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Raphael raised his hand.
The Force surged. The two heavily armed guards were violently ripped off the deck, their throats seized by an invisible, crushing grip. They thrashed wildly, their assault rifles slipping from their hands as their boots kicked helplessly at the empty air.
Raphael curled his fingers into a tight fist.
Crack.
The sickening sound of snapping cervical spines echoed simultaneously.
The two corpses dropped to the steel deck like dead weight.
Selene shot him a look.
"That's the Force?"
"Works well enough on humans."
For the next ten minutes, they tore through the ship with absolutely zero resistance.
Raphael pushed his Force perception to the absolute limit. Not a single mercenary hiding in the lower decks could escape his radar.
If they ran into a straggler, Raphael immediately crushed their windpipe with a Force Choke. If they hit a squad, he'd blast them off their feet with a heavy Force Push, and Selene would ruthlessly finish them off.
No gunshots. No alarms.
By the time they kicked open the heavy door to the captain's quarters, they had left over forty butchered corpses in their wake.
Inside the cabin, a white-haired old man sat on a leather sofa by the window, calmly swirling a glass of red wine.
Alexander Corvinus.
He looked up at the two of them walking in, his gaze completely undisturbed.
"You slaughtered my guards."
"Yeah," Raphael said casually.
Alexander nodded slowly, shifting his eyes to Selene.
"Death Dealer."
"I've seen portraits of you," he said. "The child Viktor raised."
Selene didn't say a word.
Alexander looked back at Raphael.
"You aren't from this world."
"Right."
"You possess some sort of... bizarre power."
Alexander frowned slightly. "What exactly is it?"
Raphael completely ignored the question and cut straight to the chase.
"Marcus is dead. Viktor is dead, too. I killed them."
Alexander's hand froze.
The dark red wine in his glass trembled slightly.
His expression shifted.
It wasn't grief. It wasn't unhinged rage. It was an incredibly restrained, suffocatingly cold intensity.
"I know," he said softly. "I knew three days ago."
He set the wine glass down and stood up tall.
"Marcus was my son."
His voice was still level, but Raphael could feel the violent, lethal undercurrent beneath the calm. "William was too. I watched helplessly as they mutated into monsters. I watched them slaughter each other. I watched them get imprisoned and hunted down. I never intervened, because that was their destiny."
He locked eyes with Selene.
"But you—" His gaze turned razor-sharp. "You could have just killed Viktor. Marcus was hibernating. He had absolutely no feud with you."
"He's an Elder," Selene countered icily. "As long as he draws breath, the blood war between our kind and the Lycans will never end."
Alexander stayed silent for a few agonizing seconds.
Then, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Then I suppose there's nothing left to discuss."
His hand slammed down on a panic button embedded in the desk.
Blaring klaxons instantly ripped through the massive oil tanker.
The cabin doors were kicked open, and over a dozen heavily armored mercenaries flooded into the room, leveling their automatic rifles right at Raphael and Selene.
"Kill them," Alexander ordered.
The guns erupted in a deafening roar.
But not a single piece of lead hit its mark.
Raphael raised his hand. A massive, kinetic Force barrier flared out in front of them, catching the hailstorm of bullets in mid-air. Dozens of rounds hung suspended, completely frozen in space.
The mercenaries' faces locked in absolute, paralyzing shock.
Raphael casually flicked his wrist.
The bullets violently reversed course.
Thwack, thwack, thwack—
Over a dozen bodies collapsed to the floor simultaneously, painting the cabin walls in a thick spray of crimson.
The color completely drained from Alexander's face.
He took a quick, desperate step back, reaching frantically for a desk drawer—
Selene was already moving.
She tore across the cabin like a streak of black lightning. Her blade flashed, cleanly severing Alexander's outstretched hand right at the wrist.
The severed hand hit the rug, its fingers still violently twitching.
Alexander let out a muffled grunt of agony, clutching his bleeding stump as hot blood pumped onto the floor.
Selene didn't hesitate for a microsecond.
She grabbed him by the hair, violently jerking his head back to expose his throat, and sank her fangs deep into his flesh.
Hot blood flooded down her throat.
In that exact instant, Selene's entire body locked up, completely rigid.
The blood of the first Immortal.
