Selene's body went rigid, her back arching as Victor's ancient blood flooded her system. Centuries of memories, of rage, duty, and love, crashed through her mind like a tidal wave, pulling her under. Her eyes glazed over, unfocused, lost in the vast, silent ocean of the elder's experiences.
Nearby, Michael's hybrid form rippled. Fur and claws withdrew, hissing back beneath the skin. Fangs shortened, and his frame shrank, bones shifting back to human proportions. He let out a sharp gasp and steadied himself on the uneven stone floor, still adapting to the dizzying aftereffects of the transformation.
The surviving vampires and werewolves had already split into two distinct, wary camps. The Death Dealers, weapons lowered but still held ready, formed a protective circle around Selene's motionless form. Victor had named her his successor in front of everyone. That made her their new elder, whether she wanted the title or not.
The werewolves, seeing their own chain of command shattered, instinctively understood Michael's importance. He was source blood, the strongest among them now. With Lucian dead, along with the doctor,Raze and Connor, they had no other choice but to rally around him. They gathered close, their low growls a testament to their fear as they watched the two Fraternity operatives warily.
Michael stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating, open-palmed gesture. "Gentlemen, we're not enemies here."
Alexei glanced at the smoking, ashen corpse of Victor and the cooling body of Lucian, then gave a small, indifferent shrug. "Everyone who needed to die is already dead."
The tension in the room, thick enough to taste, dropped several degrees. Vampires and werewolves alike released held breaths, their shoulders slumping in visible relief.
Selene's eyes suddenly focused. She pulled free from the memory trance with a sharp intake of breath and looked down at the pile of ash that had been Victor. Her expression twisted, a storm of conflicting emotions passing over her face. Hatred. Grief. Confusion.
The memories had confirmed everything. Victor had murdered her family. But they had also shown her something else. For hundreds of years, his love for her, his protection, had been genuine. He truly had seen her as the daughter he'd been forced to execute centuries ago.
Not that it mattered now. The Fraternity had already delivered justice. Her revenge was complete, even if she hadn't been the one to pull the trigger.
She approached Smith and Alexei, her posture straight and respectful. "Thank you both. For avenging me and for upholding justice." She inclined her head. "Do you have any other instructions?"
Smith studied her for a moment, his face unreadable. "Handle your internal affairs. After that, head to New York. That's where the real battle for the Dragon Balls will take place."
He turned to leave, his long duster sweeping over the stone. Alexei fell into step beside him.
As the two Fraternity operatives disappeared into the shadows of the tunnels, Michael led the remaining werewolves toward one exit while Selene, her thoughts clearly elsewhere, guided the vampires toward another. Both of them wanted to discuss a new peace between their peoples, but this wasn't the right time. Too much blood had been spilled. Too many fresh corpses littered the cold floor.
Less than an hour after the last supernatural creature left the base, a convoy of black, unmarked vehicles rolled up to the derelict subway entrance. The rumble of their engines was the only sound. Heavily armed special forces soldiers poured out, their movements silent, their weapons ready. They moved through the abandoned facility with practiced, military precision, collecting every vampire and werewolf corpse they could find.
The bodies were zipped into heavy-duty bags, loaded into armed helicopters, and transported away. Within two hours, the battlefield had been scrubbed clean. No evidence remained that anything unusual had happened here.
At the vampire castle, Kraven's corpse lay forgotten on the cold stone floor of the main hall. His dark blood seeped between the ancient cracks, trickling down, down into the hidden, sealed chamber below.
A single drop of blood touched the dry, pale lips of Marcus.
The ancient vampire's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly in the pitch blackness. Kraven's memories flooded into him, a sudden, violent rush showing him everything that had transpired during his long sleep. The wars. The betrayals. Victor's death.
No one had opened the mechanism to release Marcus from his tomb. He didn't wait for permission.
Crack. Stone exploded outward as Marcus burst through the floor of the hall, landing in a crouch. Massive, hairless, leathery wings spread wide from his back. He looked nothing like Victor or the other elders. His transformation into the first true vampire had changed him into something far more monstrous.
"Vampires. Werewolves," he hissed, his voice like dry leaves. "So much has changed while I slept."
He stretched his wings, testing them, the sound like stiff canvas unfolding. "Victor, you fool. Trading with werewolves through an agent? Pathetic."
The first hint of dawn was approaching, a faint grey light at the high windows. Marcus called the castle's few remaining vampires to him, his voice echoing with an authority they hadn't heard in centuries. He demanded a full report on everything that had happened since Victor's awakening.
With Selene and her Death Dealers still absent, no one could tell him about the night's true events. Marcus remained ignorant of how drastically the power structure had truly shifted.
