Terra Aeterna: The Rise of Humanity's War Machine

As the elevator descends slowly, a heavy pounding echoes from outside—the sound of metal being relentlessly struck. The Lycans are clearly trying to break in through the elevator doors. Faint growls accompany the thuds, creating a nerve-wracking tension that seeps into every corner of the cramped space.

Inside the tight elevator, Michael paces in panic, breathing heavily, eyes darting as if searching for an escape that doesn't exist. Kenthelion glances briefly at him, then calmly reaches into a tactical pouch at his waist and pulls out a specialized syringe—an advanced device crafted by the Imperium Caelestis's scientists on Terra Aeterna. Kenthelion always carries it when exploring other universes, designed specifically for sampling rare or exotic biological specimens.

Without a word, Kenthelion presses the syringe against Michael's shoulder and injects it.

Michael: "What are you—ARGHH! Stop! That… it hurts!"

Michael struggles fiercely, his body tensing, but in an instant Kenthelion places a knee on his chest. The weight is inhuman, as if pinned by an armored vehicle. Michael's breath catches, his face reddening, breaths rattling in his throat.

"This creature… is not human," Michael thinks in horror.

Beside them, Selene can only watch, torn between wanting to stop Kenthelion or staying alert for the threat outside.

Michael writhes in pain, but Kenthelion remains composed, drawing the first vial of blood as a battlefield medic would—efficient, swift, emotionless. He swaps in a second vial, his left hand holding Michael down to prevent any movement.

Suddenly, Selene slaps Kenthelion's shoulder sharply. He turns.

Kenthelion: "What is it?"

Selene: "You intend to kill him?! Look at his face! He could pass out—or worse!"

Her tone carries sharp concern. Kenthelion frowns slightly, then looks down at Michael. The young man now lies pale, sweat glistening on his brow, his breathing weakening.

Yet something else catches Kenthelion's attention.

Michael's gaze drifts to Selene, and for a fleeting moment in his eyes, Kenthelion sees hope.

"Is he… important to her?" Kenthelion wonders. A narrative effect? A hero–heroine bond? But this feels more… genuine.

Kenthelion: "Relax. He won't die. I need his blood, not his life."

His voice is flat and cold, yet there's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He finishes the second vial quickly and withdraws the needle.

"Ding." The elevator chime sounds, signaling the doors will open imminently.

Kenthelion stands as if nothing has happened, tucking the blood vials into a sterile container on his belt. Michael remains on the floor, gasping, clutching his shoulder.

When the elevator doors slide open, Kenthelion offers only a faint smile.

Exactly as he anticipated—standing in the doorway is a tall, battle-worn man in a torn black cloak: Lucian, leader of the Lycans. His yellow eyes blaze as he fixes his gaze on them.

Selene reacts faster than a shadow. Two firearms raise simultaneously, and loud blasts ring out in the narrow corridor. Silver-flecked bullets fly like a rain of metal, piercing Lucian's chest and abdomen with precision.

Yet the man does not stop. No cry escapes him. His body continues forward, riddled with holes, but his stride remains steady. His eyes stay sharp, as if the bullets are nothing but a minor annoyance.

Selene's face turns ashen. Normally, even the strongest Lycan falls after two or three shots. But Lucian? He still moves. Still alive. And more terrifyingly—he shows no sign of pain.

Selene backs up, but the corridor is narrow. The cold elevator wall presses against her back. There is no escape.

Then… "BUGH!" A thunderous impact shakes the air. In a fraction of a second, Lucian's body is lifted and slammed into the opposite wall like a broken puppet. Concrete cracks, dust showers down.

Selene turns. Kenthelion stands before her, still in the follow-through of a powerful kick. His single blow was enough to force Lucian to spit blood.

Without a word, Kenthelion bends down, scoops Michael from the floor, and casts a sly smile in Selene's direction.

Kenthelion: "Come on, darling. Enjoying the show?"

Selene remains speechless, eyes fixed on the man who just dispatched Lucian with one move. That is not human strength; even vampires need a struggle to fell a Lycan like Lucian.

