Chapter 186: The Monstrous Werewolves, Vladimir Escapes!

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The air itself seemed to vibrate with their frenzy. The scent of blood, fear, and raw animal musk filled the underground chamber. Vladimir clicked his tongue as he glared at the scene in cold silence.

"AWOOOOOOO!"

"YES, BRING THEM IN!"

"WOOOOHOOOO!"

"BLOOD! I CAN’T WAIT TO EAT THEIR FLESH!!!"

"YES! YES! YESSSSSS! AWR, AWR, AWROOOOO!"

Unlike his peers, who had been completely consumed by Fenrir’s Crest and had surrendered entirely to their wildest, most beastly desires, he surprisingly remained himself. The crest pulsed on their bodies, twisting their minds and amplifying every savage impulse until almost nothing human remained.

He had participated in sacrifices before, but those had usually involved strong hunters they had tracked down and defeated in battle. They offered the hearts of those warriors to an altar once a year at most. This was different. This was new, wilder, and far more disgusting. There was no honor in it, only pure slaughter for the sake of amusement and power.

Mordred’s own overwhelming presence allowed everyone present to shift into their beast forms without consequences and without the usual requirements. He seemed determined to push the entire cult in a new direction — into something even more mad than before, something far more repulsive.

"No, please...! I have a daughter!"

"Aaaaggghh...! Someone...! Someone save meeee!"

"No, no, nooooo!!!"

"Cough, cough... you drug us...!"

"Y-You’re Mordred?! R-Remember me? I’m the girl from the pub! What’s going on?! Why are you a giant wolf?! What’s happening?!"

Most of the captives were people Mordred had personally brought from various pubs across the city. He had lured them into his private house with charming smiles and special drinks laced with powerful drugs, then transported them here once they were helpless. The entire process almost perfectly matched every dark rumor Vladimir had ever heard about what rich people in demonic cults did behind closed doors.

Vladimir clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Even he, a bastard who had killed and robbed simply to survive on the streets, still carried some morals deep down. This crossed a line he could never accept. Watching innocent young people being dragged forward like livestock made his stomach turn.

"Oh dear, I am glad you remember me," Mordred licked his sharp teeth with slow satisfaction. "I am going to enjoy this~"

"A-Aaaahhhhh! Aaaggghhh!"

Mordred grabbed the screaming woman by the hair and began tearing her arm off with casual strength. Then he ripped away her legs one after another. The Apostles immediately surged forward, drinking greedily from the blood that poured out of her mangled body while Mordred bit into her chest and tore out her heart, chewing it openly in front of the remaining captives.

It was pure horror. Yet nobody questioned it. Every single cultist present had been completely brainwashed by their transformed states. Their eyes glowed with mindless hunger, and their howls only grew louder as more blood spilled across the stone floor.

"I refuse to participate in this! I have to tell Riven before more people die like this...! This isn’t the cult I joined anymore...!"

Vladimir clicked his tongue sharply and turned to run.

"...?"

Mordred stopped mid-bite, licking the blood from his muzzle as he watched the singular werewolf fleeing instead of joining the feast.

He dropped the woman’s ruined corpse without a second thought and glared at the three apostles. "Who’s that? The one who just ran away?"

"Huh?"

"We didn’t see clearly, master."

"Do you wish us to track him down?"

"..."

Mordred narrowed his glowing eyes for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.

"Someone who runs away from this great celebration cannot be part of my cult...!"

At his words the surrounding werewolves nodded in agreement. Four of them immediately broke away from the crowd and charged after Vladimir.

"You have to be kidding me! You’re following me?!" He clenched his teeth and pushed himself harder, weaving between shadows as the distant howls and roars grew closer behind him.

He could hardly believe it. The cultists chasing him were people he had once considered close allies — men he had fought beside and shared meals with. Yet they were now completely consumed by the beastly side of their power, their human minds drowned beneath layers of bloodlust and obedience.

"You’re Vladimir, aren’t you?!"

"Where are you going?"

"Come back here, bastard!"

"Why do you run from the fun!"

"Tsk!"

Vladimir spun in midair just as four giant werewolves swung their claws toward him. He planted one foot firmly against the face of the nearest beast, used the impact to leap higher, and unleashed several assassination techniques with his own claws, replacing the knives he usually carried.

SLASH! SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

"Gaaaaahaaa?!"

One of the werewolves screamed in agony as his body was riddled with deep, bleeding cuts from every direction. He collapsed onto the floor and crashed through the roof of a nearby house, disappearing from a cloud of dust and broken wood.

The remaining three continued the chase without even glancing back at their fallen comrade. Vladimir clicked his tongue in frustration and quickly changed direction, moving away from the path that would have led toward Riven’s house.

"I cannot lure them to his house. I’d be putting everyone there at risk! I have to take them down all on my own...!"

He blurred forward into a dense, deep forest that led up toward a nearby mountain. The three werewolves stayed right behind him, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground as they drew closer and closer with every second.

"Come here, Vladimir!"

"Pay for your sins!"

"You dare rebel against the master’s great plan?!"

Their claws finally reached him, slashing across his back and tearing through fur and flesh. Vladimir hissed in pain, then twisted around and released a concentrated beam of death energy from his palm. The dark blast struck one of the werewolves directly in the head, sending the massive body crashing through a line of thick trees and leaving a trail of splintered wood behind.

The remaining two howled even louder and pushed themselves harder, determined not to let their former ally escape. Vladimir’s lungs burned, his wounds throbbed, and the forest around him grew darker with every step, yet he refused to slow down. He had to take them all down. There was no going back now.

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