Morning sunlight streamed through the clean windows of the Fraternity safehouse.
Smith had spent the entire night training, pushing his body through combat drills to work out the lingering, deep-muscle fatigue from overclocking. He was reviewing Kid Goku's template techniques, moving with fluid precision, when a soft alert came to his head.
Someone had found a Dragon Ball.
Bruce Banner.
Smith couldn't help but smile. Of course it was Banner. The guy had rotten luck in every way imaginable, except when it came to stumbling directly into important plot devices.
After the Hulk had escaped the factory, he had fled deep into the forest and hidden in a cave to escape the helicopters. When Banner regained control and transformed back, he'd apparently woken up cold, alone, and sitting next to the one-star ball, grabbing it without even realizing what it was.
Through the Dragon Ball's perspective, Smith watched Banner freeze in place as the information flooded into his mind. The scientist, looking ragged and thin, picked up the orange sphere, turning it over and over in his trembling hands with wonder.
"There are actually treasures like this in the world," Banner muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.
His scientific mind was already racing, the possibilities clicking into place. "Can it really grant any wish?" Hope, bright and dangerous, sparked in his eyes. "If I collect all seven and wish for Shenron to destroy the Hulk... could I finally be normal again?"
Banner clutched the Dragon Ball tighter, his knuckles white. Confidence flooded through him for the first time in months. Then his expression shifted, becoming analytical. He was already thinking about detection methods, energy signatures, ways to track down the other six balls. He'd done similar work before, using instruments to search for gamma signatures and exotic energy readings. This shouldn't be much different. The only problem was that he didn't have the right equipment here, in the middle of nowhere.
Banner made his decision. He'd return to Culver University in Virginia. Either he'd continue working with Mr. Blue to find a cure, or he'd pivot to collecting the Dragon Balls. Maybe both.
He carefully pocketed the smooth, warm sphere and started the long walk back to civilization.
Smith leaned back in his chair, processing this new development. Banner with a Dragon Ball was both an opportunity and a complication. The scientist was smart enough to be dangerous, but also desperate enough to make mistakes. This was going to get interesting.
At JFK Airport, a convoy of black SUVs rolled out onto the tarmac, engines purring.
Xu Xialing sat in the lead vehicle, the scent of jet fuel heavy in the air. Her expression was thoughtful. She pulled a photograph from her inner pocket and handed it to one of her subordinates.
"Find this man. He's my brother. Last I heard, he was hiding somewhere in San Francisco."
She tapped the photo. "Bring him to New York. Tell him I need to see him."
The subordinate examined the picture of Xu Shang Chi and nodded once, his expression professional. "Right away, ma'am."
Xialing settled back into the plush leather seat as the convoy pulled away from the airport. Bringing in her brother was a calculated move. Xu Shang Chi had received more of their father's training than she had. He was stronger, more skilled, and owed her a debt he couldn't refuse. If anyone could help her secure a Dragon Ball, it was him.
The convoy eventually pulled up to John Wick's quiet suburban estate. The legendary assassin was already waiting at the front door, his posture relaxed but perfectly alert.
Xialing stepped out of the vehicle, the air crisp and clean. "You really love this place. You always choose to meet here."
John's lips quirked in a small, rare smile. "This is where dreams begin." He extended his hand, palm up. "Did you bring it?"
Xialing reached into her jacket and pulled out the heavy, dark token she'd worked so hard to acquire. She placed it in John's palm.
John examined the token briefly, his fingers closing around it, then reached into his own pocket. He produced a gold coin, its surface marked with unique symbols. The coin caught the morning sunlight, glinting brightly.
"This is your entry ticket. From now on, you're eligible to compete for the Dragon Balls."
He pressed the cool, heavy coin into her hand. "You'll be notified when the battle officially begins."
Xialing studied the coin carefully, her thumb rubbing the embossed emblems, before tucking it away in a secure inner pocket. She had traded her token for this opportunity. She couldn't afford to lose it.
John watched her secure the coin, then stepped back. "We're even now. Good luck to you."
Xialing met his eyes and gave a single, sharp nod. She climbed back into the SUV, and the door closed with a solid thunk. The convoy rolled away, leaving John Wick standing alone in front of his villa.
Inside the vehicle, as they pulled onto the main road, Xialing allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She had her ticket. Her brother would soon be on his way to New York. The pieces were falling into place.
Now all she needed was to survive long enough to make her wish.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Writing takes time, coffee, and a lot of love.If you'd like to support my work, join me at [email protected]/GoldenGaruda
You'll get early access to over 50 chapters, selection on new series, and the satisfaction of knowing your support directly fuels more stories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~