CHAPTER 113: CHAPTER 112. ROXANNE’S WOLF BLOOD

From behind the throne, there’s a low growl. The growl is too low, echoing throughout the hall. The shifters, who are part of the elite imperial knights, had already been reduced in number after being obliterated by the Borgia knights. The other knights from Wyndham and various noble houses brace themselves against the imperial guard to block any entry into the palace.

"How dare you, Roxanne..." The low growl emanates from behind the throne, resonating with a primal fury.

Emerging from the shadows, a massive werewolf steps into the flickering light at the Erengard throne hall, a creature unlike any Vivianne has ever seen. Towering in height, it radiates a formidable presence.

Every sinewy muscle ripples beneath its thick, dark fur, matted and glistening with the sheen of fresh blood. This beast embodies the monstrous amalgamation of wolf and human, with powerful limbs that end in razor-sharp claws, each talon gleaming ominously as it grips the damp stones of the throne room.

Vivianne’s eyes widen in horror. Dietrich’s wolf, a creature she once knew in her past life, was a majestic being with grey and golden fur, but this one is something else entirely. The elongated muzzle is filled with jagged, yellowed fangs that snarl in a permanent display of savagery, while its glowing red eyes, filled with fierce and malevolent intelligence, pierce through the chamber, reflecting the light with an otherworldly brilliance.

Along its back, spikes protrude, adding to its nightmarish silhouette. They glint like daggers, sharp enough to shred flesh and instill a bone-deep fear in those who dare to gaze upon them.

Dark, matted fur bristles around its neck, heightening its menacing appearance. The werewolf’s bloodied maw drips with crimson droplets, painting a gruesome picture of its recent conquests.

Roxanne stepped forward with a force that shook the ground, pushing Vivianne behind her as her body shifted and surged into her full demon form. Her wings unfurled like obsidian blades, her horns gleamed with a vicious crimson sheen, and her aura swelled into something that made even the air tremble. But the wolf standing before them only threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing across the ruined hall like thunder.

"Don’t insult me with half a fight, Roxanne!" Dietrich roared. "If you intend to stand before me, then use your wolf as well! Or is that why you cling to the girl—because your beast refuses to obey you?"

His words are poison, but they’re not lies. Dietrich knew precisely why Roxanne relied on her demon blood, why she avoided the wolf that slept inside her. It was her lifelong flaw, the one weakness he always believed set him leagues above her.

Unlike most mixed-bloods who fused their traits seamlessly, Roxanne had never once gained control over her wolf side. Whenever she let it out, her consciousness slipped away entirely, leaving nothing but a rampaging creature that could not distinguish friend from foe.

It was one of the reasons she disappeared into the mountains during every rut, where she slaughtered any monster unfortunate enough to cross her path until exhaustion finally reclaimed her mind. Dietrich had always viewed it as proof of his superiority, one thing he could actually be better than Roxanne at, a flaw she could never overcome.

Roxanne clenched her jaw, fury simmering beneath her skin. "I don’t need my wolf to tear you apart," she growled, her voice deepened by demonic resonance.

But before her rage could escalate, Vivianne laid her hand against Roxanne’s arm. The touch, cool as moonlit water, slipped through the chaos inside her and anchored her with startling ease.

"You won’t lose yourself now," Vivianne whispered, her voice soft yet unshakeably firm. "Because I’m here."

Roxanne turned toward her, and for a moment the fury of battle dissolved. Even wrapped in her demonic power, her gaze softened with an overwhelming, almost painful tenderness.

Without warning she seized Vivianne’s waist, lifted her effortlessly, and crushed their mouths together in a kiss that’s raw and consuming. She devoured Vivianne’s breath like a starving creature claiming the only thing that could steady her mind. Vivianne curled her arms around her neck, grounding her with every touch, every sigh, and every whispered plea between kisses.

"Hold me," she murmured against Roxanne’s lips, and Roxanne tightened her arms as if to fuse them into one body. Their bond blazed bright enough to eclipse everything else.

Dietrich watched, and something inside him snapped. Jealousy and rage collided in his veins until he could no longer see straight. With a snarl torn from the depths of his chest, he lunged forward, intending to rip Roxanne away from the woman who dared calm her so completely.

But Vivianne didn’t even flinch. She extended one hand, fingers gliding through the air with casual grace, and Undine responded instantly. A vast barrier of shimmering blue erupted around them, the Spirit King’s power solidifying into a crystal wall. Dietrich’s attack slammed into the barrier with enough force to crack stone, yet it didn’t even quiver.

"Let her go." Vivianne whispered, feeling the pulse of energy that resonated as Roxanne’s wolf synchronized with her own.

