CHAPTER 150: BLOOD CULT

Clark POV:

I promised myself I’d never step foot in that ghost‑town again. Every gust of wind past broken windows chills me. Every silent alley whispers of something... cursed. I needed distance from it all. When Sara said she was heading back to her dorm, I took the chance to stumble my way back to my room, hoping for rest before tonight’s fresher bash—or at least a quiet moment to find Lucas and demand answers.

This campus is built like a labyrinth. Every hallway branches off into another. Every door looks identical, every sign misleads. My heart beats faster with every wrong turn as if the walls themselves are out to confuse me. Corridors branch off into identical hallways. Doors look the same. Every turn makes me feel one misstep from being lost forever.

I paused at a deserted wing—long hallway, flickering overhead lights, no sign of life. Silence so heavy it pressed against my head. I thought I heard soft breathing ahead—just when a scream sliced through the air like a blade. It froze me.

A girl’s scream. So filled with terror it felt like her soul was tearing apart. Every instinct screamed stop, but human decency—or stupid curiosity—drew me closer to the classroom door.

I pressed my ear to the cold wood. Her cries twisted, from panic to something unhinged—moans that made my stomach coil. I shook my head—didn’t want to listen—but something darker inside pushed me to look.

I forced myself to peek through the upper glass pane. Light from inside hit the scene: a girl sprawled face down on what must’ve been a teacher’s desk, her limbs unnaturally still. Around her, three figures loomed—two with dark hair I couldn’t clearly see, One was kissing her neck. But there was no tenderness—just darkness, the other one was between her legs kissing I think her inner thigh, and the third one a blonde whose jaw and posture cut through my bones. The blonde bent over her the third—the one I’ll never forget—gripped her wrist, head bent swiftly. At first, I thought he was kissing it—but then, rippling crimson dripped from his jaw. This wasn’t affection. It was feeding. His jaw glistened with blood. Was it his or someone else’s?The others hovered over her thighs—moaning—a distorted hunger twisted on their faces.

My breath caught. My heart thudded. This wasn’t cruelty—it was a carnage masquerading as... ritual? Their enjoyment sent ice through my veins.

Then, the blonde shifted. His head turned toward the door—almost as if he smelled me even before seeing me. Panic steered me back, too slow—he was going to catch me.

Suddenly, a large hand slammed over my mouth. I tumbled backward, crashing against a chest so hard I nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. Everything spun. I gasped silently into strong muscle until the pressure softened. They say curiosity killed the cat. At that moment I knew—they were right. This is where I’d die.

I tried to scream but couldn’t. A hand pressed into my back—firm, commanding. I thought: they’re finishing me here.

Then came the voice I recognized from before—the voice of that senior who had almost caught me hacking into the university systme about the Wi‑Fi security. Slow and cold:

"I told you, kid—this place doesn’t like loners."

He hadn’t even looked at the scene. He’d pulled me to him shielding me ? Or hiding something more dangerous. His body was rigid. His arms locked me gently but unwaveringly. His presence... it chilled me.

"You’ve got a very... peculiar scent, kid," he murmured so softly only I heard—then eased me backward, holding me like a frightened child whose parents promised safety.

My mind reeled. Was he sniffing me? As if I was the prize? The man behind remained expressionless, uneasy. His grip loosened, but he kept me pinned against his chest. I could hear my own heartbeat hammering.

I froze. Was he going to do what they just did? Drain me? The girl’s moans echoed in my memory. Blood pulsed hot through my ears. Then the door swung open fully—and the blond returned: jaw stained, lips crimson, and sharp pale features lit by fluorescence. If not for the blood, he’d have looked like a runway model. Now he looked predatory, satisfied, amused.

"Reed," he said, with that same haunting smile—"I see you’re already hunting."

I spun my head slightly. The same blonde I spied earlier stood fully revealed: pale skin that contrasted with deep red stains on his lips and chin, blood still dripping. If it weren’t for the gore, he might have looked like a male model. There was a smile—cold, amused, hungry.

That predator looked right at me—smiling. I didn’t breathe.

Before I had time to process, the man holding me shifted his head slightly. His hand eased from my mouth and gently curled around mine, like a parent guiding a child. I was still reeling, but he said just one sentence:

"Sorry for disturbing you guys."

Then: "Come along, kid." He guided me away from the door—or maybe away from the memory itself.

Every step was dizzying. My legs trembled. Did I flee, or was I being led into something worse?

Every nerve in my body screamed. I’d left the classroom door behind, but the scream remained squeezed in my mind. Was the girl alive? Where was Lucas? Why was Reed—Reed—leading me instead of stopping the others?

I stumbled past doors etched with unfamiliar numbers, through dim corridors lit by flickering fluorescents. Each hum sounded like a heartbeat counting down.

Reed didn’t speak again. He held my hand—with a strength I didn’t expect. His fingers were cold. We passed intersections. Shadows lengthened.

Something heavy followed my chest—a dread that we weren’t walking toward safety but deeper into unknown territory.

Eventually, he came to a wide stairwell. He kept pulling me downward, past levels I hadn’t seen in the registration maze. The scent of antiseptic and must assaulted me. Each footstep echoed loudly in the emptiness.

I glanced back once. No sign of Sara’s group. No lights from dorm windows. No Lucas. Only the faint trace of screams that had morphed into gurgles and silence.

Every step felt surreal. The smell of damp carpet invaded me. Darkness pressed close. Reed didn’t speak. He just walked, hand firmly in mine.

We passed dozens of silent doors. The hallway felt alive—walls seemed to breathe. Every corner whispered threats. I strained to look back—expecting lights, bodies, or chaos. Nothing. Only Reed, calm, guiding me forward.

We walked past old offices with doors ajar—papers scattered, strange stains. Something darker stained their floor. I kept walking, fearing each doorway—but unwilling to run.

Then ahead, a sudden light: a plush lounge I hadn’t known existed. Warm lamps. But something was off—like a plush den obscured in shadow.