Vampire Progenitor System-Chapter 118: The Summit 3

Geneva – Global Summit Hall

Afternoon. Tension giving way to talks.

The room was still tense—but not hostile anymore.

After Lucifer’s entrance, everything shifted. The fear didn’t vanish, but it changed. It wasn’t the panicked, twitchy kind. It was quieter now. Like everyone was realizing something important—there was no winning against this force. There was only understanding it... or being left behind.

The supernatural leaders didn’t move back to their seats right away. They stood where they were, watching the human side closely. And slowly, the humans did the same. They settled in, murmuring, glancing at Lucifer like he was some kind of unspoken measure for how far this meeting could go.

Fowler moved back to the center of the room. His voice cut through the tension.

"We’ll begin again. The point remains: what kind of future are we building here?"

President Malakov nodded slowly. "Let’s be honest. We can’t undo what’s happened. We can’t unsee what we saw. And we can’t un-know what we now know."

He looked at the other human delegates. "We need structure. For both sides."

The South African leader leaned in. "Then we start with what we can agree on."

"The formation of a joint body," added the Canadian prime minister. "One that oversees supernatural activity. Ensures neutrality. Tracks major movements, responds to crises."

"No chains," Vulpina said, stepping forward. "We’re not signing ourselves into a cage."

"Neither are we," said the French representative. "But peace without structure is just luck."

Zane tilted his head slightly, arms still crossed.

"A joint council," Fowler said, "not to control—but to communicate. Each race gets a seat. So do the major governments. A neutral ground. Permanent. Funded, guarded, respected."

Vladimir nodded slowly. "A council works. But the selection of the supernatural seats... that stays in our hands."

The Japanese delegate leaned in. "And what about enforcement? You want to be trusted, but who handles rogue cases? What happens when a vampire loses control and wipes out a town? Or a witch goes mad and rips through reality?"

"We’ll handle our own," Boris said.

Greta looked up. "We’ll need to train humans too. Some of them should know how to deal with our kind. Not just with guns. With knowledge."

There was a pause. Then nods. Quiet, hesitant agreement.

"That’s two bodies," Fowler said. "The Council... and a Task Unit. Supernatural-led, but mixed. Skilled humans. Trusted ones. They’ll respond to major threats—monster resurgence, rogue activity, outbreaks."

Lucifer, who had stayed silent since his first few words, stepped forward again.

He looked at Fowler. Then at the table. Then finally spoke.

"Fine."

One word.

Everyone turned toward him.

"But the Origin Clan stays out of it."

The supernatural leaders looked at him, and so did the humans.

Francisca, seated quietly near the back, didn’t look surprised. Zane didn’t even blink.

Malakov frowned. "Why?"

Lucifer looked at him. No aggression. Just clarity.

"We’re not politicians. We’re not diplomats. We’re not here to play nice or sit in meetings every time something goes wrong."

Vulpina tilted her head slightly. "You sure about that, Lucifer? You might be the strongest, but that puts a target on your back whether you like it or not."

"I’m already a target," he replied. "That doesn’t change."

Zane stepped forward, tone casual but cutting. "Origin exists to stop what others can’t. To do what no one else will. We’re not going to sit on a council when we might be needed to tear it down one day."

That landed hard.

Lucifer added, "We’ll protect the world in our way. Just don’t expect us to play by yours."

The room was quiet.

Then Greta spoke. "If they want out... they stay out."

Some murmurs. Some frowns.

But no one pushed it.

The German chancellor raised a hand. "Then we’ll need clear lines. Territory maps. Identification systems. Rules of engagement."

"We can agree to that," Vulpina said. "So long as you don’t expect us to register our children like criminals."

Fowler turned to the tech teams. "We’ll draft a framework. Policies. One that respects autonomy and survival. Not one built on fear."

Lucifer stepped back again. Done talking.

But the room wasn’t finished yet.

The werewolf leader from the Nordic Wildhunt finally spoke. His voice was deep, gravelly. "The beasts that came through the rift. Some are still out there. Smaller. Hiding. We should set up patrol rotations—supernatural only. Keep them hunted."

"Agreed," Vladimir said. "And tracked."

"Which brings us to information," said the delegate from Brazil. "The public knows. But only pieces. What are we telling them?"

The witches spoke next—one of the Highland Circle. "We tell them the truth. That four races live among them. That a threat came. And we fought beside them to stop it. No legends. No magic tricks. Just truth."

"They won’t like that," said the American secretary.

"They’re already scared," Vladimir said from the back. "You either feed them rumors, or you show them who we really are. Choose."

Fowler turned again to the room.

"Then it’s decided. The Council will be formed. With supernatural and human seats. The Task Unit will be trained. Neutral grounds will be set up in each major city—safe zones for all. Monster clean-up will continue. And public transparency begins now."

Everyone nodded—slowly.

Even the ones who didn’t look happy.

Because it was this... or nothing.

Lucifer walked to the edge of the circle. Looked down at the polished floor. Then up at the sky through the glass dome. The clouds hadn’t cleared. But they weren’t storming either.

It was enough.

Zane stepped beside him. "You think this will last?"

Lucifer didn’t answer.

He just walked toward the exit.

Fowler stepped in one last time, raising his voice for the room.

"Let this day be remembered. Not because we finished something..."

He looked at both sides.

"But because we finally started something."

Cameras clicked. Screens lit up. News anchors whispered into mics as the world watched.

And for the first time in history—

Humans and supernaturals had written something together.

Not in blood.

Not in shadow.

But in truth.