Crossover: Monthly Character Templates in the Multiverse Chat Group — Chapter 79

Chapter 79: Lord of Wolves? Just Fuel

Rain lashed against the steel plating of Montloup’s core sector. By the time Theresis stepped through the shattered blast doors, the battle was already over. Wiš’adel and her mercenary squad had reduced the elite guards—the so-called Mouth of the Giant Wolf—to charred, unrecognizable heaps. Amidst the lingering smoke of her signature explosives, the Dawn of Bursting, the air reeked of ozone and burnt flesh.

Wiš’adel leaned against a scorched pillar, idly tossing a detonator in the air. “Frez called it. These guys were pathetic.” She caught the device and shot a sidelong glance at the Sarkaz General. “Took your time, Theresis.”

Theresis ignored the jab, his heavy boots crunching over the debris. He tossed a metallic cylinder toward her—the primary control key for the nomadic city’s engine. The secondary key was still en route. “Securing the override codes required some effort. Where is Lord Frez?”

“Off hunting the local fauna.” Wiš’adel shrugged, catching the key. “Said he had some Lords of Wolves to deal with. Who knows? The guy vanishes faster than a blown fuse.”

Thunder rattled the high-vaulted ceiling. Outside, the torrential downpour showed zero signs of letting up.

A shadow dropped from the open skylight above. Niezlei landed in a crouch, the soaked cloth wrappings around his body dripping rainwater onto the dry metallic floor.

“Montloup is completely dark,” Niezlei reported, his voice flat and professional over the storm’s roar. “Television, radio, and print media are secured. The intercity network is jammed, and all entry and exit vectors are barricaded. The city is ours.”

Theresis crossed his arms. “And the Families?”

“They lack any concept of true warfare.” Niezlei flicked a wet strand of hair from his face. “Their gang violence amounts to street brawls and petty turf disputes. The cleanup crews are already sweeping the streets.”

To the Sarkaz forces, the Siracusan mafias were barely a speed bump. They were just future corpses paving the road for Kazdel’s march. The resisting factions had been slaughtered. Those who surrendered were locked down. Nobody was leaving Montloup alive without their permission.

Moments later, a scout rushed into the chamber, presenting the final control key extracted from a hidden vault in Madam Sicily’s manor.

Wiš’adel snatched it up, holding both cylinders high. A feral grin split her face. “Listen up. This city belongs to us now. And we are just getting started.”

Miles away, deep in the muddy wilderness, a chorus of howls tore through the storm.

Lightning flashed, illuminating three massive, shadowy lupine figures sprinting across the desolate plains. Mud flew from their heavy paws as they charged.

Standing perfectly still in their path, hands tucked casually into his pockets, was Frez. The rain deflected off an invisible barrier inches from his skin, leaving him completely dry.

“Looks like Zaro decided to sit this one out.” Frez tilted his head, inspecting the approaching beasts. “Shame. I was looking forward to turning that furry Gaston into a rug. Still, three Lords of Wolves? Not a bad haul.”

The giant wolves fanned out, executing a flawless pincer maneuver. Two flanked him from the front, while the third circled around to cut off his retreat. Millennia of predatory instinct drove their movements.

For centuries, these Beast Lords had chased the Lords of Sheep, fought their own kind, and vied for supremacy. Then came their great Game—using the Siracusan Families as their personal fangs, manipulating mortals into fighting their proxy wars. The last wolf standing with an unbroken fang would claim the title of alpha.

Madam Sicily’s recent demise had thrown the board wide open. These three had seen a golden opportunity to crush their rivals.

Instead, the Sarkaz had kicked over the entire table. The sudden, brutal invasion of Montloup had wiped their chosen Families off the map. Their fangs were shattered. Their Game was ruined.

The largest of the three, a hulking beast with snow-white fur, bared teeth the size of daggers. Its voice echoed directly in Frez’s mind, dripping with ancient malice. ‘Sarkaz Demon King. You have trespassed. You have ruined our Game.’Frez let out a dry chuckle. “Game? You call that boring little sandbox a game? Rearing pets, making them bite each other, tallying up points… it puts me to sleep. I’d rather play a round of cards with some actual friends.” He pulled a hand from his pocket and beckoned them closer. “So, what’s the plan? Think you mutts can catch me?”‘Not catch.’The white wolf’s muscles coiled tight, Originium energy crackling along its fur.’Kill. Without their Demon King, your Sarkaz are nothing but scattered pups. A pack without an alpha.’The three beasts lowered their stances, preparing to strike in unison.’Offending a Beast Lord will be your final mistake!’

