Chapter 185: Pure Insanity, All Hell Breaks Loose

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"AWOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Everyone else followed in a complete daze, overcome by Mordred’s overwhelming presence. Their skills activated automatically without conscious thought. Vladimir could resist the influence now, somehow, but he still chose to engage and play along for the moment. Every cultist transformed at once, becoming enormous werewolves. Their stats and ranks skyrocketed massively. Even the weakest among them all reached C Rank, while many climbed all the way to A Rank or even S Rank. As they roared and howled, their voices echoed endlessly across the stone halls. The three Apostles transformed as well, revealing their regal and monstrous werewolf forms.

Compared to the cult master, who stood enormous with his head decorated by curling red horns and who possessed twelve eyes across his face along with three separate jaws, the Apostles were only eight meters tall. Yet each of them carried their own distinct and terrifying appearance.

The first Apostle’s masked voice boomed across the chamber: "For the Wolf who devours the weak!"

He took the form of a slender black werewolf with glowing red eyes and a single black horn rising from his forehead. His face still wore the same mask as before, now adjusted to fit his new bestial shape.

The second Apostle’s crimson eyes gleamed with hunger: "For the age of pure strength!"

She transformed into a silver werewolf with four crimson eyes and long, razor-sharp crimson claws. She exuded both raw beastly power and refined vampiric strength combined — a true hybrid, a Vampirewolf!

The third Apostle’s scarred face twisted into a fierce grin: "For Mordred Claymore, our true Master! For Ragnarok!"

He was the biggest of the three Apostles, enormously muscular, covered in thick blonde fur, possessing four enormous and heavily muscled arms, and gleaming red-gold eyes. A huge scar still cut across his face even in this form.

Hundreds of voices rose in perfect unison. The entire cavern trembled with the force of their chant and endless howls.

"FOR RAGNAROK! FOR RAGNAROK! FOR RAGNAROK! FOR RAGNAROK! FOR RAGNAROK!!!"

Vladimir remained silent among them, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. He had also turned into his werewolf form, and the wild, euphoric sensations returned stronger than ever. Yet he forced himself to stay calm. After dying and returning, he had gained the ability to resist these authorities whenever he truly wished.

His eyes never left Mordred’s face as he glared at the man who laughed loudly and raised his arms high, receiving everyone’s praise while his aura continued to swell with their blind devotion.

"YES, KEEP GOING! MORE... MOREEEEE!"

Mordred laughed with pure delight, absorbing everyone’s madness, darkness, and dark devotion. His power grew stronger and wider with every passing second. It became clear to Vladimir now. The bastard had established this entire cult for the sole purpose of growing stronger, so he could one day surpass his father, kill him once and for all, and finally inherit the Claymore Enterprises seat as the new President.

The man who was Riven’s own older brother — cold, brilliant, and utterly without mercy — now stood as the living heart of the cult that had once given Vladimir a twisted sense of hope. In this moment the deep and disgusting truth behind everything was fully revealed.

"We’re all just playthings to some rich playboy," Vladimir sighed internally with rising annoyance. "I cannot believe this... this entire cult is nothing but a joke...! We are all just his tools, aren’t we? Tools to be used so he can steal his father’s position. Nothing else. Nothing more...!" His teeth clenched tightly with anger and frustration.

What he had once believed to be a genuine cult that wished to help and save those like him — people with nothing left in their lives, a dark home for society’s discarded scum — had ended up being nothing more than a rich playboy’s little side project designed solely to feed on their devotion.

How utterly ridiculous. How utterly... pointless! He felt betrayed and furious. In the end it had all truly been a game for Mordred, for Fenrir, for the Gods and their Authorities.

Fenrir had blessed this playboy when he first got lost inside that Gate, all just to see what sort of insanity the young man could pull off! And it had been for nothing else than that stupid, wicked desire for chaos and personal entertainment.

Vladimir now knew, free from the true soul-binding rules of the cult, that he should tell Riven everything — that his older brother was the cult leader, and that he planned to completely destroy the city eventually, perhaps in the near future.

"For now, my devoted followers, we’ll begin the sacrifices of the day!" Mordred laughed loudly as the Apostles dragged forward several heavy cages filled with young men and women, none of them older than nineteen. "Hahaha...! Yes, you’re all excited, aren’t you?!"

"AWOOOOOOO!" a red-furred wolf roared and laughed with vicious glee.

"YES, BRING THEM IN!" a female werewolf laughed while playfully attacking the cultists beside her.

"WOOOOHOOOO!" a group of smaller werewolves — young recruits — raised their arms high while revealing sickening expressions of pure hunger on their faces.

"BLOOD! I CAN’T WAIT TO EAT THEIR FLESH!!!" one of them had gone completely crazy, screaming at the top of his lungs like an insane bastard.

"YES! YES! YESSSSSS! AWR, AWR, AWROOOOO!" more voices joined together in insane amusement and complete depravity. Vladimir found himself slowly being taken aback by everything unfolding around him.

He clicked his tongue in quiet disgust as he glared in calm silence. Unlike his peers, who had been completely consumed by Fenrir’s Crest and had given themselves fully to their wildest, most beastly desires, he somehow remained himself. He had participated in sacrifices before, but those had usually been strong hunters they had hunted down themselves, offering their hearts to an altar once a year at most, yet this was something new, something different, something far wilder. These people were truly becoming mindless beasts.

The werewolf transformation had once been used only as a last-resort blessing to save one’s life in desperate moments. But Mordred’s overwhelming presence had somehow granted everyone the ability to remain in this form for as long as they wanted, as if some kind of internal "seal" or "lock" had been released, unleashing the true beasts that had been carefully cultivated within the members of this cult until now.

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