Chapter 147: Time To Go Wreck Some Wolves

Cyrus stepped closer, his presence filling the small space like gathering storm clouds.

"If we do this, we do it properly."

Crimson energy began to coil around his hands, like a living flame.

"Help me tear through Moonfall, and I will give you what you desire. Betray me, and I will know."

The words resonated with power that made the air itself vibrate.

Red fire erupted from Cyrus’s palms, spiraling outward in blazing chains that sought their targets.

Ginsei stepped forward without hesitation, ice-blue eyes calculating as the crimson energy wrapped around his chest.

"I accept."

The chain seared into his spirit with a flash of heat, and he smiled coldly, already cataloging how this oath might benefit him later.

Mochi’s ears flattened against his skull, his tails puffing to twice its normal size as the fiery bonds approached.

He backed toward the wall, pupils dilated with genuine fear.

"Mochi—" Cyrus warned.

"Kane better appreciate this," the cat spirit whispered, forcing himself to stand still as the burning chain sank into his chest with a hiss.

The oath settled into both spirits, like molten gold cooling in their bones.

Cyrus nodded once, satisfaction gleaming in his red eyes as the binding settled.

"What exactly does your oath do?" Mochi asked, still touching his chest where the chain had burned through.

"Betray the mission, and your spirit essence will ignite from within," Ginsei explained with clinical detachment. "Spontaneous combustion, essentially."

"That’s correct."

Mochi’s eyes went wide, his face draining of color.

"You could have mentioned the immolation clause before I agreed!"

"It’s temporary," Cyrus said dismissively. "The binding dissolves when we retrieve Kane."

His expression hardened as he turned toward the door.

"We’ll need to gear up at Veyr Corp. Military-grade equipment, tactical enchantments—"

"Bureau-grade strategy," Ginsei approved, already calculating weapon configurations and assault patterns.

"Proper planning prevents—"

"Cute idea, but we don’t always need corporate toys."

Mochi’s horrified expression melted into his usual mischievous smirk as he beckoned them deeper into his shop.

"Follow me, boys. You want to rescue your fox? I’ve got something better than anything in your fancy tower."

He padded toward another curtained hallway Cyrus had never noticed before, his twin tails swishing with renewed confidence.

"Trust me. Sometimes the best tools are the ones nobody expects."

Ginsei exchanged a skeptical glance with Cyrus, but they both followed the cat spirit into the shadows.

The basement stairs creaked under their weight as Mochi led them into absolute darkness.

At the bottom, a massive steel door waited, covered in runes that pulsed with warning light.

Mochi produced a ring of keys that defied logic—a skeleton key, a bright pink Hello Kitty keychain, what looked like a hotel room card, and a bent hairpin.

"Style points," he explained, working the hairpin into the lock’s center while the other keys found their designated runes.

The vault door swung open with a satisfying clank.

Ginsei’s mouth fell open. Cyrus’s eyes narrowed to slits.

Rows of weapons gleamed under amber containment fields—unregistered resonance pistols that could punch through dragon scales and black market grenades filled with spirit-disrupting shrapnel.

Ancient artifacts floated in suspension chambers, their surfaces crawling with forbidden power.

Armor sets hung like sleeping sentinels, chainmail that whispered with protective charms and leather that hummed with unstable enchantments.

Ginsei’s hand moved instinctively toward his concealed weapon, Bureau training overriding the oath binding his chest.

"This is a federal offense. Multiple federal offenses."

His voice carried the sharp edge of a serpent preparing to strike.

"Unlicensed artifact trafficking, possession of Class-A contraband, operating an unregistered supernatural armory—"

Mochi’s grin widened, utterly unbothered by the threat.

"You think I make a living off Pac-Man machines and novelty incense burners?"

He gestured expansively at his collection, twin tails swishing with pride.

"This is my real business, serpent boy. Supply and demand."

Cyrus moved deeper into the vault, his practiced eye scanning the arsenal with grudging appreciation.

A set of obsidian gauntlets caught his attention—spirit-forged metal that should have been destroyed centuries ago.

"Where did you acquire Dragonbane armor?"

"Trade secret." Mochi’s expression turned sly. "But it’ll punch through werewolf hide like tissue paper."

Cyrus lifted a resonance rifle, testing its weight and balance.

The weapon hummed with barely contained power, its runes glowing at his touch.

"This collection is... adequate."

Ginsei snorted at the understatement.

"Consider it an extended loan," Mochi announced, sweeping his arm toward the arsenal.

"Payment due when Kane’s safe."

Cyrus selected the pair of obsidian gauntlets; it responded to his dragon essence with eager heat.

He strapped on a tactical harness designed for aerial combat, each buckle clicking into place.

A resonance blade found its way to his hip—perfectly balanced, its edge humming with contained dragonfire.

Ginsei ghosted between the displays, his serpentine instincts evident as he chose tools for infiltration.

Smoke grenades disappeared into hidden pockets. A set of sound-dampening boots replaced his Bureau-issued footwear.

He tested a coil of monomolecular wire, nodding at its razor-thin gleam before securing it to his belt.

Mochi, meanwhile, grabbed everything that looked appropriately chaotic.

A bandolier of crystalline vials filled with volatile compounds crossed his chest.

Strange goggles with too many lenses perched on his forehead. He hefted what appeared to be a modified flare gun that crackled with unstable energy.

"Explosion therapy," he explained cheerfully when Ginsei stared. "Sometimes the best plan is pure, beautiful kaboom."

Cyrus surveyed his unlikely allies, both now bristling with enough firepower to level a city block.

Ginsei’s bureau attire had transformed into something lethal, every weapon precisely placed for maximum efficiency.

His ice-blue eyes held the cold calculation of a predator who had just remembered how to hunt.

Mochi looked like a demented Christmas tree—festooned with explosive ornaments and grinning like he’d just been handed the keys to a fireworks factory.

"Elias would definitely not be expecting this."

Cyrus’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

The wolf spirit had always underestimated chaos, preferring his carefully orchestrated power plays and psychological manipulation.

He expected Cyrus to arrive alone, wounded by desperation.

Instead, he would face a dragon backed by a serpent assassin and an explosives-obsessed cat spirit.

Mochi bounced on his toes, practically vibrating with destructive glee.

"This is gonna be so much fun!"

He reached for the vault’s light switch, his grin visible in the amber glow.

"Time to go wreck some wolves!"