Crimson Breath Of Resentment の小説・ストーリー

I would rain vengeance so brutal, the devil himself would bow his head. Anletsiktor better be ready. Because if he lets them take Luca? I would make him bleed first. ****** The Iron Citadel loomed in the distance like a wounded beast, its shadows no longer familiar, no longer safe. The moment the gates came into view, my blood began to boil. "Open the fucking gate!" I screamed before the vehicle had even rolled to a full stop.

The silence in the room felt tight and endless, making the silent scream in my own throat even louder. “Alpha Jermain!” roared the Crown Prince, a thunderous explosion that shook the very foundations of the room. He half-shifted, his Lycan wolf partially revealing itself, the air around him crackling with barely contained rage. The menace radiating from him was incredible, a force that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

People gasped, staring aghast as I lifted the Scarlet Mark out, the brand of the Rejected. "No!" one of Ilana's friends exclaimed, pushing forward but restrained by a pack guard. "Don't," Ilana begged, weeping tears. "Please." I clenched my jaw, reaching for her arm, soft, warm skin hesitating at the briefest of touches. My wolf growled at me in protest, and I pressed the brand into her flesh with a strained determination. Ilana screamed, the sound tearing through me like a blade. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground as the sear branded her skin. I released her in a sharp breath, stumbling backward with the weight of my guilt and regret.

The Black Dominion’s banners flapped violently in the wind, a sea of black and crimson that reflected their leader’s ambition and hatred. Raven’s hands clenched into fists. She could feel her power; so raw, untamed, drawn from love, fear, anger, and the children growing within her. The Hollow Blade’s whispers became louder, intertwining with her own thoughts. “Merge with me… embrace what is yours… protect your babies and destroy everything in your path…” She shook her head violently. “No!” she shouted into the wind, but the words barely carried. The energy inside her refused to obey reason. Her aura spiraled outward, tendrils of golden-black fire lashing into the sky, illuminating the valley

Whispering swelled into a full uproar, voices rising sharply in disbelief. My thoughts raced, desperate to make sense of what was happening. With the constant hum of conversation and gasps of shock bursting from every direction, keeping my composure felt almost impossible. My heart hammered in my chest as I struggled to contain my emotions. “Silence!” my father barked, his voice slicing through the tumult like a blade. His gaze swept from me to the alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack. “Alpha Varyon,” he added, tension thrumming beneath every syllable, “this is not what was agreed upon.”

A sea of blood and hatred stands between us, and he had the nerve to talk about being even? I stepped closer, making sure he could see the rage and vengeance burning in my eyes. "Sebastian, this is war between us. No holding back, no end until one of us is down for good." After that grand birthday bash, I could not stop bringing up Sebastian's shenanigans to my dad, my voice dripping with disappointment and disgust. "Dad, Sebastian's got no shame, no sense of right and wrong. A guy like that, even if he waltzes back into the Vitale clan, is nothing but trouble."

He drains me dry. I remembered the plan. I remembered what I told Ashren. Be ready. The Crimson Heart was an amplifier. It took whatever was put into it and magnified it. Malakar was expecting me to resist. He was expecting a struggle. He was pulling, and I was supposed to pull back. But what happens if you push a tidal wave into a garden hose? I grit my teeth. I stopped fighting the drain. Instead, I opened the floodgates. "You want my power?" I snarled, lifting my head. My eyes were no longer hazel. They were two suns of violet fire.

My heart clenched as I recognized the voice—the Alpha of the Crimson Pack, Swiftclaw. Hatred surged within me, fueled by the memories of that fateful day when I watched my father fall, his life extinguished by Swiftclaw's treacherous hand. The fire of vengeance burned in my eyes as he stepped forward, a wicked grin on his face, relishing in the torment he had inflicted.

“Pity is not justice. Mercy breeds rot, and rot breeds ruin.” I descended the steps slowly, letting each footfall echo. “When we swore the oath, it was to keep balance. One light for one shadow. Ares has forgotten. The goddess toys with him, and through him she toys with all of us.” Faces hardened; someone muttered agreement. I stopped before the broken table and drew my dagger, the metal still faintly red from the backlash. “This is not rebellion,” I said. “It is correction.” The dagger’s edge caught the firelight. “We are the Crimson Moon. We will cleanse what the false light has stained.”