Chapter 453: Amassing Energy…

The tram graveyard shrank the further he ran, alarms now a distant noise as he climbed onto a building’s rooftop, before dropping down. Flares shone in the sky as they searched. Nikolai slipped through a drainage ditch and crawled up a wall, the city’s silhouette finally within reach.

His breathing was erratic and ragged.

Not from exhaustion alone….

But the sudden influx of power from the enhanced humans he killed.

A raw, gnawing tide of it, crawling through every nerve.

Nikolai’s muscles twitched without his command, his claws flexing in and out, bone creaking with each involuntary spasm. The force of fifty lives, fifty hearts all beating inside his ribcage like prisoners.

Too much…

To absorb this much power at once, he would surely become stronger… but at the same time, he would undoubtedly enter a blood frenzy, different from the night before. A more dangerous and extreme frenzy.

The werewolf inside him licked its chops, thrilled at the gains.

Every scream, every drop of blood he’d swallowed in the dark made it stronger, more ravenous.

“Shut up,” he hissed aloud, raking his nails across the brick wall of an alley, creating a dance of sparks, before he darted away. “Not here, not now…”

Memories of drinking a woman’s blood when he first changed, and almost killing her, surfaced whenever he felt this sense of elation and bloodthirst.

A drunk staggered past the mouth of the alley, eyes catching the faint black glow leaking from Nikolai’s body. The man froze, half-thinking it a trick of the light. Then he turned and fled.

Nikolai leaned against the wall, heart hammering.

If one of the girls sees me like this…

Leona’s warm palms… her soft, plump hips…. Clara’s lovely face and her pure, untouched body. Anya’s playful and seductive teasing. He imagined their faces, trying to calm himself, but the bloodthirst just twisted the images… obscene, violent and smiles became tears.

He imagined their faces—and then, for a heartbeat, imagined tearing into their throats. His fangs ached with the thought.

“Enough.”

He slammed his head once into the brick until the haze cleared. His blood hissed where it splattered, a black stream sizzling before it dissolved. The dirty bricks where it touched were now pristine, as if brand new.

Step after step, he forced himself through the veins of Londis. Past shuttered shops. Past puddles reflecting a fractured moon. Past watchmen who didn’t see the shadow pacing right behind them.

Every time a heartbeat drew close, his hands shook. Every time the air carried human sweat, his vision swam red. It was only will. Iron, brutal will that pulled him toward home instead of back into slaughter.

“Haa….haaa….. blood….”

He reached the block at last, his building looking above as he gazed inside… the familiar yoga pants appeared at the front desk.

Ba-Dump….

A tight… painful burst of blood filled his crotch, and his throat became parched.

No!

He didn’t step inside immediately.

He lingered at the corner, watching from the shadows and breathing slowly while counting seconds, forcing the black aura back under his skin. If he walked in now, dripping with the stench of massacre, those girls would understand what happened without question.

“Tch.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, forcing a smile that wasn’t real. “Don’t be pussying out now, don’t let your women wait…”

Nikolai closed his eyes and pushed inside the foyer, hoping the girl wouldn’t call to him.

But…

Life never went according to plan.

“Mr Volkov?”

The pretty young woman in yoga pants called out. Today, she wore a black pair, but the lines of her hips, crotch, and thighs were crystal clear. Nikolai’s head throbbed with a voracious hunger, for blood, life… and more.

Her nametag…. he noticed it this time.

Maria

Dirty blonde hair, slightly wavy… a modest-sized chest, a small numbered C-cup.

“Ah…. Maria was it?”

“E-Eh, yes….” Her eyes trembled, as Nikolai panted heavily…. his eyes fixated on the girl with his fangs extended. “Y-You look a little trouble, is everything alright?”

Nikolai’s throat worked, dry as bone.

The sound of her pulse was louder than her voice, steady, quickened only by his presence.

“Trouble?” He repeated the word slowly, like tasting it. His tongue brushed against the tip of a fang. “You could say that.”

Maria shifted behind the counter, nervous but trying to keep professional. “Do you… Want me to call someone? You don’t look well.”

Her fingers twitched toward the phone.

Ba-dump.

The voice of his inner wolf laughed at him, low and cruel. She’s right there. Fragile. Alone. Take her. Tear her apart and fill yourself.

