Chapter 118
Chapter 118
Deckard
“Who the hell are you? Show yourself if you dare!” I snarl.
A sharp whisper cuts through the night as darkness thickens around me. Then comes the chilling howl of wolves, followed by the clash of fangs and claws.
“Attack!” I command,
But before I can charge forward, a violent whirlwind erupts around me, forcing my eyes to narrow against the storm. Struggling to keep my vision clear, I spot him–the Scarface man.
He stands before me, monstrous and hideous, a jagged scar acrossone half his face, making it difficult to know what he truly looks like.
He Just as tall as me, his presence would terrify any ordinary man. But I am not ordinary. Now I understand why Dane was spewing nonsense–what a coward.
Yet, something about this man feels disturbingly familiar.
“It’s me, little bro.”
The words echos through a storm. We stand face to face, the whirlwind raging around us, while the sounds of battle echo in the distance.
I glare at him, my blood boiling. “I am not your brother,” I growl. “And when I’m done with you, you’ll know just how little I really am.”
“Oh, you don’t recognize me? Of course, you don’t!” he sneers. “It’s me, little brother. It’s Darth!”
His laughter is wild, manic, almost inhuman.
At that moment, it seems as if the sky itself reacts to his words, thunder rumbles, and a jagged streak of lightning flashes across the darkness.
“That’s impossible,” I scoff. “Darth is dead.”
“Oh, you wish I was.” His voice drips with venom. “You have everything that belongs to my father, everything that should have been mine. But it is truly me,
Deckard.”
“No!” I roar, summoning fire into my hands. Fury surges through me, and without hesitation, I launch at him with a burning strike.
But before my fist can make contact, he vanishes. Disappearing into thin air–right into the raging whirlwind that surrounds
- me.
Then, from within the storm, she appears. A woman, her lips moving in a steady chant.
My chest tightens. The Scarface man has turned to dark magic.
Flames erupt from both my hands now, scorching hot, feeding off my rage. I close my eyes, but I can still hear her. The whispering. The mumbling.
My fire grows, raging higher, breaking through the whirlwind… yet that voice–her voice–gets to me. There’s something about it, something crawling under my skin, slipping into my mind.
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Chapter 118
And I don’t like it.
The woman’s mumbling continues–words 1 don’t understand, yet they seep into my mind like venom
Suddenly, images flood my vision, images that stab deep into my soul. My childhood. My pain.
That day. The plane crash.
I see it all again–my father’s mutilated body, the twisted wreckage of the plane, flames licking at the shattered remains. 1 see myself, just a little boy, wailing in terror. And I see him–Darth. My older brother, so desperate to prove he was strong enough to handle the situation.
I remember begging him not to leave me. Clutching his arm, pleading with him to stay, to not abandon me in the wreckage among the dead–the pilot, the cabin crew, our father. Their bodies broken, lifeless. The air thick with the sickening scent of burning metal and blood.
But he left.
Out of fear, I hid under a tree, forcing myself to keep my distance from the wreckage. I couldn’t bear to look at the corpses. I sat there, trembling, waiting. All day, I waited for Darth to return.
But he never did.
Nightfall came, swallowing me in darkness. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but fear was worse. I sobbed for my mother, for anyone. The night creatures began to stir–rustling, hissing, creeping closer.
And I knew.
Staying under that tree wasn’t safe.
Returning to the plane was my best option. It offered shade, shelter, and places to hide from the night creatures.
Even though the thought of going back inside terrified me, I forced myself to do it.
That night was pure terror. Shadows moved in the corners of my vision, shifting, lurking–watching. Every time I closed my eyes, it felt like something would tap me awake, something unseen, something waiting. Sleep never came.
Morning arrived, but my brother didn’t.
By then, hunger clawed at my insides, relentless and unforgiving. Desperate, I scavenged the wreckage of the plane for food, finding only food–but it was barely enough.
