Chapter 84 The Bullet Train Siege

Chapter 84 The Bullet Train Siege
The torrential, freezing rain of Tokyo’s Kabukicho district completely washed away the neon lights as Julian and I stepped into the heavily armored Vance SUV waiting at the curb.

Like the ancient world was once again officially hunting us, sure, but the kings of the new world never actually ran. We just waited for our absolute, flawlessly engineered counterstrike.

Julian slammed the heavy bulletproof door shut, and our encrypted earpieces crackled to life, like they were annoyed we were late.

"The Alpine stronghold is completely reduced to ashes, Papa," our son’s voice rolled through the secure global frequency. Even with the digital distortion still chewing the edges, his icy-blue intellect stayed locked in that absolute terrifying calm. "The little Queen completely slaughtered the perimeter. But before she blew up the foundation, I entirely ripped their localized servers. I found Valerius's manifest."

"Tell me exactly where he is, my Prince," I said smoothly, my repaired heart thumping with a cold, unyielding rhythm under my dark crimson suit.

"Valerius isn’t in Japan, but his top lieutenants are," our son replied. His long fingers were audibly blurring over the keyboard, thousands of miles away in the Swiss Alps. "They are transporting a massive cache of stolen highly experimental biometric weapons. They are trying to move them off the grid. They just boarded a heavily guarded privately chartered supersonic bullet train tearing through the Japanese countryside right now."

Julian’s jaw locked into punishing steel. That underworld dictator—terrifying even by rumor—leaned forward, pitch-black eyes burning with an unhinged, feral anticipation of absolute carnage.

"Reroute the stealth chopper," Julian growled into the comms. "We’re going to completely derail their operation."

Ten minutes later, we were thousands of feet up, leaving the glitter metropolis of Tokyo behind, like it never mattered.

The Vance stealth chopper tore through the storm, matching the brutal three-hundred-mile-per-hour velocity of the Shinkansen bullet train screaming along the dark, isolated tracks below.

The chopper’s heavy side doors yanked open.

The supersonic wind was deafening—so violent it basically erased the storm sound altogether. I stood at the edge of the drop, the dark crimson silk of my suit whipping against my skater's physique, and I drew my twin tactical combat blades.

Julian stepped right next to me, a towering massive shadow of pure alpha dominance.

"We only have a three-second window before the train enters the mountain tunnels, Kaelen," Julian shouted over all that roaring violence. His large, calloused hand gripped my shoulder with this fierce, deeply protective obsession.

"I only need one microsecond, my King," I whispered flawlessly.

No hesitation. The absolute kings of the underworld surrendered to gravity, and that was the whole point.

We vaulted out of the chopper, dropping like lethal meteors through the freezing night sky. We landed perfectly on the slick curved metal roof of the speeding bullet train. Our heavy magnetic tactical boots violently locked onto the steel, anchoring us—completely, entirely—against the massive hurricane-force winds that wanted to tear us off.

Julian didn’t even search for an access hatch. The Fallen King drove his heavy combat blade down—violently, brutally—straight through the reinforced metal roof, ripping a massive hole into the pristine interior of the train car.

We dropped through the shattered metal.

Inside, the sterile, brightly lit train car turned into an absolute blood-soaked slaughterhouse in an instant.

Over two dozen heavily armored Praetorian assassins filled the narrow aisle. They had those terrifying featureless steel masks from the Shattered Crown faction. They believed they’d secured a transport that was completely impenetrable. They had absolutely no idea the Vance bloodline was already inside their perimeter.

"Execute them all!" the Praetorian lieutenant roared, raising a heavy suppressed assault rifle.

"You are completely out of your depth," I stated coldly.

Long-range ballistics were basically useless in a tight confined space, so it became this breathtaking, incredibly brutal close-quarters war with no rules and no mercy.

I weaponized my elite Olympic agility. The narrow aisle wasn’t a limitation; it was my domain. I dropped my hips perfectly, sliding across the pristine floor of the train with blinding supersonic speed. I channeled explosive rotational velocity like a triple lutz, ducked entirely beneath the Praetorian’s lethal arc, then spun on my heel to drive my twin combat blades flawlessly through the unprotected joints of his heavy armor.

He fell instantly, blood painting the luxurious seats crimson.

Right beside me, Julian Vance completely unleashed the monster.

He didn’t do that graceful edge work stuff. He did sheer, devastating alpha dominance. A massive Praetorian lunged with a heavy tactical baton. Julian ducked the swing, grabbed the man’s armored throat with one calloused hand, and with a sickening, deafening crack, he yanked the assassin clean off his feet and hurled him hard through the reinforced glass window.

The assassin vanished into the three-hundred-mile-per-hour darkness like a bad idea with momentum.

We moved with uninterrupted lethal pairs synchronization. I severed tendons and redirected kinetic force while Julian crushed their defenses until they stopped meaning anything.

We fought our way through the speeding train, dismantling the ancient assassins joint by joint, until the pristine car was entirely silent.

I stood in the middle of the carnage, flicking blood off my twin blades, chest heaving like it was still catching up to my rage.

Valerius wasn’t fighting a war for territory; no, he was doing something weirder, like going after the Mafia Consort’s biology.

Julian Vance’s flawless face went completely, terrifyingly pale, and then it twisted—like instantly—into this mask of pure, world-ending demonic rage. 

He stared at me, his massive chest heaving and every inch of him consumed by that agonizing terror, the one that lives in his deepest, darkest vulnerability getting targeted again.

I didn’t tremble, not even a little. I stared down at the dark crown tattoo sitting over my chest, then I shifted my gaze to the Fallen King.

"Let him try to take it, Julian," I whispered flawlessly, my eyes burning with a cold, absolute hellfire. "I am going to completely tear the Shattered Crown to ashes."