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Lycan's Den
The only sound in the den was Michael's shallow breaths, his body wracked with weakness. But deep within him, something was changing, a transformation slow and agonizing. His bones cracked and shifted, rearranging themselves into something new.
"Ahh," Michael moaned, the sound muffled as he remained unconscious.
Time stretched on, measured only by the echoing silence. Then, hurried footsteps pounded through the den. Lucian, the leader of the Lycans, had returned, his men flanking him, ready to offer support. But it was too late.
Lucian's face contorted with fury as he surveyed the scene. His gaze swept over the fallen Lycans, their lifeless forms sprawled across the floor. Then, he moved toward the corpses of the Murciélagos, his jaw tightening.
"Is everyone dead?" he asked, his voice laced with a grim urgency. He recognized the Murciélagos, having fought vampires for centuries. But these creatures were different, stronger, their wings a chilling anomaly.
"No," Raze replied, inspecting a fallen Lycan's body.
"Roderick and Sean survived."
"Are they the ones who killed these things?" one of the men asked, his voice filled with shock as he kicked a Murciélago's corpse.
"No. Whoever did this," Singe said, his eyes fixed on the scorched walls and floor, "is capable of something truly extraordinary."
"What even are these things?" one of the Lycans asked, his confusion evident.
"Murciélagos," Lucian explained, his gaze locked on the scorched walls, "are the result of a failed vampire experiment. Or perhaps, not so much a failure," he added, a flicker of unease in his voice.
"Do you have any clues about how they became like that?" Lucian pressed, a sense of urgency building within him. He was discovering new things about the vampires, things that filled him with a growing unease. 'The white-haired vampire, now these creatures,' he thought, their enemies kept evolving, becoming more powerful.
Singe shook his head, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"No, but if we can bring a corpse back, I might be able to figure something out." He was eager to examine the Murciélagos' remains, hoping to unlock the secrets they held.
"And the foot at the entrance?" Lucian asked, his gaze falling to the severed foot clutched in Singe's hand.
"I won't know if it's from a vampire until I can analyze its cells," Singe said, his annoyance growing as he surveyed the wreckage of his scientific instruments. "But my tools are destroyed."
"Pack what you can," Lucian ordered, his voice heavy with weariness. "We need to leave."
"I know," Singe agreed, turning to enter the room. But before he could step inside, a Lycan with dark bluish skin, elongated face, and a slightly extended ribcage, a testament to his hybrid nature, burst into the den. His black eyes flickered with a sense of urgency.
As the Lycan entered, his bones began to recede, his skin returning to its normal hue. His black eyes vanished. He walked towards Lucian with hurried steps showing his anxiousness.
"They're coming," the Lycan reported, his voice laced with a sense of dread. "They're coming down."
Lucian's expression hardened, his gaze sweeping over his men.
"Take one of the corpses. Take anything you can carry," he ordered, his voice firm. "We need to leave. Now."
The Lycans looked at each other, then two of them retrieved a body bag from the room, the same kind used for dispatching the remains of failed Corvinus descendants.
They placed the Murciélago's corpse inside and carried it towards the underground tunnels.
Lucian observed his men scrambling to gather whatever they could before their retreat. But then, Raze's voice cut through the chaos.
"Lucian, what are we going to do with this guy?" Raze asked, kicking Michael lightly.
Lucian walked beside Raze, his gaze fixed on Michael. "He's changing," Raze whispered, his brow furrowed. "No one bit him before we left. It must have been the attackers."
"Should we kill him?" Raze asked, his hand hovering over the pistol at his waist.
Lucian focused his hearing on Michael, listening intently to the subtle shifts and creaks of his bones, the subtle change in his physique. Lucian's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Michael. He observed Michael's body, his senses attuned to every change, every creak of bone, every shift in muscle. Then, he turned to Raze, his decision already made.
"No," Lucian said, his voice firm. "Take him with us. He might be able to tell us what happened." He knew the probability was high that Michael had seen the attackers, their faces, their actions, their goals.
Raze grunted, his expression a mix of annoyance and begrudging acceptance. He roughly picked up Michael, hauling him onto his shoulders.
"Fine," he muttered, following Lucian out of the den.
The remaining Lycans, laden with whatever they could salvage, followed suit, their steps echoing through the den as they retreated into the labyrinthine tunnels. Behind them, Michael's moans continued, a stark reminder of the chaos they were fleeing, the unknown horrors they were leaving behind.
•-----•-----•-----•-----•
Budapest, Széll Kálmán tér Station
On the streets near the Széll Kálmán tér Station, a scene of chaos unfolded. Soldiers, police, and medics rushed to aid the injured, their faces grim as they tended to the wounded. Police officers cordoned off the area, stringing yellow tape across the street, pushing back a throng of anxious onlookers. Reporters, desperate for answers, pressed forward.
"Tell us what happened!" one man shouted at the police.
"Yeah, are we under attack?!" a woman exclaimed, her voice laced with fear as she surveyed the scene of destruction.
"Is there gonna be a war?" an elderly man asked, his voice trembling with the unsettling thought of global conflict.
"Calm down, everyone!" A military colonel stepped forward, his voice booming over the crowd. "The government is doing everything it can to help the injured and track down those responsible." He tried to quell the rising panic, but the whispers continued, growing more frantic.
