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Tarok was fuming, his emotions boiling over as blood and saliva mixed together and continued to spill out of his mouth.

His eyes were bloodshot but the moment he looked into those cold yet fiery crimson eyes, all he could see was a reflection of his own despair.

Broken and desperate, he gritted his teeth and managed to utter, “W-Why… are you doing this…to me?” His voice was laced with fear and confusion, seeking some semblance of reason after witnessing his clan getting destroyed.

Raziel’s voice, cold and devoid of any emotion, answered, “You don’t get to ask that question after killing my people. You may not remember their faces, but I am sure the name ‘Selene’ rings a bell in your mind,” His words were like a dagger, aimed precisely to evoke a certain memory.

The mention of Selene caused a flicker of realization in Tarok’s eyes. His mind raced, trying to connect this monstrous bloodsucker to Selene’s coven, but he failed to recall anyone of this monster’s caliber associated with her.

In his growing panic, Tarok blurted out a desperate defense, “Y-You don’t understand. I was only a brute who carried out the kill order. I-It was the Darkmoon Clan who wanted her head, and I merely delivered it. Please…let me go. Y-You got the wrong man.”

Raziel’s response was chilling, a mere whisper that carried the weight of impending doom, “The Darkmoon Clan? It seems like I have to extend my plan,” His words sent a shiver down Tarok’s spine, but Tarok couldn’t help scoffing inwardly.

Does this fool really think he can take on the Darkmoon Clan?

However, Raziel’s next words shook off Tarok’s thoughts, “As for you, I am going to let you go…” Tarok’s face lit up with a glimmer of hope, thinking perhaps this **er was truly an idiot, not that he wanted to complain.

“…to the pits of Tartarus,” But Raziel’s next words extinguished that hope mercilessly. The finality in Raziel’s voice was unmistakable.

Tarok’s relief turned to horror as he realized his fate was sealed, “NOOO!!!” His scream echoed across the decimated landscape.

And in the next few minutes, the air became thicker with the scent of charred flesh and blood.

Tarok’s torso, impaled on a thick rod, was a gruesome sight, reflecting the horror of his final moments. All his limbs, his eyes, ears, and tongue appeared to have been torn away slowly while making sure he wouldn’t die right away.

As Raziel stood there, his palm ablaze with crimson flames, he appeared almost contemplative, the firelight dancing in his eyes.

He tossed the ball of flames casually at Tarok’s corpse, watching dispassionately as it was consumed by the fire.

He briefly closed his eyes as he listened to the flames eating away at whatever was left of Tarok.

But the moment was abruptly shattered as Raziel’s eyes snapped open, and with preternatural speed, he vanished, reappearing some distance away.

*Boom!*

A massive dark ball of energy crashed into the ground where he was standing just a second ago.

Turning, he saw the new threat: a pack of werewolves with dark blue eyes, making him recognize them as the members from Darkmoon Clan, the strongest werewolf clan in Dracyra.

He had never seen them before but he had heard notorious stories of their barbaric ways and appearance.

The leader, a bulky walking weapon, clad in dark blue armor, stepped forward.

The others bowed reverently, acknowledging his authority with a chorus of “Chief Zoren!” His presence instilled respect and fear in anyone who looked at him, and his expression was one of unbridled fury.

Zoren fixed his menacing gaze on the tall vampire before him, his voice seething with anger, “I am going to give you 30 seconds to tell me who you are and why you did this before I burn you at the stake, very slowly,” His threat was delivered with a certainty that spoke of his power and ruthlessness.

However, Raziel’s response was calm yet laced with a chilling undertone, “You won’t be in a position to hear my answer once those 30 seconds pass,” His words were confident, his stance unyielding, and his eyes shone with a lethal intent that sent shivers down the spines of those present.

“You impudent **. I am going to enjoy killing you,” Zoren said as he spat out in spite and contempt.

30 seconds later,

The landscape transformed into a scene of carnage. The Darkmoon werewolves lay decimated, their bodies reduced to pools of sizzling blood and the bits and pieces of their charred flesh scattered around.

Blood painted the ground, and the air was thick with the stench of death.

In the center of this macabre scene, Zoren found himself on his knees before Raziel, his expression twisted into one of sheer horror and shock.

After a short brutal confrontation that ended before he could realize it, Zoren found himself utterly subdued and kneeling helplessly before the looming figure of this bloodsucker.

The shock and horror etched on Zoren’s face spoke volumes of his disbelief at being so easily overpowered despite being a peak Soul Devourer himself. He could still feel the blood flowing in his veins burning through his nerves and organs.

It was even more shocking how he didn’t even know such a powerful vampire even existed in the first place.

Raziel, towering over Zoren, his eyes cold and sharp, addressed him, “You wanted Selene’s head, and you made these dogs do it for you,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain while his gaze swept over the bloodied corpses around them, then fixed back on Zoren, “Now I am going to use your severed head to make you watch from the Seven Hells as I destroy your clan as well.”

