Chapter 788 The Lycans’ Blood Bath

Voren’s gaze darkened dangerously, his eyes burning with a fury that could set the world on fire, pure protective rage rolling off him in waves, but Quinn suddenly asked, feeling confused, her voice small and uncertain.

“How did you make him out? They all almost look alike.”

“That’s what I thought before.” Jasmine said as she explained, her voice steady despite the fear that still lingered in her chest, pure residual trauma mixed with quiet strength. “There are still dissimilarities between them.”

It was clear as everyone studied the Lycans closely that though they looked alike, there were still unique qualities to their various physiques, small differences that set them apart, that made them individuals rather than copies. Pure focus settled over the group.

They looked horrified when they saw what remained on the floor, their faces contorting with shock and rage that filled the air with pure threat.

“Our protector. What have you done?”

One of them yelled, his voice cracking with fury, and the one Jasmine had pointed out was fast approaching her, his eyes burning with hatred that left no room for mercy.

“The fucking redhead bitch refused to die…”

He was saying when Kael struck him hard, his teeth gritted together, pure protective fury driving the blow. “Someone needs to teach you respect.”

“And whose gonna do that? You?”

The Lycan raised a brow, showing no sign of lasting pain, his body already recovering, pure arrogance still radiating from him.

“You touched my niece and my woman, and now you pay.” Kael said with gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous, pure lethal promise in every word.

The Lycan raised a hand only for pain to sear through his body as he growled, his hand falling onto the floor, severed clean.

“That was my niece too you touched, and this woman is my gamma.” Corvine said coldly, his sword dripping with blood. “As the Alpha, I avenge my own.”

Everybody wanted a piece of these Lycans, their anger a living thing, a fire that consumed them, so Voren allowed them to have their share of fun.

The other Lycans were stunned, their eyes wide with shock, but as they hastened to help their comrades, they froze as they began to feel their strength leaving their bodies, draining away like water through their fingers.

Quinn did not need to be told this time because she could now identify the enemies on her own, her powers awakening, her confidence growing.

And due to Oriana’s help, she didn’t even have to absorb any of the powers, sending them straight to the voidstone, the dark energy disappearing into the stone like smoke into the night.

As the seven warrior Lycans fell to their knees from weakness, their bodies trembling, their breath ragged, they tried to call for backup, but Voren didn’t let them.

“Corvine.”

He let out, and Corvine butchered them one by one to the horror of the one who attacked Jasmine, his sword singing through the air, his movements precise and merciless.

As usual, they ensured to leave the heads, as they removed all other body parts, scattering them on the floor like fallen leaves.

“You are dead. You are all dead.” The last one began to scream, his voice cracking with terror.

Seraphine’s claws elongated as she sunk them into his stomach, her eyes cold and empty.

Voren was stunned by her move until she spoke, her voice ice. Clearly, it was Marsha speaking.

“This is a mother, avenging her child from the idiot who tried to kidnap her.”

She pulled out her claws with the Lycan’s intestines slipping through her fingers, everyone was shocked, their faces pale, their eyes wide.

It was clear that the Queen had been learning her husband’s barbaric ways, or Marsha had learned too much from Bloodfang to initiate it.

A growl escaped the Lycan, but he began healing as Seraphine let out a wicked smile, letting go of the intestines and sinking her hand into his chest.

“This is for Jasmine. As Queen, I have every right to avenge my own.”

As soon as she ripped out his heart, he fell on the floor, dead, his body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut. Corvine wanted to dismember him, but Voren stopped him, his voice sharp.

“His sin is different. His master should see him exactly like this.”

The leader of the outlanders brought water for Seraphine to wash her hands as everyone turned to Voren, their gazes questioning, their faces waiting.

He turned to Oriana, his voice steady. “Please continue.”

Before Oriana could obey, Quinn’s stomach churned, and she began to empty the contents of her stomach, her body heaving, her face pale.

She was new to things like this, new to the violence, new to the blood, new to the death.

However, no one tried to comfort her. This was going to be her new life from henceforth, and she had to get used to it, had to learn to stand in the blood and not flinch.

“Are you alright?” Voren asked after she returned, her face pale, her hands trembling.

She nodded, wiping the corner of her mouth as she was offered a bottle of water from the outlanders, her fingers shaking as she took it.

She quickly rinsed her mouth before responding, her voice small but steady.

“I’m fine. I’ll get used to it.”

“Indeed.” Voren agreed as he explained, his voice carrying the weight of years. “As a pack, we protect each other, and this is what we do to our enemies.”

“I’ll remember not to offend you.” Quinn said, feeling afraid, her eyes wide, as Damon comforted her, his arms wrapping around her, his warmth a shield against the horror.

“Voren never hurts his own. If you had been in Jasmine’s shoes, this is the same thing they would have done for you.”

Her mate’s words were easier for her to digest and understand, a truth she could hold onto in the chaos.

Oriana continued to apply the portions, following them with enchantments, her voice low and rhythmic. But again, she didn’t get to finish when this time, a different set of Lycans appeared, their forms emerging from the shadows like nightmares made flesh.

The leader of the outlanders, who had learned a few things about the Lycans since they began to show their faces in the outlands, immediately recognized them.

“Those are the members of the Lycan army.”

They stopped when they saw what remained on the floor, their gazes dark, their faces unreadable. They were all in black suits with similar appearances, but as if their movements were rehearsed, they parted, and Battal walked through them, pure cold authority in every step.

His expression turned to different shades of white and gray when he saw the surprise waiting for him, the remains of his men across the ground, the clear message left for him alone. Pure shock and rising fury flooded his face.