Lunar Supremacy: The Original Alpha

Chapter 164 Proof Of Strength

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The designated meeting place for Vincent and the Redfang was an abandoned industrial area on the outskirts of New York. Vincent was well aware that this location presented certain disadvantages for him. However, despite these factors, he remained confident in his ability to handle any situation that arose.

In addition to his own formidable power, he had brought along a contingent of a couple of dozen vampires . Their presence served as a display of his influence and the strong foundation within Evangeline's faction.

"So they invited me here because its full moon tonight, "Vincent murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the sounds of footsteps that filled the air. His eyes remained locked on the celestial orb that dominated the darkened expanse of the night sky. 

The moon, at its fullest, cast an ethereal glow upon the scene, illuminating the night sky with its radiant light.

As the lunar radiance washed over him, he felt a surge of energy ripple through his veins. His body pulsed with an  vigor, heightening his senses and amplifying his emotions. Yet, amidst this intoxicating wave, a curious sensation unfurled within his chest. It was a cooling essence, like a breath of icy air that whispered through his being, invigorating his mind and instilling a sense of clarity.

"Thanks to the medallion inside my body, I am able to control my emotions better," he mused. "It would have been a hassle if I were to walked around with an unstable mind every time the moon reached its fullest."

"Master Vincent, I sense a a lot of presence ahead," a vampire spoke, her voice tinged caution.

"Don't worry; I will handle everything they throw at us," he reassured his group, his voice carrying an air of confidence.

With firm strides, the group forged ahead, their footsteps echoing through the desolate industrial area. Each member was acutely aware of the weight of the impending meeting with the Red Fangs, a notorious faction within the criminal world. As they moved forward, anticipation hung in the air like an invisible shroud, mingling with the moonlit stillness of the night.

The sound of their synchronized footsteps reverberated, a rhythmic cadence that underscored their unity and purpose. Their eyes scanned the surroundings, alert to any signs of movement or hidden adversaries, while their minds brimmed with what can happen tonight. 

However, one thing remained certain— the person leading them tonight was undeniably formidable.

Vincent, leading the way, exuded an aura of power that resonated through the group. His stance was relax, his gaze fixed ahead, as if already envisioning the success of their mission.

As they neared the designated meeting spot, a strong tension gripped the air. The abandoned industrial area seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the significance of the impending encounter. Shadows danced in the moonlight, casting an eerie backdrop against the cold, silent structures that surrounded them.

Then, as they approached the open area, they were presented with a staggering sight. There were hundreds of werewolves in front of them, their  figures melding into the starry terrain. The vampires, caught aback by the sheer number, couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration and irritation, quietly cursing all of the unforeseen odds stacked against them.

Vincent, however, remained unperturbed. With a calm and collected demeanor, he surveyed the sea of werewolves stretching out before him. While facing a dozen werewolves might pose a challenge to some, the thought of confronting a hundred did not unsettle him. His focus lay elsewhere.

What intrigued him more than the sheer quantity of werewolves was the presence of fifteen alphas and an aged man exuding a formidable energy, unmistakably marking him as a significant figure among them.

The aged man donned a red-colored jacket that made him stand out amidst the surroundings. Amusingly enough, it seemed as if he were sporting the very brand color of their gang. He couldn't help but find it somewhat comical. Thankfully, his masked visage concealed the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips, allowing him to maintain an air of mystery and intrigue.

"He may have a weird taste, but there's no doubt about his power," Vincent remarked, his gaze unwavering as it locked with the aged man who stood at the forefront . The lines etched upon the man's weathered face spoke volumes of the wisdom gained through countless battles fought and challenges overcome. His very presence commanded respect, emanating a regal air that left no doubt as to his authority as the supreme leader of the Red Fang.

"Good evening, my name is Lowell" the man's voice carried a weight, resonating through the open space as he introduced himself. His words, seemingly ordinary, held a power that could only be wielded by those who had reached a certain echelon of strength and power.

Vincent's keen eyes took in every detail, recognizing that beneath Lowell's aged exterior lay an indomitable strength, making him the second most powerful individual in this gathering, next to him of course .

"Judging by the commanding aura surrounding you, it is evident that you hold the esteemed position of the Supreme Leader of the Red Fang," Vincent's voice resonated with a composed yet assertive tone.

"My name is Fir," Vincent announced, using the nickname bestowed upon him by Evangeline. In truth, he was too lazy to come up with another alias, so he simply decided to stick with this one.

"Fir? What an interesting name," Lowell replied in a low voice, his tone carrying a hint of reminiscence. It seemed as though a wave of memories from the past washed over him, evoking a sense of familiarity. 

Silence settled, amplifying the significance of their exchange. Each leader exuded an air of authority, their magnetic presence commanding attention and respect. A visible tension thrived amidst the nocturnal ambiance, signaling the undercurrents of power and intrigue that flowed through their veins.

"I have heard about your demand... You truly are an intriguing individual," Lowell remarked, his eyes shimmering with a glimmer of curiosity. As an apex predator, few dared to challenge his authority. Yet, the masked man stood before him nonchalantly, seemingly unbothered. 

"You seek my allegiance, to have me work under you. However, I cannot simply relinquish the organization I have painstakingly built. If you desire it, you must first prove your strength," Lowell cautioned, his voice carrying a firm resolve.

A smile curled on Vincent's lips, his mind resonated with Evangeline's insights.

She informed him about how werewolves deals with such takeovers. Regardless of their stubbornness and loyalty, they had a deep regard for people who are truly strong. It was an inherent element of their nature, a deeply embedded feature of their kind. To lead them, one had to stand in front of them , exhibiting overwhelming power. 

Normally, the werewolves would only willingly serve someone of a different race out of respect or under special circumstances. However, Vincent was an exception to the rule. Being a werewolf himself, he possessed the unique ability to forge a pact with them, allowing him to command their loyalty the moment they surrendered to him. 

"Let's get this over with." Vincent's chuckle carried a hint of amusement as he broke the silence. His confidence radiated from his every stride, leaving Lowell visibly taken aback by the nonchalant actions of his enemy.

Lowell did not realized that Vincent had intentionally acted this way as per Evangeline's orders. It was a cunning move to solidify his position of authority among the werewolves. By demonstrating his strength and asserting himself as the stronger party, he aimed to earn their unwavering loyalty. He would show them, without a shadow of doubt, that he was the one who held ultimate power and commanded their respect.

As they advanced toward each other, Lowell's demeanor shifted, his body undergoing a remarkable transformation. His frame expanded, muscles swelling with raw power. Yet, contrary to the typical grandeur of a werewolf's metamorphosis, he remained smaller in stature, standing at around six feet. However, what he lacked in size, he compensated for with a striking appearance. His fur, a deep crimson hue, accentuated his piercing red eyes, making him a distinctive figure on this dark place.

The tension in the air grew palpable as onlookers eagerly anticipated the clash between these two formidable being. The moon's ethereal light cast an eerie glow upon the area, amplifying the tension and lending an almost mystical quality to the scene.