Because I was no ordinary werewolf. I was special, more powerful than most, and that meant my body demanded more. My hunger wasn’t just physical; it was supernatural. I always needed the largest portions of food to sustain me.
So when I found food, I devoured it all without hesitation, without thinking of the consequences.
Without thinking of what I would eat if I stayed here for days.
And that is exactly what happened.
Hunger struck again before the next day even arrived. My blood burned, instincts sharpening–I needed to hunt.
The next day as night fell, I scanned the darkness for prey, my stomach twisting in pain. But then, a low, guttural growl cut through the silence.
I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t care.
All I knew was that I needed food.
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Chapter 118
Then, I sensed movement–something runding toward me at an unnatural speed. My heart pounded as I turned, expecting a small animal, maybe a deer
But it wasn’t
Terror slammed into me
A brad–a massive lioness–charged at me, her golden fur barely visible in the dim moonlight. She was fast, impossibly fast, moving like a blur.
Before my body could react, before my legs could align with my brain’s desperate commands to run, she pounced,
I hit the ground hard, my scream ripping through the night.
The lioness snarled, her breath hot against my skin as she sank her claws into my chest. Pain exploded through me. I thrashed, crying out, my hands scrambling for anything to defend myself.
With every ounce of strength, I shoved her off and crawled away, my heart hammering, fear clouding my thoughts.
But she wasn’t done.
With a feral roar, she lunged again, her claws raking down my back. A fresh wave of agony tore through me, and I screamed, the pain unbearable.
Then–something inside me snapped.
My body jerked violently,
And everything changed.
Uncontrolled spasms wracked my body, violent and relentless. It felt like I was convulsing, my muscles seizing with raw, untamed energy. Heat surged through me, burning from the inside out.
The lion lowered its head, its fangs bared, ready to sink into my open wound. But the moment it tasted my blood, it recoiled, leaping back with a startled growl.
I was still trembling, my body vibrating uncontrollably, and I could feel the heat radiating from my skin like an inferno.
Yet, the lion didn’t flee
It lingered, pacing, watching me with wary eyes before mustering the courage to strike again. It lunged, determined to finish what it started.
But this time, I burned hotter.
A strangled bark of fear escaped the beast as it stumbled back. Its instincts screamed at it to run, but it hesitated.
That hesitation was its last mistake.
A wave of fury unlike anything I had ever known surged through me. My body moved before my mind could catch up, rising slowly from the dirt. Fire ignited within me–my rage manifesting into something unstoppable.
The lion backed away. Its ears flattened. It knew.
It knew I was no longer prey.
But I didn’t let it escape.
I chased it through the forest, fueled by wrath, by hunger, by something primal clawing its way to the surface. The hunt was
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Chapter 118
over in seconds. With one brutal strike, I tore its head from its body, the mutilation swift and merciless.
Dragging the carcass back to the wreckage, I used my fire to prepare it for dinner.
For three days, I survived on lion meat. But my search for Darth never stopped.
Every night, I returned to the plane, trying every telephone, every signal, leaving desperate messages for help.
But help never came.
And neither did my brother.
I don’t know how many days passed before help finally arrived, pulling me out of that bloody forest.
I told them about Darth. They sent men to search for him.
But they never found him.
The next memory struck me like a dagger to the chest–the one that finally shattered me.
Morning light filtering through a room.
My mother, lying motionless on the bed.
48%
I sat beside her, small and helpless, my tiny hands clutching at her still body, shaking her, begging her to wake up. But she was cold. Lifeless.
In this vision, I wasn’t just remembering–I was there, watching my younger self sobbing, pleading. My mother, once so radiant, now a ghost of herself.
And then I saw it.
The single tear, frozen at the corner of her eye. She was poisoned.
She had died in pain.
She didn’t deserve this.
The weight of it all–the loss, the betrayal, the rage–boiled over inside me.
And in the middle of this battle, I exploded.
田
