Chapter 112: Bloody Moon III



7:40 PM.

Anthony arrived at the gas station before the Jericho police patrols. A corpse was lying near the gas pump.

The terrifying part was that the corpse had its head facing the opposite direction it should, and there was a hole near the chest-on the side of the heart.

Another gruesome detail was that near the body, there were two arms, two legs, and a bloodied head on the ground, scattered as if they were pieces of a Lego set.

‘Those bastards. A torso and a heart,’ Anthony thought as he began to follow the very noticeable blood trail. It looked like a path of blood guiding him-it could be a trap, but he had no choice but to follow. He trusted his strength and couldn’t allow them to complete the ritual.

On the blood path, when he reached a corner illuminated by a flickering lightbulb, he found two more bodies. The corpses were completely burned.

One corpse was tall, and the other smaller, like a child. None of the bodies had any mutilated parts.

‘They killed them just for fun,’ Anthony thought, giving a glance at the corpses before continuing. The blood trail was becoming thinner and leading farther away from town.

The blood trail led him to the Jericho landfill. It was located at the northern edge of the town and spanned three kilometers.

Anthony entered the landfill, which was desolate and filled with heaps of waste emitting an unbearable stench.

Anthony moved cautiously, his senses heightened, aware of every sound and movement around him.

In a small shed, the door stood open, covered in blood. “Did they kill the landfill manager too?” Anthony wondered. If luck had been on that old normie’s side, he would have left before the hooded figures arrived at the dump.

He entered the shed, and his guess was right. An old, hunched man lay lifeless on a table, his eyes wide open and filled with terror.

He left the shed and continued his search. Upon reaching the center of the landfill, he noticed something strange on the ground: an intricate circle drawn with arcane symbols, illuminated by black candles placed at each cardinal point. The circle was medium-sized.

‘A teleportation circle,’ Anthony thought, frowning. He realized what it meant. However, he didn’t have time to think.

A monster with large, round, and reddish eyes-its head disproportionately large compared to its body-leaped at Anthony with a deafening roar. It was a Hyde.

Anthony reacted quickly to the attack. His right arm transformed in an instant. His hand became hairy and more muscular, with sharp claws. With a swift and decisive movement, he blocked the Hyde’s charge and pushed it back several meters, winning the first round.

‘There’s the half-Hyde, its strength is no joke,’ Anthony thought, feeling his arm tremble slightly.

Before he could continue his fight with the Hyde, another identical monster emerged from the trash and lunged at him.

“Two Hydes?” Anthony murmured, surprised to see the two ugly monsters charging at him. He quickly figured it out: the hybrid shapeshifter and vampire.

The Hydes’ goal was obvious: to push him toward the teleportation circle, which faintly glowed on the ground from the candlelight. This time, Anthony transformed both arms. With

a growl of effort, he defended himself from both Hydes, pushing them back with his tremendous strength.

Before Anthony could move away from the circle, two hooded figures emerged from the shadows. Their faces were hidden beneath their hoods, but Anthony could make out a reddish glow around their eyes.

In an instant, fire rays shot out from the eyes of both hooded figures. The speed was incredible.

Reacting quickly, Anthony had no choice but to cross his arms in an X shape to shield himself. He tensed his muscles, which hardened. His skin became as tough as steel.

The fire rays struck his arms, but they didn’t burn him. It was as if his arms were made of metal.

“More power!” thought Sabrina and Sebastian, channeling more energy.

Anthony began to be pushed backward by the combined force of the Spellman siblings. In no time, he was dragged toward the circle. At that moment, another hooded figure activated the circle, which began to glow intensely, and Anthony felt an invisible force pulling him downward.

The teleportation ritual was completed in a blinding flash of red light. Anthony felt his body dematerialize, his surroundings changing instantly. When the light faded, he found himself in a completely different place-an arid, desolate landscape he didn’t recognize. “Ugh… damn werewolf. How strong is he?” asked Sabrina, sweat dripping down her face. She had never thought that her fire ray could be resisted by two simple arms, especially since her brother had also shot at the outcast cop.

Sebastian said nothing. He simply wiped the sweat from his forehead, frowning. The presence of that outcast cop reminded him of Atlas-a strength he had not yet attained.

“The good thing is, we completed the mission,” said Amaranth, breathing heavily as she shifted back into her beautiful human form.

Tyler also reverted to his human form, his face covered in sweat. He felt pain in his hand- where the werewolf had struck him. He hadn’t known anyone could possess more physical strength than him.

He thought of Luke, but knew that Luke used strange powers; it wasn’t purely physical strength. However, both Luke and Wednesday scared him more. Their presence was eerie and

sinister.

“I’ve already informed Atlas,” said Deacon.

“Good, let’s grab the mutilated parts and head straight to Nevermore,” said Sebastian. Everyone nodded and began to move.

The Jericho landfill returned to darkness and silence as the moon began to rise in the night

sky.

…

8:00 PM.

The night was steeped in palpable tension as the blood moon eclipse reached its peak, bathing Jericho’s cemetery in a crimson glow. The moon, fully covered by the Earth’s shadow, shone with a sinister red hue, casting an eerie light over the tombstones and mausoleums. Atlas stood at the center of the cemetery, patiently waiting with his eyes closed. The lines of the pentagram, which spanned the entire graveyard, were drawn in animal blood, and at each cardinal point, a different animal head was placed, its empty eyes staring into nothingness.

“They did it,” Atlas murmured, slowly opening his eyes.

From his robe, he pulled out a worn book, its yellowed pages filled with dark spells and incantations. Before beginning the incantation, he bit his thumb, letting the blood flow. He allowed the blood to drip onto the center of the pentagram. The ground quickly absorbed the blood, and the pentagram responded with an even more intense glow.

Then he lifted the spellbook in front of him, his eyes glowing faintly, and began to chant the incantation, his voice resonating through the night:

“Exsurgetis ex sepulchris, animas damnatas, ad imperium meum. Sanguis et carnis, vita in mortuis, ad voluntatem meam.”

As he uttered the words, the inverted pentagram began to glow intensely, each line traced with animal blood shining with a dark red hue. The animal heads placed at the cardinal points seemed to momentarily come to life, their mouths opening in a silent scream.

The ground beneath Atlas’ feet began to tremble, and a thick, spectral fog rose from the earth, enveloping the tombs in a shroud of darkness. The sound of cracking bones and shifting dirt grew louder as the dead began to answer his call.

Gravestones shifted, and skeletal hands started to emerge from the soil. The corpses, in various stages of decomposition, rose from their graves, their empty eyes glowing with malevolent light. Atlas continued chanting, his voice now a blend of raw power and absolute

control.

“Ad me veni, ad imperium meum. Sub imperio lunae sanguineae, resurgite et parete.”

The blood moon, hanging in the sky like an ominous omen, seemed to intensify its red light. The reanimated dead now stood in formation before Atlas, awaiting his commands. ‘The blood moon always amplifies power,’ Atlas thought with a faint smile as he observed his army of undead. It had been a long time since he could enjoy himself like this. “It’s time to fulfill my master’s orders,” Atlas said as he began to lead the undead toward Nevermore. The people of Jericho were spared from witnessing the army of the dead, as the path led through the forest, avoiding the town entirely.

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