Infinitely older, purer, and vastly more powerful than Viktor's corrupted strain.
She could feel every single cell in her body violently boiling, eagerly devouring the rushing bloodline.
Raw power hit her like a tidal wave, scouring through her veins and ruthlessly forging her bone density into something completely new.
Alexander struggled, but his physical strength was rapidly bleeding out.
Nearly a minute later, Selene finally pulled back, wiping her mouth.
Alexander collapsed into a heap on the floor, his face as pale as a sheet of paper. But he was still breathing—it took a hell of a lot more than that to kill a true Immortal.
Selene stood up tall.
Her eyes burned with a terrifying, piercing brilliance, faint traces of liquid silver swirling deep within her pupils.
Her skin had gone terrifyingly pale, almost translucent, yet radiating a faint, ethereal glow.
She looked down at her hands.
She slowly curled her fingers into a tight fist.
She could feel the monstrous, explosive power surging through her body, roaring like a violent riptide beneath a frozen sea.
"Is this enough?" she asked Raphael.
Raphael shook his head.
"Not yet. There's one final step."
He glanced down at Alexander bleeding out on the rug.
"You want to finish him off before we leave?"
Selene stared down at the once-untouchable Immortal.
"Let him live."
"Let him live long enough to watch me completely tear down the empire his sons built," she said coldly.
Raphael raised an eyebrow.
"Your call."
The two of them turned their backs and walked out.
Behind them, Alexander's ragged breathing grew weaker, but he clung to life.
The tanker's alarms were still screaming, but there wasn't a single soul left alive to stop them.
---
Nordic Coven.
Deep in the brutal, snow-capped mountains of Norway.
It was a dead zone, completely suffocated by eternal winter and miles from any human civilization.
But nested right in the heart of the frozen peaks sat an ancient, imposing fortress forged from massive blocks of black obsidian.
Raphael and Selene arrived at dusk on the third day.
The heavy fortress doors were wide open, as if actively anticipating their arrival.
Beyond the threshold stretched a cavernous stone corridor. Torches flared to life automatically along the walls, guiding their path deep into the mountain.
At the end of the hall opened up a massive circular chamber. In the very center, over a dozen women draped in heavy white robes sat completely motionless in a perfect circle.
Leading them was the High Priestess, her gaze as sharp and lethal as a hawk's.
She looked at Selene walking in, then shifted her eyes to Raphael.
"The Death Dealer," the High Priestess said, her tone dripping with profound meaning. "The executioner of two Elders."
Selene didn't bother denying it.
"I need your help."
The ancient witch stood up and slowly walked toward her.
"You carry the blood of the first Immortal. Alexander's bloodline runs through your veins."
"I do."
"It is not enough."
The High Priestess shook her head. "The Immortal's blood makes you powerful, but it does not make you complete. You require the ritual."
Selene stared at her.
"What kind of ritual?"
The High Priestess didn't answer directly.
She turned her sharp gaze to Raphael.
"Outsider. You have guided her to the path."
Raphael nodded.
The Priestess looked back at Selene.
"Are you prepared to face the final trial?"
"What trial?"
"The absolute embrace of death."
"Only true death can unlock your ultimate potential and reconstruct your physical form," she explained coldly. "But the agony you will endure is far more terrifying than simply dying. If you survive it—you will become the new Progenitor."
Selene stayed silent for exactly three seconds.
"Let's begin."
The ritual commenced at the stroke of midnight.
Stripped completely bare, Selene lay in the center of a freezing stone pool. Her body was tightly wrapped in ritualistic bindings before she was slowly submerged into the icy, pitch-black water.
Her body began to violently convulse.
It wasn't out of fear. It was sheer, unadulterated agony.
The pain erupted from the deepest marrow of her bones, feeling like thousands of jagged blades shredding her insides, like liquid hellfire actively boiling through her veins.
Her nails dug so viciously into her own palms that dark blood welled up and dripped into the pool.
But she didn't make a single sound.
Not a scream. Not even a whimper.
She just locked her jaw, aggressively grinding her teeth together as she let the torturous pain incinerate every single inch of her flesh and blood.
Raphael stood in the shadows at the edge of the chamber, watching in total silence.
