In the rugged, untamed southern lands of Dracyra, where the earth itself seemed to growl with a primal ferocity, lay the domain of the werewolf clans.

Among these clans, the Darkmoon Clan reigned supreme, its authority unchallenged and absolute.

However, within this hierarchy, the Bloodclaw Clan held a notorious reputation, feared for their ferocity and ruthlessness, but they were still under the command of the Darkmoon Clan. action

Nestled in a secluded part of these lands, the Bloodclaw Clan’s territory was marked by an expansive network of caves, each echoing with the howls and growls of its inhabitants.

The biggest of these caves had been transformed into the abode of the clan’s chief, Tarok.

This particular cave was unique, crafted from the colossal remains of a scaled beast, its bones and hide serving as the foundation and walls of this imposing structure.

Outside this cave, Tarok lounged in a display of hedonistic indulgence, his muscular, red-skinned figure ravaging a woman by force who was covering her face as if in shame, pain and fear.

Tarok had a satisfied grin as he sighed in pleasure, “How long are you going to hide your pretty face? Blame your man for being too weak. He didn’t even last 2 moves before dying like trash. It’s in your best interest to worship me before I get bored of you. Ooongh!”

The woman was muffling her moans as tears trickled down her cheeks while his dirty claws were roaming all over her curves.

But under his intimidating presence, there was nothing she could do to escape her fate.

Suddenly, the steamy atmosphere was interrupted by an elderly voice,

“My chief,” he began, his tone serious and filled with an underlying gravity, “Forgive me for the disturbance, but this couldn’t wait,” The elderly man said. His short gray mustache twitched slightly as he spoke, his voice resonating with the weight of the impending matter.

Tarok’s irritation was palpable as he turned his attention away from the woman, his eyes narrowing at the interruption, “Elder Roku, it better be something important for you to disturb me at a time like this. You know I hate it when a good time gets interrupted,” he grumbled, his voice a low growl of annoyance.

“It’s the Darkmoon Clan. They are coming here to pay us a visit, including Chief Zoren. I have already informed the others to make sure everything looks good,” Roku said with a serious look.

Tarok, his brows knitting together in a mix of annoyance and contemplation, responded with a gruff voice, “It’s that time already for the tribute? Didn’t we already deliver the head of that bitch just weeks ago?” His frustration was evident, his tone laced with disdain, “That arrogant asshole first used the Frosthowl Clan to get the job done, and when they failed to finish it, he then used me to deliver her head to him and took the credit. What more does he want from us already?”

Elder Roku cleared his throat before replying, “You know how Chief Zoren is. He’s just trying to keep an eye on all the clans under him, including us. There’s been rising tensions between his clan and one of the four great clans in Rhogart. He probably only wants to make sure we don’t forget who our master is and that we aren’t harboring any plans of stabbing his clan in the back. You know what happened to Blackheart Clan once Chief Zoren found out they were colluding behind his back.”

Tarok’s frustration boiled over as he grumbled, “Why the ** should I get tangled in his business? We have been loyal to his clan more than anybody else. He first promised us 5% of the lands and women from the Frosthowl Clan as long as I brought him her head. And now he’s trying to establish dominance without even fulfilling his word. If only we had the right backing, we wouldn’t have to eat his **. We should-”

*Rumble!*

Their conversation was suddenly disrupted by an ominous, growing rumble from the sky.

Both Tarok and Roku and everyone around them, their expressions morphing from confusion to alarm, turned their gaze upwards.

What they saw was a sight both terrifying and awe-inspiring: a crimson ball of flames, trailing fire, hurtling down from the skies directly towards their lands.

“Is that a-” Tarok began, his voice trailing off as he tried to comprehend the celestial anomaly.

But before he could finish, Roku, with urgency lacing his voice, interjected, “Chief, we have to get inside!”

The heat emanating from the descending fiery orb was oppressive, even from miles away.

Without hesitation, Tarok, Roku, and everyone dashed into the safety of their adobe, just as the blood-red comet made its earth-shattering descent.

Elsewhere, the men and women of the Bloodclaw Clan, who had been going about their daily routines like mating under the sun or torturing their enemies, stopped dead in their tracks.