In terms of raw destructive output, Beast Lords were far from the apex predators of Terra. But they were, without a doubt, the most obnoxious. They were functionally immortal, completely indestructible, and could turn invisible at will, selectively choosing who could perceive them. For assassinations or psychological torture, they were unmatched.

The three wolves lunged, their jaws snapping toward his throat.

Frez simply crossed his middle finger over his index finger.

“Domain Expansion: Unlimited Void.”

A pitch-black sphere erupted outward, swallowing the rain, the storm, and the three charging beasts in an instant.

Inside the void, time lost all meaning. An infinite torrent of raw, unfiltered information slammed directly into the wolves’ consciousness. They saw everything. They felt everything. They understood everything—and therefore, could do absolutely nothing.

The black sphere vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The three Lords of Wolves crashed into the mud, their momentum entirely dead. Their eyes rolled back into their skulls, tongues lolling out of their slack jaws as they twitched erratically in the puddles.

Given their immortal nature, their brains would eventually recover. But they still had to process the data dump. Frez had graciously gifted them roughly three thousand years’ worth of junk information. That would keep their neural pathways gridlocked for quite some time.

Grabbing the white wolf by the tail, Frez dragged the massive, comatose beasts through the air, flying straight back to Montloup.

He touched down in the core sector just as Wiš’adel was finalizing the lockdown. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed the three giant, drooling wolves onto the metal floor. The heavy thuds echoed through the chamber.

“Take these overgrown chew toys and toss them into the soul furnace,” Frez ordered, dusting off his hands. “We can slowly phase out the Revenants and use these guys as fuel instead. Just make sure you bind them tight. Don’t want them committing suicide or tearing each other apart once they wake up.”

Theresis gestured to his adjutants, who immediately moved to secure the beasts. The Royal Court’s Liches and Banshees would handle the arcane bindings, while the existing Revenants inside the furnace could act as wardens. Those ancient, bitter spirits, rejected by the collective consciousness and subjected to eternal burning, would show absolutely zero mercy to a bunch of intruding Beast Lords.

“Next up on the chopping block is Volsinii,” Frez continued, looking over the tactical map projected on the central console. “What’s the status on those High-Speed Battleships we seized? Keep a detachment in reserve.”

Theresis nodded in agreement. The Sarkaz General would personally lead the vanguard. His followers were iron-blooded warmongers, veterans who breathed the smoke of battle. Against forces like that, the remaining Siracusan Families were less than a joke.

Frez turned his attention to the logistical reports flooding in. They needed absolute, airtight control of Montloup before the sun rose.

The Sarkaz moved with terrifying efficiency, securing every critical institution, armory, and transit hub. The educated scribes of the Royal Court rapidly compiled the city’s administrative data, feeding it directly to Frez for review.

Deep within his consciousness, the Void Archives sifted through the massive influx of information.

[An optimal acquisition,] the golden cube’s mechanical voice chimed in his mind. [The primary exports are agricultural goods and automobiles. The industrial manufacturing sectors here will prove highly beneficial.]

Siracusa possessed a deeply ingrained car culture. Their vehicles were built for discretion, luxury, and heavy-duty safety. The standard mafia transport was a reinforced black sedan—unassuming on the outside, but fitted with heavy armor plating on the bumpers. The Families used them just as often for drive-by executions as they did for daily commutes.

By seizing the automotive plants and their skilled workforce, the Sarkaz hadn’t just gained a fleet of vehicles. They had acquired the perfect infrastructure to mass-produce heavy weaponry.

[I can provide the schematics for standard handguns, ballistic ammunition, and the necessary chemical propellant formulas,] the Void Archives offered. It recognized the need to modernize the Sarkaz arsenal. While this iteration of the Divine Key differed slightly from the one Kiana knew, its internal database was still packed with Old World technology.

“Skip the pistols,” Frez muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “Shooting these locals with small arms is like throwing pebbles. It won’t even scratch their Arts-enhanced defenses.”

The native Terrans possessed physical resilience far surpassing normal humans. A standard Earth firearm would be less lethal than the heavy Originium crossbow bolts the Sarkaz already used., Terra’s atmosphere was saturated with ambient Originium dust. Synthesizing stable, dust-free gunpowder required specialized clean-room environments that Kazdel simply couldn’t help right now. It was a logistical nightmare for zero payoff.

“Don’t bother with the small stuff,” Frez instructed, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the factory schematics. “Give me the blueprints for rocket launchers and guided missiles.”

The Void Archives paused for a fraction of a second.

[Very well. Initiating data transfer.]