Lucius
The Carpathian Mountains rose like ancient teeth against the night sky.
Snow covered everything—peaks, valleys, the helicopter's landing zone four hundred meters from our target. The cold was irrelevant to immortal physiology, but the isolation wasn't. No civilization within fifty kilometers. No witnesses. No rescue if things went wrong.
The prison emerged from the mountainside like something from a nightmare that had been waiting eight centuries for visitors.
Gothic architecture carved directly into stone, gargoyles worn smooth by time and weather, massive doors designed to contain something that couldn't be contained by conventional means. Selene's father had built this place—the architect who'd died to keep its location secret, whose daughter now carried the key around her neck.
[ BLOOD APPRAISAL: WILLIAM'S PRISON ]
[ WILLIAM CORVINUS - WEREWOLF PROGENITOR - 687 BP ]
[ STATUS: IMPRISONED. AWARE. WAITING. ]
[ THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME ]
The signature pulsed from inside the mountain like a diseased heartbeat. Raw. Hungry. Carrying eight hundred years of accumulated rage.
Alexander stopped us fifty meters from the door.
"Once opened, William will explode outward," he said. His voice carried the weight of someone who'd faced this creature before—and nearly died. "He doesn't think, doesn't assess, doesn't hesitate. Pure instinct, pure hunger, pure destruction."
"Killzone," I said. "We funnel him into crossfire."
"Exactly." Alexander studied the terrain with tactical precision. "Selene—high ground, there." He pointed to a rock formation overlooking the approach. "Sniper position. Silver rounds, target the eyes when possible. Blind him long enough for others to strike."
Selene moved without argument, climbing the rocks with six centuries of predatory grace.
"Michael—flank left. Don't engage directly until you see an opening. Your hybrid form is powerful but uncontrolled—William will exploit hesitation."
Michael nodded, jaw tight. His shoulder still ached from the Sancta Helena sparring sessions, but he'd recovered enough to fight.
"I'll take right," Alexander continued. "This sword was forged to kill William—never succeeded, but it damages him more than conventional weapons. I'll target joints, tendons, anything that limits mobility."
"And me?"
Alexander met my eyes. "You're the bait. Center position. William sees you as rival Alpha—hybrid scent challenges his dominance. He'll target you first, ignore others until you're dead or disabled."
"Wonderful."
"It's tactical advantage. His focus on you creates openings." Alexander's expression carried something that might have been respect. "Your Enhanced Reflexes should let you dodge his charges. Your Enhanced Strength can match his in grappling. And your regeneration..." He trailed off. "Try not to test it against his teeth."
I moved to center position, fifty meters from the prison doors. Viktor's sword felt comfortable in my grip—the weapon that had killed its original owner, now wielded against something far older and more dangerous.
[ HYBRID TRANSFORMATION: ACTIVE ]
[ BP DRAIN: 1/HOUR ]
[ CURRENT BP: 1,930/1000 ]
The transformation rippled through my body—black-and-silver form manifesting, claws extending, senses sharpening to supernatural focus. Enhanced Reflexes Lv.9 made the world seem to slow slightly, perception expanding to track multiple threats simultaneously.
Selene's voice crackled through the radio. "In position. Clear sightlines to the door."
Michael reported next. "Left flank. Ready."
Alexander drew his ancient sword—blade inscribed with symbols I didn't recognize, silver edge gleaming in the moonlight. "When you're ready."
I approached the door alone.
The lock mechanism was exactly as Tanis had described—moon-shaped indent designed to accept Sonja's pendant. The metalwork was extraordinary even after eight centuries, gears and counterweights visible through gaps in the stone facade. Selene's father had been a master architect, building something that would endure far beyond his own lifetime.
Building his own tomb, though he hadn't known it at the time.
The pendant slid into the lock perfectly.
Gears ground against eight hundred years of rust. Mechanisms clicked and whirred, counterweights shifting, the massive door beginning its slow swing inward. The sound echoed across the mountain—metal screaming protest, stone grinding against stone.