She wants to question him—but her tongue fails her.

Without further ceremony, Kenthelion lifts Michael as though he were a heavy suitcase. The trunk of a black Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat opens with a mechanical click, and Kenthelion tosses Michael inside without warning. The engine roars to life like a beast awakened from a long slumber.

Selene slides into the passenger seat. Kenthelion sits beside her and floors the accelerator. The car surges forward, slicing through the city shadows now grown darker with night.

---

Behind them, Lucian slowly rises from the rubble. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth. His breath is labored. Bones are broken, and a burning ache courses through him. Yet this pain is nothing compared to the single question echoing in his mind:

"Who is that man?"

"And why… am I afraid of him?"

For the first time in his life, Lucian chooses not to pursue.

---

Inside the car, tension hangs heavy. Selene keeps glancing at Kenthelion—not out of affection but a mix of curiosity and unease. She doesn't like him. Yet… she can't look away.

Kenthelion glances at her and grins.

Kenthelion: "Why are you staring at me like that? Don't tell me… you've fallen for me? Or… you're just dazzled by my good looks?"

Selene: "Staring at you? I'm just trying to understand who you really are."

Kenthelion: "Me? Just a regular human, unemployed, and… hmm… rather fond of tormenting Lycans."

Selene: "If you're a regular human, then… what are we?"

Kenthelion's grin widens.

Kenthelion: "Monsters. Obviously. But that doesn't mean humans can't be more dangerous."

His tone is light. But Selene knows he's not joking. His eyes… too deep. Too silent. Too full of secrets.

Selene (annoyed): "Quiet. And stop talking."

Kenthelion: "Alright, my wife Selene."

"But as I said at Michael's place: your enemy isn't the Lycans. Not Lucian. But Viktor."

He turns to look at her directly.

Kenthelion: "He's the one who killed your family. No one else."

Those words chill the air inside the car.

Kenthelion glances at her briefly—his face calm, expressionless. Yet behind that blank gaze lies something undefinable, like an ancient secret too deep to reach.

His face… beautiful, cold, untouched. Like a statue of a god from another world, surveying the mortal realm without true concern.

Selene looks away with a piercing glare.

Selene: "I will verify the truth of your words," she says coldly. "If you lie… I will kill you."

Her eyes narrow, lips pursed—a sign that emotions are rising to the surface. "And I am not your wife. We just met, you idiot."

Selene's fist clenches on her thigh, as if the only thing holding her from exploding is the iron will that has kept her alive for six centuries.

Kenthelion offers no reply. He only smiles faintly—like morning mist, almost imperceptible. He stops the car at a red light, his gaze sweeping the city shrouded in gray fog. As if this city has long forgotten the warmth of sunlight.

Then…

Brakk! A loud crash shatters the silence. The trunk bursts open, and Michael staggers out—half-conscious, wounded arm still bleeding, face pale as death. With his remaining strength, he jumps down and flees into the street.

Selene reflexively glances back but does not chase.

She takes a slow, steady breath, murmuring bitterly, "Let him go. He'll come back… if he's still alive."

A few seconds of silence pass before she turns to Kenthelion.

Selene: "Michael got away... aren't you going after him?"

Kenthelion shrugs casually, still looking ahead. "Why? Let him run. Whether he lives or dies… it's not that important."

Yet his eyes flick briefly toward Michael's distant silhouette. "But his blood… could make you more powerful. Maybe even… immune to sunlight."

Selene stiffens. Her expression shifts from anger to wary curiosity.

Selene (whispering): "What you say... is that true?"

She doesn't realize she's been holding her breath since hearing those words.

Meanwhile, Michael—now just a silhouette in the distance—continues to run, limping, glancing back once. His last look seems to plead… or perhaps accuse. But his blood, the experimental dose Kenthelion injected, still drips—leaving a faint trail on the cold asphalt.

Kenthelion glances at Selene again. "If you go after him now, you can still catch him."