In Vivianne’s embrace, Roxanne maintained her gaze, the connection between them palpable.

In that moment, she relinquished her hold on the primal wolf part of herself, allowing her wolf side to merge fully with the deeper demon bloodlines coursing through her. A scream erupted from her lips, not of pain, but of liberation as the powerful wolf within, long suppressed, finally broke free.

It’s a fierce and majestic transformation. The demon-werewolf hybrid within her emerged, blending elements of both natures into a stunning form. Wolf ears perked up, accentuating the sharpness of her features, while demon horns spiraled dramatically from her, commanding the attention of all who beheld her.

As the dark fur began to ripple across her lean body, intricate markings glowed with an inner light, tracing patterns that spoke of her ancestral power. The wings unfurled from her back, stretching wide to encompass the mystical energy surging around her. With each beat of her newly formed wings, her alpha dominance surged, stronger than it had ever been, fueled by the intoxicating mix of wolf and demon.

Roxanne stood transformed—fully, completely, terrifyingly—her mixed-blood form finally unleashed in all its overwhelming ferocity. The air itself seemed to fracture around her, vibrating with the impossible collision of demon magic and werewolf instinct.

Shadows curled beneath her feet like living things, while the heat of hellfire shimmered along her limbs. Every breath she exhaled came out as a low growl that rattled the palace walls.

What she did isn’t just a transformation. It’s an ascension. It’s the way she’s claiming everything she had spent a lifetime suppressing.

Maxim swallowed hard, gripping the hilt of his sword even though he knew it’s useless. Mara took a half-step forward, prepared to snatch Vivianne away at the first sign Roxanne lost herself again. They had only seen glimpses of her demon form, and even that had been enough to freeze their blood. Now she stood in the entirety of her mixed heritage—demon and werewolf instinct bound tightly into a single overwhelming force.

The sound of Roxanne’s growl rumbled through Vivianne’s ribs, a resonance so deep it made her stomach churn. Not the kind of churn that makes her scared, but the one that makes her want to submit completely, fully, the one that makes her feel her heat coming instantly. She held onto Roxanne’s arm, cold, scaled, yet undeniably familiar, anchoring her wife with nothing but her presence.

Dietrich’s wolf watched with amusement at first, but even he blinked when the full weight of her aura crashed against the hall. Still, Mara’s panic is clear. One wrong movement could turn this into a massacre.

"Take him," Vivianne said softly, her voice slipping past the roar of chaos like a gentle bell. "Release all the omegas’ souls he consumed. End his reign. My alpha... my Roxanne."

The words struck stronger than any command. Roxanne’s entire body shuddered, the demonic snarl easing into something focused and sharp. Vivianne’s voice threaded through her mind like cool water, grounding her, guiding her back from the brink of mindless destruction.

"As you wish, wife." Her answer is clear. Steady. Utterly sane.

Vivianne smiled at her, soft but confident, and slowly released her hold. She stepped back while still inside Undine’s shimmering barrier, the water spirit’s magic encasing her safely in a sphere of liquid light.

Roxanne turned toward Dietrich, no longer a woman hesitating at the edge of control but a force born for war, crafted for domination, sculpted by bloodlines that were never meant to coexist and yet did—beautifully, violently, perfectly.

"What a coward!" Dietrich snarled, lips peeling back over teeth that had long forgotten how to smile without blood behind them.

Roxanne didn’t so much as flinch. She stood tall, with every inch of her mixed-blood heritage blazing through her. Shadows curled around her like living armor from her demon side, while the raw, primal strength of her werewolf blood pulsed beneath her skin in a rhythm that felt ancient, certain, and finally hers to command.

"I’m not the one who butchered omegas and devoured their souls until I could barely remember what species I belonged to," she replied, her voice steady, rich, and completely lucid. "If there is an abomination standing here, it’s you, Dietrich de Erengard, you’re the one who carved his own damnation in the corpses of the defenseless."

The emperor bared his fangs, expecting fear—expecting hesitation, trembling, that familiar lack of control she had struggled with her whole life. But Roxanne only breathed in, deeply and calmly, as if testing the strength in her veins.

And for the first time in all the years she had lived, for the first time since she was born a contradiction of two powerful bloodlines, she felt no split, no imbalance, no wildfire threatening to consume her. Instead, she felt certainty. Coherence. Power that rolled through her like a tide she could ride instead of drown beneath.

Her demon magic no longer clawed for dominance. And her wolf no longer raged for release. They answered her, both of them, fully and obediently, as if they had only been waiting for her to claim them.

"Now, stop talking, come." She smiled as she steadied herself to fight Dietrich.