Inside: darkness. Absolute, complete, impenetrable even to Enhanced Senses.
And underneath the darkness, something else. Low growling that built to a roar. The sound of chains straining, snapping, falling away. The wet slap of something massive hitting stone floor.
William's voice—if it could be called voice—erupted from the prison.
Inhuman shriek mixed with wolf howl. Eight hundred years of isolation and rage compressed into sound that made the mountain itself seem to tremble. No words, no meaning, just pure expression of hatred given acoustic form.
The door finished opening.
For one eternal second, nothing moved.
Then William exploded from the darkness.
[ WILLIAM CORVINUS - WEREWOLF PROGENITOR - 687 BP ]
[ STATUS: ENGAGED. HUNTING. MINDLESS. ]
He was massive—twelve feet of muscle and fur and claws, moving at speeds that exceeded anything I'd witnessed from Lycan or vampire. Enhanced Reflexes Lv.9 barely tracked his acceleration, perception struggling to process movement that happened in fractions of seconds.
No intelligence in his eyes. No recognition, no assessment, no hesitation. Just hunger and hatred, eight centuries of accumulated madness focused on a single purpose.
Killing everything in reach.
He charged me.
Seventy miles per hour of werewolf progenitor, jaws wide, teeth designed to crush stone and shatter bone. I dodged—Enhanced Reflexes making the movement possible, hybrid body twisting aside as he passed within inches.
William overshot, crashed into a rock formation, shattered a boulder that probably weighed three tons.
No damage. He rolled upright immediately, already turning for another charge.
Selene's rifle cracked three times. Silver rounds punched into William's skull—headshots that would have killed any normal Lycan, that would have dropped even an Alpha in seconds.
William's head absorbed the bullets. Holes appeared, blood sprayed, brain matter leaked.
He regenerated in two seconds.
The wounds closed, the bullets pushed out, the skull reformed around new tissue that grew faster than I could track.
Michael's voice carried across the killzone. "We're supposed to kill that?"
I didn't have time to answer. William charged again.
This time I didn't dodge.
Enhanced Strength Lv.11 met werewolf progenitor head-on. Our collision sent shockwaves through the mountain, cracking the frozen ground beneath us, the impact audible probably for miles.
Hybrid claws versus ancient claws. My strength against his. Locked in grappling combat that tested every enhancement the System had provided.
William's jaws snapped toward my throat—inches away, drool and rage, teeth that had killed thousands across eight centuries. I headbutted his snout, hybrid skull meeting werewolf bone, fracturing his nasal structure.
He regenerated instantly.
Alexander attacked from the right, ancient sword slashing William's leg. The silver blade cut deep—muscle and tendon parting, silver poisoning beginning its slow burn through Lycan flesh.
William barely noticed. His focus remained locked on me.
Selene fired coordinated shots—silver rounds targeting his eyes, blinding him temporarily. Michael transformed fully, hybrid form less controlled than mine but powerful, claws raking William's flank from the left.
Four against one.
It wasn't enough.
William threw me forty feet. I crashed into the mountainside, stone crumbling around me, ribs screaming protest despite hybrid durability.
He swept Alexander off his feet with a spine extension I hadn't expected—adaptation from centuries of isolation, his body evolving even in imprisonment.
His jaws found Michael's shoulder. Fangs pierced hybrid flesh, Michael's scream echoing across the mountain.
Selene's voice: "It's not working! He's too strong!"
I rose from the crater my impact had created. Ribs healing, already. Regeneration Lv.7 earning its BP cost.
"Then we change tactics," I called. "Stop trying to kill him—cripple him first!"
[ TACTICAL ANALYSIS: WILLIAM CORVINUS ]
[ REGENERATION: EXCEEDS NORMAL PARAMETERS ]
[ VULNERABILITY: MOBILITY TARGETING RECOMMENDED ]
[ REVISED STRATEGY: HAMSTRING, THEN EXECUTE ]
The battle had only begun.
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