Hearing the impatience in William's voice, the nine-person team didn't hesitate. Carrying Selene's crate, they followed Sunday's guidance out of the air raid shelter. When they surfaced, they saw Merlin's truck parked alongside two others.
Gunnar placed Selene's crate into the truck where William was waiting, then joined the others in Merlin's vehicle to rearm and pursue the remaining werewolves in London.
Once the door of his truck was closed, William scanned the crate with his mental powers. He quickly noticed a small hole in the box—likely made by someone in the field—and sensed that Selene had already woken up. Amused, he smirked but chose to let it slide.
As soon as the Expendables and Kingsman teams departed, the thirty combat robots stationed at the werewolves' escape routes began dragging the fallen werewolves' corpses back into the air raid shelter.
Any remaining werewolves who had inhaled the silver dust were no match for the robots' automated targeting systems. In mere moments, the machines dispatched them with brutal efficiency.
Once the tunnels and passageways were cleared, the robots moved into the air raid shelter itself. Two of them approached Lucian, who was chained to the wall, and replaced the hood over his head. After a short wait, a portal opened nearby.
Through it came a cleaning robot from the Yellowstone base, carrying a blood box filled with fresh blood extracted from a captured werewolf. The combat robot took the box, attached a needle to it, and inserted it into Lucian's main artery.
With the infusion of fresh blood, Lucian's condition stabilized within minutes. Although he was still too weak to move, he was no longer on the brink of death.
Meanwhile, in his truck, William activated a video call with Philip.
"How's it going, William?" Philip asked urgently as soon as his face appeared on screen. "I received reports that the gunfire on your end has stopped. Is it done?"
"Yes, it's done," William replied with a grin. "But if you or someone you know is familiar with Lucian, it's best to confirm his identity yourself."
"Understood," Philip nodded. "I'll connect us to Alexander Corvinus. He's been overseeing matters related to the werewolves and vampires for years."
"Wait," William interrupted before Philip could proceed. His tone was laced with curiosity. "That old ghost has been in contact with you all this time? Doesn't he worry about being used as a test subject for experiments?"
Philip sighed. "Starting sixty years ago, he's been donating his blood to us once every decade. Unfortunately, no one has been able to make any breakthroughs with it. The moment his blood or tissue samples leave his body for more than half an hour, they lose all their unique properties.
"And besides," Philip continued, his tone heavy with regret, "Corvinus has lived for centuries. Do you really think he wouldn't have something up his sleeve to make us think twice before trying anything?"
"Fair point," William said, leaning back in thought. He filed the information away and began mulling over his own contingencies. "Maybe it's time I prepared something similar for myself," he muttered under his breath, considering whether to investigate the rumored red mercury suitcase nuke allegedly stored in the Arctic.
Moments later, Alexander Corvinus's face appeared on the screen. His hair and beard were a stark white, a testament to his centuries of life.
"Good evening, Duke Devonshire," Corvinus greeted him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Corvinus," William replied with a polite smile. "You are, after all, a living legend."
"Enough pleasantries, William," Philip cut in impatiently. "Let's confirm Lucian's identity. Eliminating him, a first-generation werewolf with intelligence and the ability to transform back into human form, is crucial. Without him, the werewolves' strength will only weaken over time."
William nodded, fully understanding the logic. First-generation werewolves and vampires were inherently stronger due to their purer bloodlines. By removing the strongest members of their hierarchy, the overall threat posed by their descendants would diminish.
"Alright," William agreed, signaling to Sunday. Within seconds, the combat robots transmitted a live feed of Lucian's battered and chained form.
Corvinus studied the image for a few seconds before confirming, "That's him. He is Lucian." He hesitated briefly before adding, "I recall that he carries a brass necklace. It's an artifact. Would you be willing to hand it over to me?"
"You mean this?" William held up the necklace, his eyes glinting with mischief. "If I recall correctly, this thing is part of a key. And I hear someone's been seeking it for centuries."
Corvinus's expression faltered for a moment, betraying his surprise. He hadn't expected William to know that the necklace was part of the key to unlocking the prison of his second son, William Corvinus, the original werewolf.
"You know its significance," Corvinus said cautiously. "Then you must also understand the risks of keeping it. Are you prepared for what might happen if certain individuals come looking for it?"
William smirked. "Oh, I'm very prepared. In fact, I'd love for someone to try taking it without paying. That'd give me the perfect excuse to eliminate them."
Corvinus fell silent, weighing his options. The young duke's nonchalant demeanor belied the ruthless competence he had demonstrated. In just one month of planning and one hour of execution, William had managed to capture Lucian—a feat no one had accomplished in centuries—and annihilate hundreds of werewolves in the process.
"Fine," Corvinus said after a moment. "I hear you're a collector of antiques. How about two Picasso paintings in exchange for the necklace?"
"How much are they worth?" William asked, his tone growing sharper. He wasn't about to accept just any paintings. He knew that the value of artwork depended heavily on its size, the artist's creative phase, and any historical significance tied to its creation.
"Approximately £40 million," Corvinus replied.
William's face remained impassive, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. "Not enough. This thing is deeply tied to your family. And you, Lord Corvinus, have lived for centuries. Surely you can offer something more fitting."
"Just say what you want," Corvinus said, his voice tinged with irritation.
William's grin widened. "Nothing less than £200 million worth of antiques, preferably limited to five pieces of artwork. And I want masterpieces—Picasso, Monet, Van Gogh, or someone of that caliber."
Silence filled the room.
Corvinus's hand trembled slightly, his anger barely contained. Even Philip, watching from the side, was left speechless. Finally, the king broke the silence, remarking, "I think I need to have Wilson learn a thing or two from you, William. You're the most shameless negotiator I've ever met."
After a long pause, Corvinus gritted his teeth and said, "Fine. By tomorrow morning, I'll have my people deliver the paintings to your estate. Now, can I have the necklace?"
"No problem," William replied easily. "Have your people come pick it up."
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I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
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