Chapter 150-A werewolf?

Chapter 150: 150-A werewolf?

Awooo!

The howl grew louder as Maisa raced deeper into the forest. Branches whipped past her, leaves rustling violently in her wake, but she barely noticed. Her senses had sharpened into something raw and predatory, every instinct narrowing toward the wolf ahead.

A savage rush surged through her veins. She could feel it; the beast’s presence, its scent lingering in the cold night air, its movements somewhere beyond the trees.

Her heartbeat quickened. She wanted to catch it, sink her claws into, and tear it apart.

Maisa couldn’t explain the feeling. It was as though the wolf had slaughtered everyone she loved, leaving nothing behind but grief and an overwhelming thirst for revenge.

Every instinct inside her screamed to hunt it down. To find it and make it pay dearly.

The intensity of the emotions surging through her was almost terrifying. Rage burned through her veins so fiercely that she could barely breathe, let alone understand it.

Where had this hatred come from? Why did she feel as though she had a personal reason to destroy this creature when she didn’t even know it?

Maisa struggled to make sense of the storm raging inside her. Her thoughts were becoming tangled, drowned beneath an aggression so powerful that it no longer felt entirely like her own, and that frightened her more than the wolf itself.

Still, she pushed forward. It didn’t take long before Maisa found herself standing in the heart of a pitch-black forest.

The trees towered above her, their thick branches twisting together overhead and blocking out what little moonlight managed to reach the ground. Shadows stretched between the trunks, deep and unmoving, while the silence around her felt almost unnatural.

Maisa slowed down. Her eyes searched the darkness for the wolf. She had expected to find a wolf. Instead, what stood before her was something far stranger, a girl.

She had long grey hair that spilt messily around her shoulders, wolf ears protruding from the top of her head. Her fangs were bared, and her body was covered in deep scratches.

Blood trickled from several wounds, slowly running down her skin before dripping onto the forest floor.

Maisa froze as the scent reached her. The smell of fresh blood and not blood from a blood bag but one directly from a vein attached to a body.

It struck her senses with overwhelming force. Her throat tightened instantly.

An intense thirst clawed its way through her, burning from the inside out. Her breathing became heavier as her gaze locked onto the crimson trails running from the girl’s wounds.

Maisa’s eyes darkened. Her pupils narrowed as every instinct inside her screamed for more.

The scent was intoxicating, and suddenly, the wolf she had been chasing wasn’t the only thing she wanted anymore. She wanted the blood.

Then Maisa’s gaze fell lower. At first, she couldn’t understand what she was seeing.

The girl’s clothing was torn across her chest, exposing a series of deep, vicious wounds beneath it. Three long scratch marks carved across her skin, beginning at her collarbone and tearing diagonally downward toward the right side of her hip.

They were far too deep to be ordinary scratches. The edges of the wounds were ragged and swollen, as though something with enormous claws had raked through her flesh. Blood still seeped from the torn skin, gathering in dark crimson trails that slowly crawled down her body before dripping onto the forest floor.

But it was the sheer length of the wounds that made Maisa’s breath catch. Whatever had done this hadn’t merely attacked her. It had tried to tear her apart.

The girl was panting heavily, each breath coming out ragged and strained. Her body trembled as she fought to remain standing, clearly struggling against the pain coursing through her.

But Maisa barely noticed. She wasn’t seeing an injured girl. She was seeing a meal full of fresh blood.

Not the preserved blood stored in bags that she had grown accustomed to drinking. This was different. This was warm, living blood—flowing straight from a vein, untouched and still carrying the heat of the body it belonged to.

The thought sent a thrill through her. Her throat burned, and her senses sharpened. The scent was intoxicating, overwhelmingly exhilarating.

Maisa took a slow step forward.

"Stay away!" The girl’s voice cut through the darkness.

In an instant, she bared her fangs and drew out her claws, her fingers curling into deadly weapons.

Maisa froze. For a brief moment, the haze clouding her mind cleared.

She blinked. Her eyes focused properly on the figure standing before her. The grey hair, wolf ears, exposed fangs, the claws, and the wounds that a vampire couldn’t have made.

Maisa stared. "Wait..." her voice came out barely above a whisper. She paused as though her mind needed another moment to process what her eyes were telling her. "A werewolf?"

She blinked again. Once, twice and a third time, but the image before her didn’t change. The creature standing in front of her was still there.

A werewolf.

For all her years as an Everheart, Maisa had heard stories about vampires. Her family had spoken of them as though they were an undeniable part of the world.

But werewolves? Those had always been nothing more than myths.

Old stories whispered about creatures that hunted beneath the moon. Monsters that didn’t exist, at least, they weren’t supposed to. Yet here Maisa stood, staring at one with her own eyes, and suddenly, the stories didn’t feel like stories anymore.

"Don’t say I didn’t warn you!"

The werewolf puffed out her chest, forcing herself to look larger and more threatening despite the pain clearly written across her face. But the movement only made things worse.

The wounds across her chest stretched. Fresh blood welled from the torn flesh before slowly trickling down her skin.

Maisa’s throat tightened. Her hunger surged, and she licked her lips greedily. Her appetite had risen to the surface.

The scent of fresh blood filled the air, stronger than before, and every drop seemed to call to something primal inside her.

Maisa didn’t step back as the werewolf wanted. She had read about werebites once. According to the old records at Veris Academy, the venom carried in a werewolf’s fangs was toxic to low-born vampires. A single bite could poison them and, in severe cases, kill them.

But Maisa had always dismissed it as another myth because she had never known werewolves were real.

Standing there now, she had no reason to believe otherwise. However, she had already fed. Her body was brimming with strength, her senses heightened, and her power fully restored.

And the werewolf standing before her was wounded. Badly. Every advantage seemed to be on Maisa’s side.

Her lips curled slightly. For the first time since entering the forest, she felt completely confident to win.

She had the strength and speed, and her opponent was already bleeding. As far as Maisa was concerned, she had the upper hand.

’This fight would be easy,’ she thought.

"I don’t care if you are a werewolf or not. I just want a drink," she let out, stepping forward.

The werewolf panicked. She had already sensed that Maisa was a vampire and could tell by the colour of her hair that she was redblood, so she thought she might survive by scaring Maisa.

It was common knowledge between werefolk and vampires that werebite was lethal to low-borns, yet the vampire before her didn’t back away.

She felt instant regret. She had just escaped her alpha, who wants her dead, and now she ran into a bloodthirsty redblood.

"So much for uninhabited land," she cursed under her breath. She regretted listening to her grandmother about Felor being empty. Clearly, it wasn’t.

Maisa rushed to the werewolf, grabbed her, and without any warning, dug her fangs into the girl’s neck.