Vampire Progenitor System-Chapter 117: The Summit 2

Geneva – Global Summit Hall

Midday. The Air Heavy.

The room felt too big for peace.

The broken-ring table at the center was filled now—humans on one side, supernatural leaders on the other. Spotlights buzzed overhead, cameras blinked red from above, and outside, the skies darkened like a storm was watching from a distance.

On the human side, the weight of world governments sat in tailored suits and quiet pride. But beneath their diplomatic stares were nerves. Fear. The kind that didn’t shake—just sat still and waited for something to go wrong.

On the other side, the supernatural leaders weren’t dressed to impress. They were presence. Living reminders that the world wasn’t theirs alone anymore.

The room was silent.

Until Fowler stepped forward.

He didn’t bow to either side. Just stood at the middle of the ring, jacket rough, boots heavy.

"Let’s start."

His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clean.

"The purpose of this summit isn’t to accuse. It’s to talk. To understand what comes next... now that everything’s changed."

President Malakov nodded once, and a woman beside him stood. French representative. Stern eyes. Polished voice.

"We have reviewed the events of the last month. The destruction, the deaths, the revelations. While we acknowledge the supernatural factions assisted in the fight—"

"—We didn’t assist," Boris interrupted. "We fought it. Lived it. Buried our own in it."

Vulpina raised a hand, quieting him.

The French rep continued, unfazed. "Then we thank you. But it doesn’t erase what was exposed. Powers beyond comprehension. Races hiding in our midst. Some of us believe... this cannot go unregulated."

The German chancellor cleared his throat. "We propose an international registry of all known supernaturals. Not persecution—protection. And coordination."

"Coordination," Vladimir muttered. "That’s a nice word for chains."

Boris leaned forward. "And when we refuse?"

"Then we negotiate," the American secretary of defense said calmly, tapping his pen.

Greta’s eyes flicked to him.

She stepped forward. Her voice was cool, low, the kind that didn’t need to rise to be heard.

"You forget," she said. "We don’t have to sit here. We don’t owe you this conversation."

"We’re trying to find common ground," Malakov said.

Greta didn’t blink. "You want control."

"And if we don’t try to control this?" a delegate from Japan asked. "What happens when another tear opens? Another threat? Do we hope you feel generous enough to help again?"

There was murmuring. Tension. Even some humans nodding.

Greta tilted her head slightly.

"We could wipe it," she said.

The room went still.

"Excuse me?" the UN spokesperson asked.

"Your memories," she said plainly. "The witches can do it. All of it. You’ll forget the monsters. The battles. The pain. You’ll go back to your old lives."

The American secretary stood. "That would be a declaration of war."

"No," Greta said softly. "It would be mercy."

The air cracked like ice.

Fowler stepped in fast. "Greta—"

But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes stayed on the humans. Cold. Distant.

"You lost one city. We lost thousands of years in hiding. Centuries of safety. Because one girl fell and the sky broke open. And now we sit here being told we should be contained?"

Vulpina stood now too.

"Greta," she warned.

"I’m not threatening," Greta said. "I’m reminding. You don’t get to rewrite the table just because you’ve been forced to see what was always under it."

Malakov looked to Fowler. "Is this how you want to build peace?"

Fowler looked tired. Like someone walking a blade’s edge.

"No one here wants war," he said. "But pretending this can be wrapped in laws and leashes is the same mistake humanity’s made since the beginning."

Silence.

Then Greta turned away.

"I didn’t come here for negotiations," she said. "I came to make sure another Remu doesn’t happen."

At the back, the human security teams stiffened. Guns weren’t raised—but fingers hovered.

The energy in the room changed. Darker. Sharper.

Then—

A sound.

Not loud. Not violent. Just... wrong.

The ceiling lights flickered once.

And the doors creaked.

No guards had touched them.

No one moved.

Then—

They opened.

Two figures walked in.

One with his hands in his pockets. Calm. Head down. A shadow trailing behind him like it didn’t belong to this world.

The other walked slower. Broad shoulders. Tired smile. Zane.

But it was the first who made the room go quiet.

Lucifer didn’t look like much at first glance.

But the air around him said otherwise.

It folded. Shifted. Bent toward him.

His presence didn’t demand attention. It took it.

He didn’t need guards.

He didn’t need words.

He stepped into the room like the floor recognized him.

Some humans stared, confused.

Others leaned forward, whispering to aides.

"Who is that?"

"Is he one of theirs?"

"I haven’t seen him in any briefings—"

But the supernatural side knew.

They rose—not in defense. Not in panic.

In acknowledgment.

Even Greta turned.

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Lucifer didn’t break stride. He walked toward the middle of the room, Zane a step behind.

He stopped just short of the table. Didn’t sit. Didn’t bow. Just looked at Fowler.

Then at Malakov.

Then at everyone.

When he finally spoke, it wasn’t loud.

But it sank deep.

"I heard the world wanted answers."

His voice was calm. Like a lull in a storm.

"But you’re asking the wrong questions."

Zane crossed his arms behind him, watching the humans more than the supernaturals.

Lucifer kept going.

"You’re scared. That makes sense. We would be too. But fear doesn’t give you the right to decide who gets to exist. Not anymore."

The American defense secretary stood. "And who are you, exactly?"

Lucifer turned his head.

"I’m the one who bled to keep this world spinning."

The German chancellor stood too. "We have records of everyone who fought. I don’t see your name on any list."

Lucifer stepped forward once.

"Because I wasn’t on your side."

That silenced them.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t threaten.

He just looked around.

"I didn’t come here to negotiate," he said. "I came because the people behind me asked me not to tear this place down."

Zane chuckled softly.

Lucifer’s eyes met Malakov’s.

"You want to cage us. Control us. Study us. But you don’t even understand yourselves yet."

He stepped closer to the table.

"You want my advice?"

Malakov blinked. "...Yes?"

Lucifer glanced at Fowler. Then at Greta. Then at every human official.

"Don’t start a war you can’t finish."

Then he stepped back.

Zane followed.

The humans stayed seated.

Shocked.

Still.

Even the air was holding its breath now.

Fowler slowly stepped to the center.

"...Then I think it’s time we all sat down."

No one argued.

Not this time.

Because the strongest man in the world...

Was already standing.