CHAPTER 188: Blood War-4

CHAPTER 188: Blood War-4

Deep within a German forest, an old Nazi military base stood as a mute vestige of darker times. It had remained abandoned for decades, until the lycans claimed it as their territory. Its walls, devoured by moss and moisture, now contained a living, raw, and savage chaos.

Inside, the atmosphere was a whirlwind of violence and decay. Lycans of all ages roamed the place with erratic steps: some engaged in brutal fights, tearing at each other's flesh amidst bets that only worsened the tension. Others drank uncontrollably, wielding liquor bottles as if they were the only answer to the ghosts of an endless war. Some lay in the corners, defeated, staring at the cracked ceiling with empty eyes, as if they no longer remembered why they were still alive.

Then, a gunshot rumbled in the darkness. The blast cut through the cacophony like lightning in the middle of a silent storm. All eyes turned toward the elevated platform that had once been a Nazi command post. There, Marius held a still-smoking pistol.

The lycan leader, imposing and fierce, lowered the weapon slowly before beginning to descend the stairs. His mere presence forced everyone to step aside. Respect and fear mingled in the air with every step he took, until a silent circle opened around him.

"Look at yourselves!" Marius roared, his voice charged with fire and contempt. "A bunch of purposeless beasts! You kill each other over stupidities while our enemies mock our weakness. You're destroying what's left of our race with your idiocy!"

No one dared to make a sound. The silence was as heavy as a stone slab.

Marius continued moving slowly among them, his eyes gleaming with contained fury.

"Every day we are fewer. Every day our numbers dwindle, while the vampires thrive in their castles and mansions, enjoying their immortality as if they were the absolute masters of this world. And us? We, the true predators, live like rats!"

He paused. His words sank into the atmosphere like invisible claws.

"But that is going to change," he said finally, in a lower tone but charged with determination. "I know exactly what we need to win this war. I know how to eliminate those parasites once and for all."

He raised his gaze. His eyes burned with an almost wild intensity.

"Michael's blood," he pronounced with dark reverence. "That hybrid is the key. His blood is not just an abomination... it is the solution. With his power coursing through our veins, we will be unstoppable. No vampire will be left standing. Their castles will fall, their leaders will burn, and we will reclaim what is rightfully ours."

Murmurs began to ripple through the lycans like a wave: hope, doubt, ambition, fear... all mixed together.

Marius raised his voice.

"But to achieve this, we must act like a real army, not like a pack of vermin. Listen well: anyone not willing to fight and sacrifice for our survival... has no place here. This is our last chance. I will not allow you to waste it."

Without warning, he aimed at the ground near a group of lycans who were murmuring among themselves and fired, kicking up dust and splinters.

"Have you understood me?!" he bellowed.

A unanimous roar of agreement erupted throughout the base, echoing off the time-corroded walls.

Marius watched them, satisfied. Then he added in a lower, almost slithering tone:

"Prepare yourselves. The hunt will begin soon. And when we capture Michael... the vampires will be history."

---

The roadside diner was an old, faded establishment, forgotten by time. The wood creaked underfoot, the lights flickered as if about to give up, and the smell of reheated coffee mixed with the persistent smoke from a poorly adjusted grill. In a corner of the bar, Michael ate in silence, trying to go unnoticed among the suspicious looks of the regular customers.

An old television hung high up, its image distorted by wear and tear, broadcasting a local news program. Each sentence from the newscaster was accompanied by an electrical crackle from the speaker.

"Breaking news," the newscaster announced with a tense tone. "The police have issued a search bulletin for a suspect linked to a car theft. The individual, identified as Michael, a fugitive, was last seen in the vicinity of this area. Here is the suspect's image."

The screen showed a blurry photo, but clear enough to be recognizable. Michael froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. In the bar, conversations died, and an uncomfortable silence flooded the atmosphere. Several stares fixed on him.

Slowly, some men stood up. They looked at each other, sharing a tacit decision, before beginning to surround him.

"So it's you," said one of them, a burly guy in a worn leather jacket. His knuckles cracked as a warning. "The police are looking for you. We don't want any trouble here."

Michael put down the fork and raised both hands calmly.

"I don't want any fights. I'm just passing through."

"That doesn't matter anymore, kid," another growled, gripping his arm tightly. "We're going to turn you in and collect the reward."

That touch was the trigger. Michael jumped up and twisted his arm, freeing himself with an ease that wasn't human. Within seconds, the men were sent flying across the establishment, crashing into tables and chairs. Wood creaked, bottles fell to the floor, and shouts filled the air.

"He's a monster!" someone shouted from the back.

Michael barely had time to react when sirens began to approach. A patrol car screeched to a halt in front of the restaurant, flooding the interior with flashing blue lights. The broken glass was no obstacle for the electric projectile that struck him square in the chest.

Michael fell to the ground, groaning in pain as the discharge ran through his muscles, leaving him motionless.

The door of the establishment was thrown open. Two officers burst in with firm steps, flashlights raised and authority etched on their faces. Both were women with imperturbable expressions.