CHAPTER 469: RED LIGHT HUNGER

The sound of claws tearing flesh reverberated through the arena, drowning the crowd’s howls.

Nikolai’s black aura billowed like a restless flame as his hand closed around Velran’s throat. The old man’s body thrashed, half-shifted and covered in blood. He grabbed Nikolai’s wrists, raking his arm, but the werewolf didn’t relent.

"Enough, it’s over."

Nikolai’s snarl caused the old man to gasp. His claws pierced deeper, warm blood bubbling down his arms, and with a violent wrench, he slammed Velran into the ground, causing a wave of sand.

The crowd erupted in a mixture of horror and ecstasy.

"Oh my God!? He’s done it again!"

Velran coughed blood, his chest struggling to rise and fall as he gasped desperately. His twisted, half-bestial form flickering like a dying flame, beaten and tired.

Nikolai stood over him, with a sharp glare, ready to end it with a single strike.

Velran’s lips curled in a distorted smile.

"Arrogant.... wolf...." He spoke with a raspy voice, wet with blood. "Do you think this is a victory, you’re playing with an enemy you cannot see..."

Nikolai narrowed his eyes. "Talk sense, old man."

Velran’s gaze sharpened, gold flecks gleaming through the blood that stained his eyes. "Keep pushing the Silver Clan... and you’ll learn. They won’t forgive you. Not you. Not your father... Not anyone who carries your blood. They will grind your bones to ash... even if they burn half the world to do it."

Strange....

The Silver Clan isn’t powerful enough to do that.

The old man’s heavy words lingered, far too heavy for the lips of a dying shapeshifter. Nikolai’s fist flexed, itching to crush his throat, but something in Velran’s tone made him pause.

"...My father wouldn’t fall to cowards who stab from the shadows," Nikolai said coldly. "And neither will I."

Velran’s laugh sounded like a ragged whisper, each chuckle flecked with blood. "You don’t understand... it’s not about winning.... it’s about the erasure of your kind, your bloodline. All of it!"

However, the moment he tried to speak further, his body started convulsing.

The crowd gasped as black veins spread suddenly across Velran’s skin, racing from his broken arm to his chest. His eyes bulged while clawing at his throat with a gargled choke, skin blistering with a searing steam, as if something inside him devoured him alive.

"What—?" Nikolai stepped back instinctively.

Velran’s voice cracked into a final wheeze. "...Too late... little wolf... they are coming for you now."

With a grotesque snap, his body caved inward, bones cracked like cheap crackers as his flesh withered, and in a matter of seconds, only a husk remained with the stink of charred pork filling the pit.

Silence swept through the arena before the announcer scrambled to speak.

"V-Velran has... fallen! The winner—once again—the Black Wolf, Nikolai Volkov!"

The simple crowd roared back to life with the announcement, adapting to the situation with help to the announcer’s call. They chanted Nikolai’s name, stamping their feet so hard the stands rattled, but Nikolai barely heard them.

He stared at the corpse for a moment, pondering his words.

No poison he knew worked like that, and no beast’s transformation ended that way. That was deliberate—a message or a cleanup.

Someone hadn’t wanted Velran to talk any longer.

Nikolai spat into the sand, the taste of blood still thick in his mouth. "Cowards."

However, it also made the warnings of Velran more realistic, causing Nikolai’s current blood rush to fade.

Forget it...

Behind him, attendants scrambled into the pit to clean the husk away, averting their eyes from the victorious wolf as if afraid of being noticed. He left to avoid giving them trouble as the scent of unease and fear lingered around them.

Someone was pulling the strings...

A person or group strong enough to match the Eastern Clans.

As the gates groaned open, Nikolai turned without another word, his aura simmering low but restless. He walked into the tunnel, each step leaving bloody prints across the stone.

In the dark, alone with the echo of the crowd behind him, he muttered:

"Erase me? Try it."

His fists tightened, with claws shimmering in the dithering light, a hunger for conflict growing inside him since attacking the SSS in the tram graveyard.

Since the Silver Clan wanted trouble.

Then he would answer in kind.

