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Chapter 113

Author: Soter Precious
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-08 20:43:05

The woods are quieter now. Not peaceful, not safe—just quiet. As if the forest itself is holding its breath, listening to what it’s not supposed to hear.

Arwan steps out from the veil of shadow that clung to him after the ritual. The air feels heavier. Even the light dares not touch him the same. His boots press into the damp earth, leaving impressions that smoke at the edges before fading. His hands tremble, not from weakness but from the strange hum pulsing beneath his skin.

Something inside him has changed. Is still changing.

He keeps walking until he reaches the abandoned outpost near the ridge—a ruin swallowed by vines and time, far enough from both packs to be ignored. This is where he first bled for the cause. This is where he returns now.

His fingertips twitch. There’s a sensation just under the surface of his skin, like veins stretching, straining. He yanks his glove off and stares.

Black.

His veins run darker now, like ink spilled under pale flesh. They curl around his wrist
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  • The Lycan Prince's Blood    Chapter 141

    The gunshot splits the silence like a whip crack.Sharp. Suddenly. Loud enough to make the birds in the trees take off in a screech of feathers—if there were any birds left here.Arwan jerks slightly as the bullet slices past him, close enough to graze his arm. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t bleed. His head turns slowly toward the direction the shot came from.Across the clearing, half-shielded behind a crumbling stone wall, Bernardo lowers the rifle with clenched fists.His stance is firm, but his chest rises and falls in fast, shallow bursts. He knows damn well the bullet wouldn’t kill Arwan. It wasn’t meant to. Just a warning. A distraction. Something to remind this bastard that Theon’s not standing alone.Arwan’s eyes narrow. His smile fades.Then the red starts to creep in.It starts as a faint glow, barely noticeable at first. But it spreads fast. From the rims of his eyes, down his face, like cracks in porcelain. Blood-colored, pulsing. Alive.Theon sees it from the other side of t

  • The Lycan Prince's Blood    Chapter 140

    The clearing is too quiet now.Dead leaves scatter at Theon’s feet as he steps forward, slow and deliberate, claws twitching at his sides. His breathing is steady, but not calm. There’s a rhythm to it—tight, controlled, but thick with the kind of restraint that can snap.Across from him, Arwan watches with a small, bitter smile playing on his lips. Like he’s already won. His robe sways gently with the wind, and beneath it, his fingers flex with an unnatural twitch, as if they itch to pull something dark from the air.They stand several paces apart, the battlefield stretched open around them, a circle carved out by death and war and the weight of everything that’s come before this moment. Behind Theon, the sound of battle has faded into a dull, distant throb—like the earth itself is holding its breath.Arwan breaks the silence first.“You’re slower than I thought you'd be,” he says, casual, like they’re old friends. “Must be age. Or maybe the weight of being Alpha is finally dragging y

  • The Lycan Prince's Blood    Chapter 139

    Theon’s mother, Nana, doesn’t wait for a signal. She’s already moving before the walls shake again.Smoke bleeds through the cracks in the distant sky. Screams and growls echo over the ridge. But here, inside the old eastern wing of the NorthHill packhouse, Nana’s voice is the only sound the pack members follow.“Stay close,” she says, her voice low but firm, one hand raised to guide, the other clutching the ancient key she hasn’t used in thirty years. “No talking. No stopping. If you hear anything, ignore it.”Behind her, a crowd of pack members—women, pups, elders—shuffle as quietly as they can through the narrow hallway. Fear hangs over them, thick and quiet like fog. No one dares cry. Even the youngest hold their breath.Nana doesn’t flinch. Her footsteps are steady, silent.She leads them past the old war chamber, through a narrow corridor long sealed with debris. Years ago, Theon had asked why this side of the estate remained untouched. She had given him a simple answer: some do

  • The Lycan Prince's Blood    Chapter 138

    The stench of decay chokes the air outside NorthHill. It creeps in thick and heavy, sinking into the soil, into the lungs of every warrior still standing. The ground is soaked with blood, but the wolves don’t stop.They never stop.Every time one falls, another rises. Teeth snapping, eyes empty, bodies twisted into unnatural forms. They don’t howl like wolves. They scream.And that sound—shrill, broken, inhuman—echoes over the field like a haunting lullaby no one asked for.Theon stands at the center of it all, already shifted into his Lycan form. His massive body is slick with blood, muscles taut and pulsing beneath silver-streaked fur. Each movement is lethal. His claws tear through flesh. His jaws snap bone. But the creatures keep coming.His breath comes in hot bursts. Not from exhaustion. From rage.From knowing this isn’t just a battle—it’s a distraction. A trick. He can feel it in the way the undead move. Messy. Loud. Designed to draw attention."Bernardo!"Theon's growl cuts t

  • The Lycan Prince's Blood    Chapter 137

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  • The Lycan Prince's Blood    chapter 136

    A sharp, distant howl cuts through the stillness. Not one of theirs. Not NorthHill.It rips through the late morning air like a warning shot—raw, feral, deliberate.NorthHill has been quiet since Lumina’s return. But they all knew peace was temporary.Another howl follows. Closer.By the time the third pierces the ridge, Theon’s already moving.He doesn’t wait for confirmation. Doesn’t wait for a scout. His instincts snap like a live wire under his skin. He strides out of the war room, rifle slung across his back, sidearm clipped, cloak thrown over one shoulder like an afterthought.“Bernardo,” he barks, voice sharp.Bernardo appears from the eastern stairwell, half-jogging, a digital tablet clutched in his left hand. His face is tight with urgency.“They’ve breached the ridge. East side perimeter. It’s bad,” he says without preamble.“How many?”“We stopped counting,” Bernardo mutters. “Easily two full packs. Rogues, undead wolves, scattered shifters… and PhantomMoon soldiers. Confir

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