“YOU DAR—” In a swift, merciless motion, before Zoren could even growl out his rage, Raziel twisted Zoren’s head violently, snapping it to face the opposite direction.

The sudden brutality left Zoren’s eyes wide with shock and pain. Without hesitation, Raziel then ripped Zoren’s head from his body and disdainfully kicked away the lifeless torso.

As Raziel prepared to march towards the Darkmoon Clan, intent on wreaking further havoc, a thunderous yet deep voice halted him, “You will stop your bloodshed here, boy,” The command resonated with an authority that was hard to ignore.

Raziel turned to face the source of the voice and found himself looking at an imposing figure: an 8-foot-tall werewolf with pristine white fur and blood-red eyes that bore into him.

The atmosphere became tense as Raziel stood his ground, facing him.

The power emanating from him was immense, an almost palpable force that Raziel could not only feel but also sense as a looming threat.

Despite this, Raziel’s resolve did not waver, his eyes locked onto the towering figure of the werewolf.

However, Raziel’s plans for a confrontation were quickly interrupted by Drakaris’ warning echoing in his mind, “Don’t fight him. You cannot take him on…not yet,” Drakaris cautioned. The advice was clear, and Raziel understood the gravity of the situation.

“Who is he?” Raziel inquired mentally, a frown creasing his brow.

“The Moon Guardian, Kranho, from the Moonbinder Clan. They are the strongest of all, and he, even more so,” Drakaris explained, “For him to personally come here indicates he will not leave without eliminating you, recognizing the danger you pose to his kind.”

As Kranho approached, the air around them seemed to crackle with tension. His deep, calm voice resonated, “You massacred the entire Bloodclaw Clan and killed the chief of Darkmoon Clan. Did you seriously think that the consequences of doing all this won’t come back to bite you?”

Raziel, undeterred, replied firmly, “I just don’t care. But yes, I am not going to suffer any consequences, for I have suffered enough at the hands of your kind,” His voice carried a tone of defiance, even in the face of such a dangerous adversary.

The skies above them rumbled ominously with crimson lightning, mirroring the escalating tension on the ground.

Kranho’s hand began to glow with the same crimson energy, lightning dancing across his palm, “You are half right, and that is why I am going to be merciful and make your death quick,” he declared, his voice echoing with a lethal promise.

Just as he was about to get close to Raziel, Drakaris’ voice, booming and authoritative, echoed across the area, “You won’t do any such thing, Kranho.”

Kranho, momentarily halted in his advance towards Raziel, looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly upon seeing the colossal pair of crimson eyes in the skies looking down upon him, “Now it makes sense,” he murmured, his gaze shifting back to Raziel, “So you finally found someone worthy enough to be your successor. Who would have thought it would be someone so young? He must be truly exceptional.”

Drakaris’ response came with a tone of finality, “He is worthy in many ways. But now, Kranho, you will go back to where you came from.”

Despite the warning, Kranho’s demeanor remained composed as he declared, “I will leave, but only on one condition. Your successor must give his word to cease his quest for blood immediately. I will not tolerate his wish to massacre one of our great clans.”

Raziel, his fist clenched tightly, raised the severed head of Chief Zoren, his voice cold and unyielding, “You should have considered the consequences when he first targeted my people.”

Kranho, shaking his head, replied, “Boy, you have no idea what you are dealing with here,” He then looked up once more at Drakaris’ eyes, his voice carrying a warning, “Remember, the moon is watching us. You wouldn’t want to upset the balance, would you?”

lightsnοvεl Drakaris’ gaze slowly shifted to the blood moon hanging in the dark skies before turning away.

Raziel furrowed his brows, wondering why Kranho was talking about the moon, though he could feel it was something important since Drakaris seemed to go silent.

“Raziel, you have done enough,” Drakaris’ voice echoed in his mind again as he added, “You have punished those responsible for the death of your people. Any more blood you take would be just mindless deaths. There are certain consequences you cannot ignore.”

Raziel sighed inwardly as he felt Drakaris was right. He killed everyone responsible and more.

He then mentally asked, “Does this have anything to do with the moon? I don’t understand…” Raziel knew Drakaris wouldn’t even be bothered even if a hundred Kranhos were present.

But he felt Drakaris was being wary of something far and above which he couldn’t guess.

He also realized that Drakaris knew Kranho would come to stop him.

“Yes, there are some things you have yet to learn, but now is not the time to comprehend things beyond our world. For now, you should focus on what is important,” Drakaris instructed.

Raziel nodded slowly before looking at Kranho, “I will agree with your proposition, but I won’t tolerate the Darkmoon Clan or any of your kind’s existence in Dracyra. It belongs to me and my Master. You better make them move to your lands. Otherwise, I will make them,” Saying so, Raziel walked past Kranho, who slowly turned around to look at Raziel’s disappearing back as he mumbled with narrowed eyes, “The perfect omen…How unexepcted…”