Chapter 767 – The Lycan’s Secret Meeting I

Chapter 767: Chapter 767 – The Lycan’s Secret Meeting I

A few months ago, in the elders’ conference room at the Lycan fortress, six elders were gathered together with the Lycan King, Battal.

Their expressions were grim, carved from stone and shadow, even as they confronted him. The air in the room felt thick and heavy, charged with the kind of tension that could turn violent at any moment. The long stone table between them seemed to absorb the weight of every unspoken threat.

"You promised to bring us a more powerful white wolf, and for the first time, you have failed to keep up to your promise." The first elder’s voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy silence with a force that left no room for soft answers. "Not only that, you also had two of our powerful witches killed like chickens."

Before he could finish his accusation, the second elder added his voice, the words dripping with disdain and a barely restrained fury. "You forgot to mention he had one of our warriors killed. Your promise to return the crown has also become wind."

He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with malice that made the shadows in the room feel deeper. "Battal, why shouldn’t we remove you? Besides, even your own son cut ties for a mere human. Should we say that you are incapable?"

Even as the King, Battal was accountable to the elders for all his deeds. However, he also knew they were afraid of him, afraid of the power he wielded, afraid of the darkness that lurked beneath his calm exterior.

That fear was the only thing keeping their open hostility from becoming open attack. His expression was cold as he responded to the various accusations, every word measured and edged with steel.

"Since you all think I am incapable, then why don’t we go back to the training room to see which of you are capable of replacing me?" His voice was ice, each word a blade that sliced through the room. "You talk about bringing more white wolves. How do we get more white wolves when we have captured all of them..."

He was saying when the third elder’s voice cut in, sharp and impatient, filled with a hunger that had nothing to do with patience.

"One of the grand wizards said there were two more out there in the wolf land, and they are more powerful than all the ones we have put together." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room with a slow, calculating intensity. "Besides, these ones have become weak after being drained of their blood for so long. Some of them have refused the nourishment we provide, choosing to rather die than have another drop of blood for us to drain."

"That means that someone isn’t doing his job right." Battal’s voice was cold, dismissive, carrying a quiet threat that made the elder’s shoulders tighten. "And why should it be me? Am I also in charge of watching over the white wolves after capturing and bringing them?"

The elder’s voice faltered, his confidence wavering under the weight of the King’s stare. "You are right about that part, but what about the mother and child? I heard the blood of the child can make us immortal." He leaned forward, his eyes burning with greed so raw it almost lit the space between them.

"This is what we have waited for, for centuries. It was already prophesied that there will be white wolves who would give us the gift of immortality, and with that, we can rule the whole world even without the crown."

Battal’s expression hardened at the mention of that part, his jaw tightening, his hands curling into fists at his sides until the knuckles stood out white. He was growing and seeing how these elders had aged, they were close to their graves and would soon be replaced. Battal knew that very soon, he would also reach the age where he would be replaced as king and pushed into the office of the elders.

The truth was, Battal did not want to age anymore. He was more desperate for that immortality than any of them, and the hunger for it lived in him like a second heartbeat, constant and relentless.

"Their protector is strong." His voice was measured, controlled, but the anger beneath it pressed against the edges of every word. "For centuries, we have easily captured the white wolves no matter where they were, but this new werewolf king is different. His strength matched mine, and he’s fearless." He paused, his gaze sweeping through the room with a slow, dangerous weight. "Don’t think I haven’t been trying."

He paused again, releasing a breath that did nothing to hide his anger, though his expression remained calm and cold.

"You talk about the witches. Did you forget that Amelia went on her own revenge with her hybrid daughter? She would have still been banished after her return anyway. After all, she wasn’t our kind." His voice was flat, dismissive, stripping the subject of any remaining emotion. "Jane is the only one I am responsible for, and her blood would be avenged."

He paused again, his eyes darkening with a promise of violence that made the room feel smaller.

"As for our warrior, he shall also be avenged."

The fourth elder spoke, his voice careful, measured. The Lycans had an organized way in meetings. One elder was not allowed to speak continuously unless all elders had spoken, or unless other elders had nothing to say. Each elder had to take turns without needing permission. The formality of it only made the underlying hostility sharper.

"King Battal, you have been our most powerful until your son, Bowen. I think we should bring him back. He would be better for us alive than dead."

Battal’s expression dulled, a flicker of something that might have been shame crossing his features before he locked it away.

What Bowen did was a shame to him, a stain on his legacy that could never be washed away, and the memory of it still burned. But before he could speak, the fifth elder spoke up, his tone carrying a quiet finality.

"Have you all forgotten that we sent the Lycan assassins after him the moment he cut ties?"

"Yes, but they failed," the sixth elder said, his voice heavy with disappointment and a bitterness that had clearly been sitting with him for some time.

The first elder shook his head, his expression grim and absolute. "Information reached us a week ago that the poison method worked. Bowen Legend is dead, and so will be anyone who chooses love over the woman we arranged for them." He paused, letting the words sink in with a cold weight that settled over the table. "I was thinking about Battal’s grandson, Braxson Legend. So far, he has never failed any mission."

"But he’s too young," the second elder countered, his brow furrowing with genuine concern. "He wouldn’t complete his training at the academy until the next eleven years."

"I disagree," the third elder said, his voice firm and filled with a dark certainty. "We have all seen that Brax was born with evil. His grandfather, Battal, has subjected him to more torture than the other young warriors, but he passed them all." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room with a slow, deliberate intensity that made several of the others look away. "To me, Brax is the only one capable."

"You are all right, but also wrong," the fourth elder said, his voice cutting through the murmurs of agreement with a sharp edge of warning. He leaned forward, his eyes glittering with something that looked almost like fear. "Are you not forgetting the most important details?"