CHAPTER 193: Blood War-9

CHAPTER 193: Blood War-9

CHAPTER 193: Blood War-9

The vampire vanguard moved among the trees like silent shadows, each step calculated to avoid the crack of a branch or the whisper of wind over the grass. When they reached the main entrance of the old Nazi base, the night seemed to hold its breath. The structure, half-buried and rusted by years, maintained an air of latent threat.

Lucian advanced on the front line, though his presence conveyed neither haste nor aggression. He walked with an almost unnatural serenity, that cold calm that announces inevitable death. His eyes scanned every detail without blinking.

The first vampires entered in absolute stealth. Tactical flashlights barely illuminated what was necessary.

A few meters past the threshold, one of the soldiers murmured:

"Sir… this isn't normal."

The hallway was carpeted with shattered bodies. Remnants of tactical armor, black stains of dried blood, and Spectral Corp logos on perforated vests. They had been torn apart, not defeated. There were no survivors… not a trace of sustained fighting.

Only silence. An inhuman, dense silence, as if the base itself contained a scream that had not yet escaped.

Lucian leaned down slightly, observing the corpses with surgical coldness.

"Keep advancing," he ordered, without raising his voice.

The vampires continued down the main corridor. The atmosphere was increasingly oppressive, laden with the metallic smell of blood and a distant echo, perhaps wind… or maybe something breathing.

When they turned the next corner, tension exploded.

A group of lycans emerged from the darkness, some in partial human form and others already transforming, bones cracking and muscles expanding beneath the skin. There were no warnings. No shouts.

"Contact!" a vampire whispered, before the gunfire began.

The hallway filled with silver flashes: silver bullets fired at point-blank range. The lycans responded with fury, lunging forward with fangs and claws, tearing as they charged.

The vampires held formation. They were a squad trained for war, and the lycans fell one after another under the rain of projectiles.

Some, gravely wounded, crawled away into side passages. Others, in a desperate burst, completed their transformation and collided with the vampires with superhuman force, only to be brought down seconds later. The exchange was brutal, fast, and lethal.

Lucian walked behind the group with the same deadly calm as always. He didn't need to hurry; each of his steps was a sentence.

Meanwhile, in a deeper room of the main base, Raze was reorganizing the few lycans who could still fight. They had reinforced improvised barricades and were loading modified weapons with silver nitrate projectiles. Raze moved among them with a mixture of fierceness and urgency.

"Come on, everyone on your feet!" he roared, slamming a table to get attention. "They're cornering us, but we won't fall without ripping off some of their damned heads first."

The lycans nodded, panting, bandaged, bloodied, but with eyes burning with fury.

"Quick, arm everything that's left. No one stays behind," Raze ordered, clenching his teeth. "If you die, die fighting."

A lycan soldier approached.

"Sir… what about Marius?"

Raze growled, adjusting his rifle's magazine.

"Marius will do what he has to do. We'll handle keeping them out. Now, move!"

While the lycans prepared, the vampires continued advancing through the bloodied hallways, closing the noose.

Lucian kept walking without speeding up. His cold eyes gleamed with a silent promise:

Death is here.

And it comes with me.

The vampires advanced down the main corridor, forming a tight line. The flickering lighting cast agitated shadows on the walls, while the smell of fresh gunpowder mixed with blood and rust. The base echoed with distant gunfire and muffled growls.

Lucian stayed behind the squad with the same imperturbable calm, his presence so cold it seemed to steal the warmth from the air.

Upon reaching the interior hangar area, a metallic crash shook the hallway.

"Movement!" a vampire warned.

From the upper platforms and from behind containers, Raze's team appeared armed to the teeth. Their improvised silver nitrate rifles spat fire instantly. The storm of bullets filled the hangar with silver flashes.

"Cover the flanks!" a vampire ordered as several bullets whistled past him.

The shooting erupted like contained thunder. Both factions exchanged fire without giving quarter; the deafening echo reverberated throughout the structure.

Raze, positioned at the front of his lycans, fired with precision, covering his men while roaring orders:

"Don't let them advance! Aim for the heads!"

But the vampires did not retreat. Every fallen lycan was replaced by another jumping from the shadows, and every wounded vampire continued advancing with glacial determination.

Raze clenched his teeth in frustration. His breathing became a hoarse growl.

"Enough," he murmured.

His body began to shake. Bones cracked. Skin tightened and tore in sections. His face deformed into an elongated snout. Nails transformed into blade-like claws.

Within seconds, the lycan commander rose in his complete form: an imposing beast that filled anyone who saw it with terror.

Raze lunged forward, charging against two vampires who tried to stop him. He bowled them over with a brutal movement, sending them flying against a wall. The other vampires opened fire, but the bullets only slowed him down.

The lycan advanced, roaring with fury, making his way until he was just a few meters from Lucian.

Lucian watched him with his usual serenity.

"So you finally decide," the vampire leader murmured. "What a waste of time."

Raze leaped with the force of a whirlwind of muscle and fury.