasted time.
With a bitter heart, Reuel returned to the Battlecruiser, lost in the rapid churn of his own thoughts.
---
Central Military Command – Hungarian Government Barracks
In the command room, a large screen displayed thermal images from military drones and satellites. General Ferenc Veér stood tall at the center of the room, monitoring the sweeping cleanup operation still underway.
His forces were hunting down the remnants of vampires who had escaped the previous battle. So far, most of the targets had been eliminated.
It was a success. Technically, at least.
"Have you found out where that helicopter came from?" Veér asked, eyes fixed on the screen.
A young officer beside him looked uneasy.
"General, we've found nothing… aside from a few eyewitness accounts. No aircraft ID, no transponder signals."
"Then check again. Use the satellites—deploy all available units. I want to know who tampered with our operation."
A vein pulsed on General Veér's temple. An unmarked helicopter had infiltrated their military zone, and to this moment, no one knew where it came from. To him, that was a slap in the face to national defense.
Immediately, his forces launched another wave of investigation. Still, nothing.
Beneath the shadow of the Red Queen system and the orbital protection of the Battlecruiser, the aircraft's existence remained undetectable.
---
The report of the failure reached the desk of Minister of Defense, János Szabó.
He read it with a stony face, fingers pinching his temples.
Most vampires had been exterminated, but the ancient one—The Elder—was still at large.
That was unacceptable.
Doubting the current military capabilities, Minister Szabó immediately issued a direct order:
"Inform Intelligence. From this moment, the police will operate fully alongside the military. We must locate that monster—and make sure they understand: this comes as a direct order from the President."
---
That command spread like lightning.
Within hours, a massive search operation began.
Across Hungary, both military and police scoured cities and countryside alike. Every corner was inspected. Every civilian report investigated. There was no room for complacency.
Civilians were given no details.
All they knew was this: something—something terrifying—was being hunted.
Most chose to stay indoors.
They shut their windows, turned off their lights, and refused to open their doors.
Too afraid to ask questions.
---
Then one day, a report came in.
A civilian contacted the police about a sighting of a winged creature on a remote farm outside the city.
It took only minutes before a rapid-response team was deployed.
Fighter jets and military helicopters roared toward the reported coordinates. The night sky lit up with searchlights and the thunder of engines.
On the ground, Marcus—still hiding—became aware of the danger closing in.
He soared into the air, trying to escape into the dense forest darkness. But he didn't get far.
A military helicopter locked onto him.
A blinding white searchlight struck his eyes. Then more followed.
BRRRTTT!! BRRRRTTTT!!
Heavy machine gun fire erupted. The night sky turned into a field of fire and steel.
WHUUMP-WHUUMP—BRRRRRRRRT!
Rotor blades chopped the air, blending with the roar of ammunition tearing through the atmosphere.
Bullets rained on Marcus. He dodged and twisted—
But they were too many. And their firepower was overwhelming.
TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK!
BOOM!
At last, Marcus was shot down. His wings shredded, his body crashed to the ground with brutal force. He was gravely wounded.
The military sealed off the area and captured him without serious resistance.
---
Battlecruiser Warship – Private Quarters
The air inside Reuel's private chamber was warm and still—a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding on the world below, and the cold silence of space beyond the massive observation window.
Behind the thick steel walls of the warship, two figures lay quietly.
Selene rested in Reuel's arms, her body half-covered by a blanket, her eyes staring blankly at the star-speckled sky. Though their bodies were at ease, their minds were far from it.
News of Marcus's capture had spread fast. Their internal intel network always knew first—long before Earth's media caught on.
Yet Reuel didn't react. No orders. No anger. Not even a shift in his expression.
As if it didn't concern him at all.
To Reuel, Marcus's fate was Alexander Corvinus's business—his father… and perhaps the only one who still cared enough to intervene.
"Marcus has been captured," Selene finally whispered, soft but sharp. "Do you think… Alexander will step in to save him?"
Reuel continued staring out the window, into the vast emptiness of space.
"I don't know," he replied flatly. "I really can't guess what that old man is thinking anymore."
Silence fell again. A subtle tension hung in the room.
But Selene, as always, refused to dwell too long in speculation that led nowhere.
"Anyway," she said, shifting the topic, "Lucian contacted me today. He's asking for weapons. But… their logistics are running thin too."
L
That name instantly changed Reuel's gaze. His eyes narrowed, jaw tightened.
"Lucian?" he muttered coldly. "That mutt's still alive… and starving, apparently."
His voice dripped with mockery. "I thought they were just hiding. Looks like things are worse than I thought."
He sighed, clearly uninterested in digging further.
"Take whatever you want from the military stockpile. If you want to help them, go ahead."
Selene raised an eyebrow.
"So you're actually allowing it? In that case, I'll give them a little. Lucian… still has his uses."
