Chapter 379: A Blood-Soaked Night

[Music recommendation: Gealdýr - Druí]

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When night descended and the city of Astoria fell asleep... back in the abandoned warehouse where the fight had taken place hours ago, men sat on the dirty floor, still trying to come to terms with the fact that a seventy-year-old man had done this to them.

Some were treating each other’s wounds, while others were drinking themselves into numbness just to get through the night.

Just then, one of the men noticed a silhouette standing at the entrance.

"Hm? Am I losing my mind, or is someone standing there?" he spoke up, wincing as he touched a dark bruise on his jaw.

The others followed his gaze, their eyes narrowing into the darkness.

There was indeed someone standing there. With only a couple of dim overhead bulbs flickering inside and total darkness outside, it was impossible to see the intruder clearly.

"Oi! Who goes there?" one of them yelled out.

Silence greeted them.

Another man shouted, "Hey! Get lost if you don’t want trouble!"

"That’s right, shoo! Before we make you regret coming here!"

But their threats did nothing.

Instead, the silent figure began taking slow, uneven steps into the warehouse, making the men scowl at his audacity.

"Hey! Are you fucking deaf?!" another man barked.

As the figure moved closer under the dim lighting, they noticed his gait was unnatural and uneven. He was swaying slightly, his chest heaving as he panted heavily.

"Looks like some drunkard wandered off the street," their leader muttered, holding a makeshift ice pack against his bruised face. Keeping his eyes fixed on the approaching man, he ordered, "Rock, go deal with him. I don’t have the patience for this tonight."

"Right away, boss." Rock got to his feet and picked up a thick wooden stick.

He walked towards the stranger, swinging the weapon casually against his palm."Hey, did you not hear me? Get the fuck away from-" He trailed off as he drew closer.

Something was deeply wrong with the man’s posture. His head hung unnaturally low, his shoulders twitching.

Rock’s brow furrowed in unease. "What... what the hell is wrong with you?"

As he stepped into arm’s reach, he finally caught the broken, raspy whispers slipping from the man’s mouth.

"Hun...gry..."

"What did you say?" Rock took another cautious step closer.

"So... hun...gry..."

"What are you on, man?" A sudden chill ran down Rock’s spine.

Raising the wooden club defensively, he spat, "Get out before I break your legs."

A low, guttural growl suddenly rumbled from the stranger’s throat, freezing Rock in his tracks.

Right then, before anyone could even register what was happening, something shot out from the man’s back so fast that it appeared as nothing more than a blur.

The next instant, the buff man named Rock was torn into a bloody pulp, splattering large amounts of blood all over the entrance.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Terrified screams erupted as the remaining men dropped their bottles and scrambled to their feet, in a flurry to find weapons or exits.

But they were already too late.

The stranger’s shadow writhed and warped on the floor before dozens of tentacle-like appendages burst from his body.

An animalistic, bone-chilling screech tore from his mouth, swallowed whole by the chorus of shrieking men.

.....

Meanwhile, back at the Ross Mansion...

Nina, who had just returned from a soirée hosted by one of her friends, walked into the quiet mansion. Her maid stepped forward to take her coat as Nina asked, "Where is Alec?"

"Master went to bed early tonight, Madam," the maid replied dutifully.

"I see. And Owen?" Nina inquired.

"The young master is also in his room," the maid answered.

"Alright." Nina nodded before making her way toward the master bedroom.

It was a surprise to her that her husband had turned in so early. "Seems like he was in an exceptionally bad mood today," she murmured to herself, assuming he had likely drunk himself to sleep.

Opening the door carefully, she slid inside.

The room was shrouded in darkness, the only faint light filtering through the sheer window curtains.

She turned on her phone’s flashlight and made her way toward the cozy lounge area, confirming her suspicion. An alcohol bottle lay nearly empty on the coffee table beside an overturned glass.

Releasing a quiet sigh, she slipped into the bathroom to change into her nightgown.

When she returned, she quietly slid beneath the covers next to her husband, who was lying with his back facing her.

Exhaustion finally overtook her, and she closed her eyes.

However, barely five minutes later, she felt something warm and sticky dampening the sheets beneath her.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. Reaching down, her fingers brushed against the wet surface.

Nina’s eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly. "What on earth is this..."

With the room still dark, she could barely make out any details, but she threw the covers off her legs.

In the faint moonlight, she saw a massive, dark stain spreading across the white bedsheet.

"A-Alec, what the hell! Did you spill wine on the bed?!" Nina demanded, but her husband remained sound asleep.

Impatience turning to dread, she reached over to the bedside table and clicked on the lamp.

As warm light flooded the room, Nina turned toward him. "Alec... wake-"

The words choked in her throat.

Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the deep red pool spilling outward from beneath her husband’s torso.

With her heart hammering against her ribs, her trembling hands gripped the edge of the blanket and pulled it back.

The moment the covers fell away, a bloodcurdling scream tore from her throat so loud and piercing that, one by one, the lights throughout the silent mansion flickered on.

.....

It must have been three in the morning when Aliana’s phone began to vibrate on her nightstand.

Gavriel’s eyes snapped open immediately, though Aliana remained fast asleep beside him. He wondered who could be calling at such an ungodly hour, but he refrained from waking his wife, who had spent most of the night tossing and turning restlessly before finally falling asleep. After a few buzzing vibrations, the phone fell silent.

Moments later, however, it began to ring insistently once more. Deciding to check it himself, Gavriel attempted to rise from the bed, but Aliana stirred and slowly blinked open her eyes.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, her voice heavy with sleep. "What is that..."

Her gaze met Gavriel’s in the dark, and he answered softly, "It’s your phone."

She turned toward the nightstand, then rolled lazily across the bed to reach for it. Staring at the glowing screen, her frown deepened. "Dad? Why would he call this late?"

Pushing herself upright, she leaned against the headboard and pressed the phone to her ear. "Dad? What’s wrong?"

Alester’s voice spoke on the other end.

As she listened, Aliana’s eyes widened in sheer shock.

"What?" she breathed.

Slowly she turned her gaze back to Gavriel who had caught every word Alester spoke from across the line and a subtle flicker of surprise crossed his features.

Aliana swallowed hard before replying, "I... I’ll be right there."

As the call ended, she lowered the phone and with that the last remnants of sleep vanished from both their minds.