He could literally feel the atmospheric power coalescing in the room—a freezing, suffocatingly dark, yet terrifyingly pure force of death.
It was the absolute power of the Moon Goddess.
Three brutal hours later.
Selene broke the surface of the water.
Her eyes radiated a blinding, brilliant silver light, looking as if liquid moonlight was physically swirling within her pupils. The roots of her dark hair had mutated into a striking, icy silver. Her skin was so flawlessly pale it was almost translucent, casting off a faint, divine halo.
Selene tilted her head up and locked eyes with Raphael.
There was no more hatred or lingering confusion in her gaze. There was only a terrifyingly calm, absolute sense of supremacy.
"Thank you."
Raphael offered a slow smile.
"Don't mention it."
Every single member of the witch coven immediately dropped to their knees, bowing their heads to the cold stone floor.
"Goddess of the Moon,"
The High Priestess whispered with absolute reverence. "The new Queen of the Damned."
Selene didn't say a word to them.
She kept her glowing eyes locked entirely on Raphael.
She could feel it.
His time left in this universe was rapidly running out.
That night, Selene didn't let Raphael walk away.
They retreated to a secluded stone chamber deep within the fortress, a private sanctuary prepared by the witches.
A heavy fire roared in the massive hearth, beating back the brutal, freezing chill of the Nordic winter.
Vampires were inherently cold-blooded creatures, utterly immune to the freezing temperatures. But Raphael hadn't quite evolved to the point of completely ignoring sub-zero weather yet.
Selene sat on the edge of the heavy fur-lined bed, watching him.
"You're leaving."
Raphael nodded.
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning. I can physically feel this universe actively trying to push me out."
Selene stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then, she stood up and walked smoothly toward him.
"Then I suppose I'll have to be quick."
Before Raphael could even process the move, she violently shoved him backward onto the mattress.
Her icy, silver-streaked hair fell forward like a heavy curtain, completely boxing out his vision of the rest of the room.
Those glowing, silver-white eyes burned in the dim light, looking like twin full moons.
"Don't talk," she whispered.
Raphael didn't move a muscle.
She leaned down and aggressively captured his lips in a bruising, demanding kiss. An intensely electric, freezing chill immediately washed over him.
The night stretched on, consumed by a feral, intoxicating heat that clashed violently against the freezing perfection of her skin.
Right before dawn broke, Selene lay draped across his bare chest, silently listening to the heavy, steady thud of his heartbeat.
"I left something with you," she murmured softly.
Raphael looked down at her.
"What?"
"A tether."
Selene stared up at him, her gaze completely unblinking. "No matter what universe you step into, no matter how impossibly far apart we are, you will be able to feel me. And I will always be able to feel you."
Raphael hesitated for a split second.
"Are you absolutely sure about that?"
"I'm sure."
A slow, breathtaking smile spread across her face.
It was the very first time Raphael had seen her genuinely smile—it wasn't a cold smirk, and it wasn't a mocking sneer. It was something incredibly tender, fiercely absolute, and heavily laced with dark anticipation.
"Wait for me," she whispered. "We will see each other again."
Raphael looked deep into her silver eyes.
"Alright."
The very next second, his entire reality violently spun out of control.
Raphael snapped his eyes open.
The bright, blinding morning sun of Los Angeles was already bleeding through his bedroom window. The familiar, low-level roar of the city traffic hummed outside.
He was lying flat on his back in his own bed, wearing the exact same grey t-shirt he had fallen asleep in, perfectly tucked under a thin blanket.
Everything was exactly the way he had left it.
It was as if the brutal, blood-soaked days of slaughter and running in that gothic nightmare had never actually happened.
Raphael slowly sat up against the headboard.
He stared down at his hands—completely clean. No bruised knuckles. No blood.
He reached a hand up to his shoulder.
The deep gash that Selene had tasted in the pouring rain was completely gone. Not even a scar.
Raphael looked up at the warm, golden California sun streaming through the glass.
But deep down, he couldn't shake the visceral, unshakable feeling that somewhere, out across the infinite void of the multiverse, a pair of glowing silver eyes was actively watching him.
He mentally summoned his system panel. But after one glance at the astronomical buyout price for a Vampire Queen's abilities, he realized he either couldn't afford it... or he was simply terrified of actually pulling the trigger.