"Handle it yourself," Reuel said without looking at her. "Give them whatever you think is necessary. We've got more than enough. Those weapons are useless just sitting in storage."
A faint smile crept onto Selene's face. She knew Reuel well—he never issued direct orders unless it was a priority. But when he gave permission, he meant it.
"Alright then. I'll send the logistics. Lucian may be stubborn, but he's still reliable."
"Do what needs to be done. Meanwhile, I'll find out… where Kraven is hiding."
That name made Selene glance back for a moment before she finally rose from the bed. With practiced ease, she slipped back into her iconic combat suit—sleek, black leather, ready to move at a moment's notice.
"Then I'll handle the delivery now."
Before she left, Selene leaned down and kissed Reuel gently on the lips. A brief farewell—but one heavy with meaning.
Reuel said nothing. But he returned the kiss.
---
A few minutes later—
Six Medivac transport units detached from the belly of the Battlecruiser, piercing through the atmosphere with precision and speed. Their engines hummed steadily, carrying a mission that could not fail.
Each aircraft bore large containers filled with food, automatic weapons, high-tech ammunition, and survival gear—all bound for secret coordinates sent by Lucian himself.
To the Lycans, this wasn't just logistical support.
It was a sign they hadn't been forgotten.
A sliver of hope, in a war with no end in sight.
Werewolf Hideout – Underground Bunker
The Lycans' condition was steadily deteriorating. Food supplies were nearly depleted, and with the vampire clans nearly extinct, pressure on their faction had grown exponentially. They no longer dared set foot in cities—too great a risk of drawing attention from a far more dangerous threat: mankind.
Inside the cold, damp underground bunker, Lucian stood before a narrow crack in a crumbling concrete wall, staring out at the barren, mist-shrouded landscape beyond. The wind hissed through the crevices, carrying with it a chill that sank deep into the bones.
Lucian (in thought):
Kraven has vanished… If the government is truly throwing its full military weight into this, do we even stand a chance to survive?
His thoughts were interrupted by the rusty creak of the iron door behind him.
"Boss. Selene's here," Raze said curtly.
Lucian turned at once.
"Come on. With me," he ordered.
They moved swiftly to the surface. In the distance, six Medivac transports sliced through the sky, engines purring low. In perfect formation, the crafts descended onto the clearing near the bunker entrance.
As the cargo doors opened, Selene stepped out—poised and cold, clad in her signature black leather. Lucian approached her at once, his stride swift but measured.
"Selene. Welcome," Lucian greeted, his voice more genuine than usual.
"Lucian, I've brought food and supplies. For the record—this is all standard-issue military gear from the government. None of it is Reuel's private stash," Selene replied, her tone firm yet professional.
She gestured toward the large containers being unloaded by the Terran personnel.
"Get your pack to carry it all in. Now."
Lucian paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the containers.
"Thank you, Selene…" he murmured, almost in disbelief. "I didn't expect this much. It's… far more than we hoped for."
He raised his hand, signaling the Lycans. They moved quickly, unloading the supplies with precision—hungry, but still disciplined.
"Lucian," Selene said, her eyes sharp. "You need to be far more cautious now. The vampire clans are almost gone. If the humans find you out there… it could mean the end of your kind."
Her voice was cold—but in her eyes was a quiet, unspoken concern.
Lucian nodded slowly. "I know. We'll be more careful."
Once she ensured the cargo was handled properly, Selene returned to her Medivac. Moments later, the engines roared to life, the ship lifting smoothly and streaking back toward the Battlecruiser, disappearing into the gray sky.
---
Sancta Helena Seacraft – Open Waters
In the command room of the seafaring vessel Sancta Helena, Alexander Corvinus stood with his back to a holographic display showing drone footage and field reports from the Cleaners. Before him: the latest military documentation—Marcus Corvinus had been captured by Hungarian government forces.
He said nothing. His gaze was cold, unreadable. Behind the ageless face, his mind was weighing the next move.
"Marcus…" he muttered softly. "I know you're waiting for me. But I can't be reckless. Their aerial surveillance is too tight. They lay traps like they're hunting some ancient beast."
Then, his eyes narrowed. A thought emerged.
Alexander drew a deep breath and turned away from the console, his expression hardening with resolve.
"It's time to call Reuel. The pact must be honored. This time… he will act."
The decision was made.
He had already given his blood to Reuel three times—part of an ancient agreement known only to a handful of immortals. Now, it was Reuel's turn to fulfill his end.
And that meant one thing: extracting Marcus from the heart of the most fortified military compound in Central Europe.
Minutes later, Alexander received the full tactical report: Marcus was imprisoned in a maximum-security military complex, guarded by over twenty thousand soldiers with fully active anti-air defenses.
Alexander knew one thing for certain—
The Cleaners wouldn't be enough.
Only one force could breach such defenses:
Reuel's unmatched technology and firepower.
And this time, there would be no delay.
---