Hundred and thirty- four

Damien folded his arms, looking nonchalant and unscathed in the face of the catastrophe all around him. Blood spilled and splattered everywhere, guts and internal juice as well and the smell of smoke and ash with each breath he took. He barely made moves to kill anyone, watching as his men sliced, cut down and were also cut down by their opponents.

Any onlooker who was watching Damien would see and notice his calm demeanor, but on the inside, Damien was fuming. One would think that he would be happy from all the chaos caused by him and the upper hand he had against the Lycans, but they would be wrong. He was in a rageful fit.

It had been hours since he arrived in the Lycan Territory and began killing his way into the heart of it all. It had also been hours since he got feedback that Cassandra wasn’t even in the Territory at the moment, that she had been long gone since, even before the war started, so there was no chance of chasing after her even if he wanted to. He had tried to pry t