He swallowed hard, nails digging half-moons into the stone of the reception desk. Splinters crackled under his grip. “No… don’t… call anyone. I’ll be fine.”

Maria tilted her head, strands of blonde hair falling across her cheek. She wasn’t beautiful in the way Leona was, nor wild like Anya, nor radiant like Clara. But her ordinariness…. that simple, healthy warmth carried a delicious scent… like a mother’s cooking.

Blood.

He could almost taste it already, thick and copper-sweet, running across his tongue, her body slack in his arms as she succumbs to the euphoria of having her blood drained.

Nikolai’s breath grew ragged.

He leaned closer to take a faint sniff, her scent swamping his senses.

Maria stepped back, falling onto the office chair, her lips trembling. “M-Mr Volkov, you’re scaring me.”

True, she did feel fear… he could see the colour of fear in her aura, but the biggest colour was different… a dark pink, and powerful aura.

Her cheeks became red as he stared at her partially opened shirt.

He forced a grin that showed too many teeth. “Heh… don’t worry about it. Long night.”

His aura burned the excess aura rapidly, being transformed, purified, and part of his power, black heat rolling across his body before he strangled it down as Maria gasped, her hands gripping the desk.

Eyes filled with expectation and terror.

Leave. Now

Nikolai turned away sharply, shoulders trembling from the effort of restraint. “Forget you saw me like this.” His voice was guttural, barely human.

He moved toward the stairwell. Every step away from her was war, his fangs refusing to retract, his hands twitching to turn back.

Behind him, Maria called out softly, voice shaken but genuine:

“…Mr Volkov… please… take care of yourself.”

The words lingered, like hooks piercing his spine. Not fear, no disgusting…. but disappointment. He couldn’t help but snort, almost turning back. However, Nikolai forced himself up the stairs, two steps at a time, until the girl’s scent was gone.

By the time he reached the landing, his head was buzzing. His veins still sang with stolen power, screaming for release.

The door to the apartment stood only a few paces away.

Would he find Anya or Leona first… would they help soothe him with their delicious blood? His heart throbbed, pounding faster and faster with each tiny thread of purified aura that slipped into his black heart.

Strength.

Hunger.

Lust.

The lock clicked under his hand.

Nikolai pushed the door open, the familiar scent of their apartment flooding him—ginger, perfume, faint traces of tobacco, blood. But the two strongest presences weren’t here.

His eyes immediately caught the folded note on the table, written in Leona’s neat, deliberate hand.

Darling, don’t wait for us. I’ve taken Anya shopping for some gifts. If you come back before we do, there’s some food in the fridge, just heat it for 3 minutes on high, and it should be fine to eat.

Love you.

“Che…” Nikolai crumpled the paper in his fist. His throat was on fire, the emptiness of the apartment making every heartbeat inside him echo louder. His eyes burned black, aura flickering like smoke off a dying flame.

For a second, he thought of collapsing onto the sofa, closing his eyes, trying to outwait the storm of hunger. But another sound reached him—the soft creak of wood.

Ryan’s door was closed. No, this wasn’t him.

He turned his head.

She stood in the living room’s pale light, framed by the thin curtains.

Clara.

A blue summer dress traced her small, flawless frame, the straps loose against her pale shoulders. She tied her long, silky black hair into a side ponytail, a simple style that made her look even more like a fairy.

She watched him with her dark pools and a soft smile.

That’s when the scent of her blood hit him like a hammer.

Sweet, pure, and yet dangerous.

Nikolai’s body swayed toward her without command, his claws half-extended, his throat aching with a dry, endless hunger.

“…Clara…” His voice cracked like gravel. “Stay away.”

Instead, she smiled. Not shy, not afraid. Soft, radiant, as if she’d been waiting.

“It’s hard, right, Brother Nikolai?” she said gently, stepping closer. “Fighting it. Holding it back.”

He staggered, shoulders trembling, teeth grinding as his fangs lengthened. “Don’t—”

Clara lifted her arms, spreading them wide. Inviting. Her delicate collarbone caught the light as she let the straps of her summer dress slip from her shoulders, the fabric sliding lower. White skin soft as porcelain, untouched and impossibly alluring.

Her neck was bare, tilted slightly… faint veins pulsing just under the surface.

For a moment, he saw a devilish smile on her lips…The look of a seductive fox, rather than an innocent fairy.

“Come here,” she whispered.

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