Faces turned skyward, they witnessed the fiery streak rapidly approaching. Panic ensued as the reality of the imminent danger dawned on them.

“Get inside and raise your barriers!” a clan member bellowed, his voice resonating with urgency.

The clan, heeding the warning, scrambled towards their caves for cover. But time was not on their side for some.

*BOOOOM!!*

With a colossal boom that reverberated across the landscape, the crimson ball impacted the earth.

The explosion was cataclysmic, unleashing a shockwave that obliterated everything in its path.

Trees were incinerated instantaneously, rocks shattered under the immense force, and craters pockmarked the land, transforming the once-familiar terrain into a desolate, smoky wasteland.

The earth quaked violently under the impact, as if the very realm was quivering in fear. The air was thick with smoke and debris, clouding the once-clear skies of the domain of this clan.

In the midst of this landscape transformed into a nightmarish scene, Tarok and his contingent of Bloodclaw warriors cautiously but quickly approached the massive crater that now marred their lands.

They wondered if some meteor fell from the skies, though they were still highly wary since they were picking up an unfamiliar scent that made them feel uneasy.

The aftermath of the frightening impact was a scene of devastation: their once proud and fearsome domain was reduced to rubble and ash.

The air was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of scorched earth.

His clan members, those who had survived the initial blast, tentatively emerged from their caves.

Their expressions were a mix of terror and disbelief, many coughing violently as they tried to clear their lungs of the acrid fumes.

The less fortunate ones had been obliterated instantly, not even having a chance to seek shelter. Even the barriers that had been their last line of defense crumbled under the sheer force of the explosion, crushing those who had sought refuge within.

Only those far from the crater managed to somehow survive behind the shattered barriers.

Elder Roku, his face etched with worry, coughed through the lingering smoke, “Thank the devils, we were under the protection of the Darkmoon Clan’s barriers. Otherwise, none of us would have survived this,” he remarked, his voice heavy with the gravity of their narrow escape.

“Shut up. There is somebody standing there,” Tarok interrupted sharply, pointing towards a figure emerging from the smoke.

He signaled his warriors to ready their weapons, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and alert.

The werewolves formed a defensive circle around Tarok, poised for battle. Through the dissipating smoke, a tall, muscular figure became increasingly visible. His long black hair fluttered in the breeze, creating an almost mystical aura around him.

But it was the figure’s eyes that held everyone’s attention. As he lifted his head, a pair of glowing crimson eyes met theirs, radiating a power that seemed to pierce through to their very souls. The intensity of that gaze sent involuntary shivers down Tarok’s spine.

“A vampire? Who the ** is he?” Tarok muttered under his breath, his usual confidence shaken.

The tension in the air was palpable as Elder Roku’s whispered warning to Tarok resonated with a sense of impending doom, “We shouldn’t probably approach him,” Roku hissed anxiously, “Something about him feels wrong, and he reeks of danger. If he really was the one who crashed on our land, provoking him could be our last mistake.”

Despite the gnawing sense of danger, Tarok’s rage boiled over at the sight of his ravaged domain, the loss of his warriors too great a wound to his pride.

Only he knew how hard he struggled to nurture these warriors and the resources he spent to keep up with the other clans.

Struggling to contain his fury, he pointed a trembling finger at the mysterious vampire, “Blow up that bloodsucker! Let him explode into bits for messing with our clan!” he commanded, his voice laced with venom.

The werewolves around him, having anticipated Tarok’s orders, swiftly unleashed a barrage of massive, energy-charged cannons towards the vampire’s location.

“Wait, wait! Have you thought this through?” Elder Roku asked with a terrified look.

Tarok pushed him away and said, “There is nothing to think through. I can smell that bloodsucker’s killing intent. We will slow him down until Zoren gets here or is he going to kill us all first!”

Elder Roku gulped as the air crackled and sizzled as the lethal projectiles hurtled through the space, each impact erupting into a fiery explosion upon striking the vampire or the ground near him.

The werewolves watched with bated breath as the scene before them turned into a chaotic inferno of flames and smoke.

The explosions were massive, powerful enough to obliterate anything within their radius. As the flames began to die down and the smoke cleared, the werewolves strained their eyes, expecting to see nothing but ashes or the charred remains of the vampire.