Chapter 13: The Probation's End
Lucius
The Grand Salon had been transformed for ceremony.
Candles lined every surface—hundreds of them, casting amber light across velvet and stone. The usual decadent lounging had been replaced by formal arrangement: vampires standing in ranked rows, oldest at the front, fledglings pressed against the walls. Everyone watching the four figures kneeling before Kraven's throne.
I was one of them.
The stone floor was cold against my knees. Two weeks of probation, sixteen Lycan kills, one Alpha corpse. The numbers meant something here. The numbers meant everything.
Soren stood beside Kraven's throne, reading from a leather-bound ledger. His voice carried through the silent hall with military precision.
"Candidate Marcus Thorne. Seven confirmed kills. Territory: District IV. Status: Permanent Death Dealer, approved."
The vampire to my left stood, received his silver badge, retreated to the ranks. Applause rippled through the assembly—polite, measured, forgettable.
"Candidate Elena Voss. Five confirmed kills. Territory: District XII. Status: Permanent Death Dealer, approved."
Another standing. Another badge. Another round of applause.
"Candidate Lucius Vane."
The silence changed. Sharpened. I felt eyes focusing with new intensity.
"Sixteen confirmed Lycan kills." Soren's voice carried a note of something—respect, maybe, or disbelief. "Including Alpha Raze of the District VII pack. Zero casualties to allied forces. Territory: District VII. Status..."
He glanced at Kraven. The Regent nodded.
"Permanent Death Dealer, approved. With commendation."
The applause was louder this time. Some genuine—Rigel, standing near the front, clapping with obvious pride. Some jealous—other Death Dealers whose years of service hadn't earned the recognition I'd claimed in two weeks. Some calculating—Kraven himself, watching me with the expression of a man evaluating an investment.
I stood. Received the silver badge—heavier than the iron one, inscribed with Viktor's seal. Let my fingers close around the metal, feeling its weight.
[ STATUS UPDATED: PERMANENT DEATH DEALER (RANK 1) ]
[ MONTHLY STIPEND ACTIVATED: 200 BP/MONTH ]
[ PRIVATE QUARTERS ASSIGNED ]
The stipend was unexpected. Two hundred BP monthly, drawn from the coven's reserves. Not enough to matter for major upgrades, but significant for a fledgling. Kraven was investing in me—building loyalty through resources.
"Or building a leash."
The ceremony continued. The fourth candidate received his badge. Soren concluded with a recitation of the Death Dealer oath, voices rising in unison.
"My blood for the coven. My death for the Elders. My blade for the war eternal."
The words tasted different now. Less binding. More hollow.
Kraven rose from his throne as the assembly began to disperse. His gesture was subtle—a finger crook, an expectant look. Private audience requested.
I followed him through a side passage, away from the crowd.
His office occupied one of Ördögház's upper floors—windows overlooking the Danube, furniture that probably cost more than most humans earned in a lifetime. Oil paintings lined the walls, depicting hunts and battles spanning centuries.
"Close the door."
I closed it. Kraven settled behind his desk, pouring blood wine from a crystal decanter. He didn't offer me any.
"Sixteen kills in two weeks. Raze himself." He swirled the glass, watching light play through the liquid. "You've exceeded every expectation I had for you."
"I aim to serve the coven."
"Yes. The coven." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I have a new assignment for you. One that requires... discretion."
[ QUEST OFFERED: INVESTIGATE UV AMMUNITION SOURCE ]
[ REWARD: INCREASED STANDING WITH KRAVEN, INFORMATION ACCESS ]
[ NOTE: THIS QUEST LEADS TO CANON PLOT DISCOVERY ]
I kept my expression neutral as the notification scrolled. The system was flagging this as significant—the thread that would eventually lead to Singe's laboratory, the hybrid experiments, Michael Corvin.
"The riverside docks," Kraven continued. "Major smuggling route. Lycans have been using it to move weapons, supplies, ammunition we've never seen before. UV rounds that burn like sunlight." He set down his glass. "I want you to find where they're getting them. The source. The manufacturer. Everything."
"Reconnaissance only? Or elimination?"
"Information first. We can't destroy what we don't understand." He leaned forward, hands folded on the desk. "You'll report to me directly. Not Soren. Not Viktor. Me."
The emphasis was deliberate. Kraven was building his own network of agents—Death Dealers who answered to the Regent rather than the sleeping Elders. When Viktor woke, he'd find Kraven's fingers in every pie.