The tunnels were damp, smelling of rust and blood. Nikolai’s footsteps echoed against the stone as he walked alone, cloak half-draped over his shoulders. The roar of the crowd behind him had already begun to fade, swallowed by the dark.

But Velran’s words clung to him like a curse.

They’ll erase you. Not just you. Your bloodline.

He clenched his fists, claws biting into his palms. Nikolai’s blood sizzled where it hit the floor, the poison still gnawing inside his veins. His regeneration was sluggish and bitter. Every breath carried a metallic sting.

"Old bastard..." he muttered, but the words rang hollow.

Velran fought like a man who expected to die, as if he had nothing left to lose; he inflicted the most damage he could against Nikolai.

That bizarre smile, half glee, half resignation, lingered in Nikolai’s mind with each step through the tunnels.

The guards stationed at the doors avoided Nikolai’s glance.

He shrugged, able to smell their fear, a bitter scent that wasn’t pleasant.

"Did you see his last attack!?"

"Yeah... he tore out Velran’s throat like a true beast."

Their voices echoed through the basement as Nikolai found the exit.

The night air hit him as the back gates creaked open. Cold rain pattered against his skin, each drop hissing faintly against the black aura that still flickered around him. He pulled the hood low again, stepping into the shadows of Londis’ alley to find his car.

Nikolai thought it should have ended, but the moment he reached his car, a familiar face sat with its buttocks against the door.

I want to hit her...

He could see the weight of her curvy figure causing the metal to dent slightly, but her silky blonde hair in the wind and her heterochromia.

"Anya... what are you doing here—oof!"

Anya’s soft curves slammed into Nikolai’s body, pushing him back as she wrapped both hands around his back and leaned into his neck. "Nikolai~ you were so amazing tonight."

He didn’t push her away and let the pressure of her hug envelop him, dimming the thoughts that simmered under his skin and changing them into another kind of heat, a pleasant warmth that gathered in his abdomen.

"You look pretty tonight, Anya."

Nikolai’s hands scooped around her waist, cupping her buttocks with both hands. The warmth of her skin spread as he lifted her off the ground and onto the hood of his car, with a low thud.

"D...Do... I?" Anya’s shy face nuzzled his neck, eyes peeking at Nikolai’s face secretly as he caressed her back.

"I hope no one else saw how sexy you look, it makes me jealous."

The young vampire blushed, her body still sensitive about her actions in the private box alone... addicted to the sight of Nikolai, who looked so amazing inside the arena.

Now he hugged her tight, and the heat grew once again.

"I made sure to keep my coat fastened...." Anya’s long fur coat slipped down her shoulders as she revealed the prize inside.

"Good..." He grumbled while gazing down at her deliciously deep cleavage and the way her clothes clung to her frame. "Anya... You’re too beautiful."

Anya’s blush deepened when his words rumbled in her ear, but instead of shying away, she pressed her chest into him, lips brushing his neck. "Then, keep me for yourself, push me down and ravish me like the big bad wolf you are."

Nikolai chuckled low, his breath heavy against her ear as his palms slid down her thighs and lifted her easily from the hood. "Careful with words like that. You’ll find I take them seriously."

"Good," she whispered, biting her lip as he carried her, the hem of her dress riding high enough to tease the curve of her hips and reveal something missing... a small flicker of golden hair.

"You dirty little leech...."

The Supra’s door swung open with a hard tug. He slipped her inside, setting her down on the passenger seat, his hand dragging slowly across her thigh, brushing against the soft petals before pulling back.

Her legs trembled from his touch, her head thrown back into the seat with a soft groan. "Seatbelt," he muttered, his tone sharp even with the grin tugging his lips. She obeyed with a sultry hum, snapping it across her chest, the strap framing her cleavage.

The engine roared when he turned the key, tires spitting water as the car shot onto the street. Neon lights streaked across the windshield, rain slapping the glass.

Anya leaned closer, her perfume thick and sweet, her voice a whisper only he could hear. "You know, Nikolai..."

He was about to tell her, "You shouldn’t tempt me while driving."

However...

The moment they reached a red light, Anya unclipped her seatbelt, and with a skilled flick of her wrist, she unzipped his pants. And with a smooth movement, her hot breath blew against his exposed shaft.

"Too late."