CHAPTER 51: 51: LOSING CONTROL

"Your eyes, Nathan. What’s wrong?!" Ryder rushed forward, his voice carrying more panic than he intended. He grabbed Nathan’s shoulders, scanning his friend’s face as if searching for something invisible.

Nathan breathed heavily, his eyes glimmering with a strange exhaustion. Hah... "I’m fine. I’m fine," he reassured, though his voice lacked conviction. "I just... peeked at something I shouldn’t have." He winced, pushing himself up slowly, the movement almost reluctant.

Ryder exhaled in relief, though his brows remained furrowed. "That was close, I was getting worried that you—"

BOOM!

The sound tore through the air like a gunshot.

Aaron’s head snapped toward Nathan, his irises blooming into a deep, unnatural red. The sight of fresh blood dripping from Nathan’s eyes lit something feral in him. It wasn’t just interest—it was obsession.

Before anyone could react, Aaron’s body blurred.

In a heartbeat, Ryder was sent hurtling backward, skidding across the ground as though struck by a charging beast. Aaron’s true target—Nathan.

Nathan barely had time to flinch before a sudden, invisible force erupted around him, blasting Aaron backward.

"Aaron! What’s wrong with you?!" Alice’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and startled.

But Aaron didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His mind was gone, swallowed whole by hunger. The coppery scent of blood filled his senses until it drowned out every other thought. He didn’t just want to drink Nathan dry—he wanted to tear out his throat, drain every drop, and feast on the flesh until there was nothing left but bone.

Nathan staggered back, still shaken. "What’s wrong with you, man?!"

No answer. No recognition.

Aaron lunged again, his speed violent and unrestrained—only to be thrown back once more, the repelling force sending him rolling across the dirt.

Ryder groaned from where he was standing now, dusting himself off. "Ouch! What was that for, man? Now I’m bleeding—so not cool!"

Aaron’s head snapped toward Ryder. The blood seeping from Ryder’s cut wasn’t as intoxicating as Nathan’s, but in his haze, it didn’t matter. His hunger was all that existed.

With a feral snarl, he charged.

"Ice Prison!"

Alice’s voice rang out like a whip crack. Shards of frost spiraled into existence, locking Ryder inside a thick cocoon of ice reinforced with every last drop of her mana.

Aaron slammed into it, claws scraping and teeth bared, each impact leaving spiderweb cracks. But the prison held.

Frustration flared. His glowing crimson gaze slid to Alice.

He pounced.

A split second later, cold bit into his skin. His hand froze solid in midair, the frost spreading rapidly up his arm, locking muscle and bone in place.

Aaron roared, and in an act of sheer instinct, tore off his own arm—only to have it regenerate within seconds. Pain lanced through him, intensifying his fury.

"AARGHHH!!"

And then—he was gone. One flicker of movement, and he vanished into the wilderness, hunting for a prey he could devour.

Ryder’s voice trembled despite the safety of the ice prison. "What... what just happened?" An opening formed in the ice to let him breathe.

Alice exhaled slowly, lowering her hand. "I don’t know. But whatever it was... he was in pain."

She turned on her heel.

"Where are you going?" Nathan called after her.

"Where else? To find him."

Nathan’s expression darkened. "If I’m right... and he’s craving blood... then he’s headed for the nearest city."

"The nearest city?" Ryder groaned. "That’s several kilometers away. We’d be traveling all day."

"Then let’s hurry. Ryder—you drive!" Alice’s tone left no room for argument as she slid into the passenger seat.

"Great. Sounds fun," Ryder muttered.

"Come now, sir," Nathan said with a faint smirk, climbing in as well. "It’s on the way to the university. Think of it as... an extension of our journey."

---

Aaron reached the city an hour later. Running at full speed, the journey was nothing more than a blur of trees and empty road. The moment he crossed into the outskirts, his senses exploded—the air was heavy with the scent of blood. Thousands of heartbeats thrummed within his reach.

He stumbled into a narrow alley, gripping the wall as though it could anchor him. "Urgh..." His jaw clenched. He tried—tried—to hold back, just long enough to open a rift to the sanctuary, just long enough to find blood that wasn’t human.

"Hey, boss! Guess who wandered into our turf."

The voice was mocking, nasal. A man stepped forward, spiky red hair catching the dim light. A lip ring glinted when he smirked, and the vampire tattoo on his hand made his grin seem all the more ironic.

From deeper in the alley, a man in a spotless black suit straightened. His scarf hung loosely over one shoulder, and a toothpick rolled lazily between his teeth. His air wasn’t that of a street thug—it was worse. Controlled. Calculated. Mafia.

"Oh?" the boss chuckled. "Looks like we’ll strike it rich tonight. Two women for trafficking, a mother and daughter... and now a man to sell for parts. Or maybe... other uses. Either way, it’s a win."

"Boss! He’s a pretty one. The noble ladies would love him," another man—thin, twitchy, with a missing little finger—added, eyes raking over Aaron.

"Bring him over," the boss ordered, voice turning sharp. "Before the Guardians show up to ruin our fun."

The red-haired thug—Spike—strode up and grabbed Aaron’s arm, squeezing hard. "Alright, pretty boy, come with us. We’ll make it painless if you don’t resist. Otherwise..." He grinned, "...a few bruises might change your mind."

Aaron’s lips barely moved. "...Run... if... you... don’t... want... to... die."

Spike scoffed. "There’s nothing a loser like you can do to me." He shoved him forward. "Now move before I—"

"SPIKE!"

The shout came too late.

Aaron moved with inhuman speed, seizing Spike and sinking his fangs deep into his neck. The alley filled with a wet, sickening sound as Aaron drank, ignoring the frantic pounding of fists against his back.

"Let go!" Little Finger slammed a steel pipe against Aaron’s ribs. The blow barely registered.

Spike’s body grew limp. Aaron kept drinking until the last drop was gone—then, with a slow, terrible precision, he tore into the corpse. The heart. The lungs. The spleen. The liver. Every vital organ disappeared between his bloodstained teeth, leaving only the brain untouched.

Little Finger stumbled back, pale. "What the fuck is he?!"

Aaron dropped what was left of Spike onto the cold pavement. His eyes burned crimson as they swept over the remaining gangsters.

He wasn’t full. Not even close.

And the rest of his meal... was standing right in front of him.