"Understood."
"Good. Start tonight. Take whatever supplies you need from the armory." He returned to his wine, dismissing me. "Don't disappoint me, Vane."
The corridor outside his office was empty. I moved through Ördögház's upper levels, mapping routes, noting guard positions, cataloging details that might prove useful later.
A figure stepped from a shadowed alcove.
Selene.
[ SELENE - 178 BP ]
[ STATUS: ALERT. PURPOSEFUL. ]
She'd been waiting. Specifically for me.
"Walk with me."
Not a request. I fell into step beside her, matching her pace as she navigated corridors I hadn't explored yet. Her movement was economical—no wasted energy, no unnecessary gestures. Six hundred years had stripped everything from her except efficiency.
"Kraven gave you the docks assignment."
"Word travels fast."
"I was outside his door." She didn't elaborate. "The docks investigation is dangerous. Lycans have established significant presence there. Death Dealers have died trying to map their operations."
"I've survived dangerous before."
"Surviving Raze was luck as much as skill." She stopped at a window overlooking the mansion's interior courtyard. Moonlight painted her face in silver and shadow. "Kraven is making you his creature. Building you into something he can control."
"I'm aware."
"Are you?" She turned, studying me with eyes that had watched empires fall. "Regents die when Elders wake. Viktor sleeps now, but in three weeks, he'll rise. Everything Kraven has built—his alliances, his agents, his schemes—Viktor will dismantle in days. Anyone too closely tied to the Regent becomes... expendable."
The warning was genuine. Charisma Lv.1 let me read the subtle tension in her jaw, the flicker of concern she was trying to hide. She wasn't protecting Kraven's investment.
She was protecting me.
"I just hunt Lycans," I said carefully. "Politics are beyond me."
Selene almost smiled. The expression was foreign on her face—a muscle memory from centuries past, briefly resurrected.
"No one who asks dangerous questions is beyond politics." She resumed walking, and I followed. "Watch yourself, Butcher. The coven needs killers who can think. Don't let Kraven use you up before Viktor wakes."
She disappeared around a corner before I could respond.
[ SELENE RELATIONSHIP: PROTECTIVE CONCERN (35/100) ]
Thirty-five points. She'd initiated contact. She'd warned me about Kraven. She'd admitted the coven needed me.
Progress.
My new chamber waited on the mansion's third floor—private, spacious by fledgling standards. An actual bed with actual sheets. A window with steel shutters. A weapon rack mounted on the wall.
I closed the door, engaged the lock, and let myself breathe.
Two weeks ago, I'd been a starving fledgling hiding in sewers. Now I had permanent status, a monthly income, and Selene's concern. The foundation was building faster than expected.
[ CURRENT BP: 673 + 200 STIPEND = 873/1000 ]
[ GENE TREES: VAMPIRE (TIER 1 ACTIVE), LYCAN (PARTIAL ACCESS) ]
Raze's blood had unlocked the Lycan gene tree—partial access, enough to explore options I couldn't use before. The hybrid path was opening.
I spent carefully, honoring the seventy-two-hour cooldown between major purchases.
[ ENHANCED STRENGTH LV.3: 80 BP ]
[ LYCAN PARTIAL TRANSFORMATION LV.1: 150 BP ]
[ - ABILITY: MANIFEST CLAWS WITHOUT FULL TRANSFORMATION ]
[ - ABILITY: ENHANCED SMELL/HEARING (LYCAN SPECTRUM) ]
[ - NOTE: PARTIAL TRANSFORMATION MAY BE DETECTED BY FULL LYCANS AT CLOSE RANGE ]
[ TOTAL SPENT: 230 BP ]
[ REMAINING: 643 BP ]
The transformation began.
Fire in my bones. Muscles cramping, reshaping, growing denser. My hands burned as something shifted beneath the skin—potential waiting to emerge. Lycan genetic material integrating with vampire biology, creating something neither species had seen before.
I gritted my teeth through the worst of it. Thirty seconds. Sixty. Ninety.
When it ended, I tested the new abilities. Claws extended from my fingertips—black, curved, sharp enough to gouge stone. Lycan claws on vampire hands. My hearing sharpened, catching conversations three floors down. Smells I'd never noticed before flooded my awareness—blood, dust, fear, desire.
Tomorrow, the docks.
Tomorrow, canon began unraveling.
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