Selene hisses softly. "I'm a vampire. We don't drink blood from living humans."

Her tone is firm, principled. Yet her eyes remain on Kenthelion, as if waiting for a reason to pull the trigger.

She narrows her gaze. "You started the teasing. Should I drink your blood?"

Kenthelion chuckles lightly, almost mockingly. "That won't work. You know it yourself."

Then, in a softer yet dangerous tone, he adds, "Besides… you're my wife. Why bite your husband?"

Before Selene can fully process, Kenthelion leans in and kisses her—calmly, gently, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Selene freezes.

Her body seems to lose control, her blue eyes widening. Six centuries she's lived… and not a single kiss has ever touched her lips like this. Not calmly, not with such a human impression.

Her vampire blood stirs—not with anger.

Her heart races. This is impossible, she thinks. What's happening to me?

Instinctively, Selene pushes Kenthelion away with full force and draws her pistol. The cold barrel now presses against his temple—her hand unshakable.

Selene: "Bastard. How dare you touch me... Aren't you afraid I'll destroy you?"

Kenthelion remains unfazed, almost smiling.

Kenthelion: "I called you my wife. You can't kill your own husband… can you, my wife?"

His words sound so light, as if fear never existed in his world.

Selene: "Damn you… You must not call me your wife," she growls, teeth clenched. Her voice is cold, but there's a spark in her gaze. Her body remains still, resolute. No wasted movement.

Kenthelion: "A good wife. Now I'm even more convinced you are my wife."

His tone is playful, teasing—as if the world could burn and he wouldn't care.

"As the saying goes… if a woman doesn't love herself, let her act cold."

Selene: "You truly have no shame."

She turns her face away, refusing to look longer at the man who keeps unsettling her. Yet oddly, she does not leave.

Kenthelion: "Thank you for the compliment, my wife~"

Silence. The atmosphere grows heavy, tense.

Suddenly, Selene spins around. Her eyes razor-sharp.

Selene: "Get out of the car. Go."

Kenthelion: "You tell me to leave, my beautiful wife? But I have no destination… except by your side."

Selene (raising her voice): "Get out of here! I don't want to see you again!"

Kenthelion chuckles softly. He can sense Selene's patience wearing thin.

Kenthelion: "Alright, alright… I'll go, I'll go." He raises both hands, feigning surrender. In his mind, he knows… if he stays one second longer, his head might be a bullet away.

With a light movement, Kenthelion hops out of the car. Selene slams the door shut with a thud and speeds off—without another word.

The car races away and vanishes around a corner, leaving Kenthelion standing alone at the roadside. The night wind tousles his disheveled hair, carrying the chill of a sleeping city.

Kenthelion (smiling faintly): "Well… sending her away isn't the worst thing."

In truth, he deliberately let her leave. There is business… that can't be done if Selene stays by his side.

Kenthelion gazes at the night sky briefly before looking down at his wristwatch. With a light tap, a holographic projection appears—the image of a little red-haired girl in a doll-like dress, her eyes glowing with artificial intelligence.

Kenthelion: "Red Queen, has Alexander been located?"

Red Queen (cheerfully): "He has been found, Brother."

Kenthelion nods slowly, his eyes gleaming with calm calculation.

Kenthelion: "Then let us meet him first. We'll see if he is wise enough to cooperate with us."

Without further verbal command, Red Queen accesses the military command network in orbit. In the skies above the atmosphere, Terran Dominator-class battlecruisers begin to mobilize. Dozens of Medivacs and fully armed Marines deploy in silent siege formation.

Within minutes, the region where Alexander Corvinus resides is surrounded. All external communication channels are cut. No signal in or out.

Kenthelion knows that to meet a being of Alexander Corvinus's caliber—an immortal considered myth even among other Immortals—requires more than good intentions and polite words.

He needs power.

Without it, even approaching would be seen as a threat.

Kenthelion smiles faintly. His steps are steady, assured, like a man who knows he carries more than mere words of peace.

He wields authority.

And tonight… he will speak with the eternal king.