"Sir, sir," a reporter interjected, thrusting his microphone into the colonel's face. "Why are you keeping people away from the scene? What happened inside the station? Is the military involved in this?"
The colonel's face tightened, his brow furrowed. 'I'm trying to find out myself,' he thought, a sense of unease settling over him. He had been on vacation when the attack on Budapest had erupted, and he still had more questions than answers.
He opened his mouth to respond, but his words were cut short. From a distance, a sleek black SUV rushed towards them.
"Make way! Make way for the car!" the colonel barked, pushing the reporter aside. He barked orders to his men.
The reporter's eyes widened, excitement bubbling inside him. 'Big news,' he thought, following close behind the colonel.
The black SUV pulled to a halt, its tires screeching against the pavement. The vehicle stopped just beyond the yellow tape, its occupants waiting for the police to grant them passage.
One of the officers approached the car, hand reaching for the window to ask for identification. But before he could knock, the colonel's voice cut through the air.
"You can go," the colonel said, his voice firm.
"I'll handle this."
The officer, recognizing the colonel's rank, snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, sir."
The colonel strode towards the car, his gaze focused on the driver's seat. He knocked his knuckles against the window, but it was the backseat window that slid down, revealing a man wearing sunglasses. The man produced an identification card, extending it towards the colonel.
The colonel took the card, his eyes narrowing as he read it. "Henry Carver, DIVISION?" he repeated, his voice rising, a wave of shock washing over him. With his rank the colonel had heard whispers of this organization, a clandestine group of awakened humans, rumored to supposedly guard the mortal world from supernatural creatures.
"Can we go in?" Henry asked, his voice calm and measured as he reclaimed his identification.
"Yes, yes, of course," the colonel stammered, his voice still tinged with disbelief. He turned to the police.
"Let them in!"
The officers quickly removed the yellow tape. The car window began to roll back up, but the reporter, his instincts screaming at him, thrust his hand forward, halting the window in its tracks.
"What do you know about what happened?" the reporter asked, his microphone pointed at Henry Carver.
"And what is this so-called 'Division' Is it part of the government?"
"I don't think news stations are allowed to broadcast this incident live," Henry said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze meeting the cameraman's.
"No, this is just a recording," the reporter insisted, a confident smile playing on his lips.
"You can think about what you want to say."
"Is that so?" Henry replied, tucking his identification into his suit pocket. He removed his sunglasses, his eyes meeting the reporter's.
"How about a vacation?" Henry asked, his voice smooth.
"What?" The reporter's brow furrowed, his expression shifting to one of confusion before turning into shock as he saw Henry's eyes flickered into full black.
"I think both of you could use a break," Henry said, his voice laced with an unsettling calm.
"Enjoy a night in Budapest, away from work. And of course, you could always delete the footage."
Henry's eyes returned to their normal color, and the window slid shut. The car, with a silent rumbling of the car's engine it began to move forward, rolling towards the subway station. The police officers, hurriedly re-established the yellow tape to not let anyone in.
"Yeah, I always wanted to go on vacation,"
the reporter muttered, his voice now absentmindedly before his gaze fixed on the camera man.
"How about we eat? I heard there's a famous restaurant in Budapest." The reporter asked like nothing happened.
The cameraman, was happy getting a vacation mumbled an agreement. While quickly deleting the footage, his hands swift like it was a normal thing to do.
"Yeah, sure, I don't have any plans anyway."
The reporter and cameraman, talking and laughing, turned and walked away, abandoning their pursuit of the story like it was nothing.
The colonel watched the car disappear into the station, his body trembling with a mix of fear and confusion. He watched the police and soldiers re-establish the cordon, their movements stilted and uncertain.
"Don't mess with them," the colonel muttered to himself, the chilling encounter echoing in his mind.
He had felt the power radiating from those black eyes, the chilling sense of mind control. It sends shivers down his spine when he thinks about the reporter and cameraman's being easily controlled.
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END OF CHAPTER
Extra Chapter for 200 Power Stones
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UPCOMING CHAPTERS SPOILERS:
Chapter 86: Division Part 2, Chapter 87: Sancta Helena Part 1, Chapter 88: Sancta Helena Part 2, Chapter 89: Sancta Helena Part 3, Chapter 90: Sancta Helena Part 4, Chapter 91: Sancta Helena Last Part, Chapter 92: Going Back, Chapter 93: Meeting Part 1, Chapter 94: Meeting Part 2, Chapter 95: Suspicion s, Chapter 96: The Deal, Chapter 97: Sexual Tension, Chapter 98: Resigning & Joining, Chapter 99: Arrivals, Chapter 100: Introduction, Chapter 101: Information, Chapter 102: Temptations, Chapter 103: A intense bath R18, Chapter 104: Wryness R18, Chapter 105: Mitsuki's Powers, Chapter 106: Getting Ready, Chapter 107: Getting Ready(2), Chapter 108: Corvinus Castle, Chapter 109: Corvinus Castle, Chapter 110: A Hybrids Fall, Chapter 111: I told you so, Chapter 112: It's You, Chapter 113: Continuation, Chapter 114: William's Prison, Chapter 115: William's Prison(2), Chapter 116: William's Prison(3), Chapter 117: Death of the Twins
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