The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna-Chapter 50 The War Begins

As the warning cry echoed through the air, every werewolf tensed, bodies lowering instinctively, ready to leap skyward at a moment’s notice. Above them, the sky burned a deep crimson, stained like blood at dusk. From the distant fortress, the vampires began to emerge—dark shapes rising like a storm of bats, circling high above before sweeping toward the battlefield in a deadly wave. Their numbers were overwhelming, dense enough to blot out the red sky, turning it pitch black.

Growls and snarls rippled through the werewolves as their fangs elongated and claws extended, every muscle coiled with anticipation. Meanwhile, Zion and his team moved into position near the edge of the dark forest—an eerie stretch of trees that looked dead and charred, their twisted limbs as black as coal. The forest offered little cover, no real place to hide.

Zion knew they had to wait—wait for the clash, the chaos, the distraction. Only once the vampires fully engaged the main force could they slip through the shadows and make their move toward the fortress.

They waited, tense and still, until the black, swirling mass of vampires crashed down onto the werewolves holding the front line in the clearing.

"Ahhh!"

"You bat bastards!"

One werewolf was snatched off the ground—lifted by the shoulders as a vampire soared into the sky with him. The werewolf thrashed, claws slashing desperately at the vampire’s grip, but before he could land a blow, the creature hurled him upward into the night.

Another vampire intercepted him mid-air, catching him by the leg. The werewolf dangled helplessly, snarling in panic, only to be thrown again—this time to yet another vampire, like a ball in some airborne game. They passed him back and forth, laughing cruelly, treating him like a toy.

Then, when they grew bored, two vampires seized him—one grabbing his arms, the other his legs. Their massive wings beat in opposite directions as they pulled with increasing force.

"Stop! Stop!" the werewolf screamed in agony, feeling his limbs being stretched unnaturally apart. But instead of stopping, the vampires only grinned—and pulled harder, their muscles straining, until—

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The sickening sound of tearing flesh was swallowed by the vampires’ cruel laughter as blood rained across the battlefield. Moments later, what was left of a dying werewolf that crashed to the ground in front of an Alpha locked in combat with two vampires.

The fallen warrior tried to crawl forward—his lower half gone, entrails trailing behind. He choked on blood, reaching out for help, eyes pleading.

But before he could utter a word, a vampire landed beside him and stomped down hard on his skull, silencing him forever. Without pause, the vampire lunged at the Alpha, eager to test his strength against a true apex predator.

He chose poorly.

In one brutal motion, the Alpha tore the vampire apart, spraying blood into the air.

Realizing the mangled corpse at his feet was one of his own warriors, the Alpha threw his head back and unleashed a thunderous roar that shook the treetops.

ROAR!!!

His furious roar echoed across the battlefield, making it clear to all—he was beyond enraged, and he intended to tear through every vampire in his path.

High above, a female vampire hovered midair, sneering. She laughed mockingly at the Alpha’s fury, as if his rage were some amusing tantrum. The others joined in, their laughter echoing like chimes of cruelty. They circled the werewolves below once more, scanning for another victim to toy with.

But this time, the werewolves were ready.

A group of them, having anticipated the vampires’ descent, leapt into the air with sharpened claws bared. They met their attackers mid-flight, slashing through pale flesh. One vampire screeched as a werewolf’s claws ripped open her stomach, her blood spraying across the clearing.

Her beautiful face twisted in agony and rage.

For those who believed vampires remained hauntingly beautiful even in battle, they were sorely mistaken.

Low-ranking vampires were hideous when fully morphed—veins like sickly green and purple webs bulged under their skin, their eyes turned pitch-black, and their mouths distorted grotesquely, and their mouths protruded unnaturally, filled with rows of jagged, piranha-like teeth. It was no longer a face of seduction, but a mask of horror, made for tearing flesh and draining blood.

It was true—high-ranking vampires could be breathtakingly beautiful, so alluring they could seduce even the most powerful of leaders with just a glance. But the creatures standing before them now? There was nothing beautiful about them. They were hideous, terrifying. And when they morphed, it wasn’t for show—they meant business, and it was always deadly.

The female vampire, her stomach torn open, hovered midair and stared down the werewolf who had wounded her. Her exposed wound pulsed disgustingly, and the intestines spilling from her abdomen writhed like serpents before slithering back inside. In moments, her torn flesh knit itself back together as if nothing had happened. She tilted her head with an eerie, unnatural smile.

"Now that you’ve injured me and forced me to heal," she purred, her voice laced with menace, "I’m feeling hungry. Why don’t you be my meal for today?"

Saliva dripped from her elongated fangs as she lunged forward. Her speed was inhuman—faster than the werewolf could react. In the blink of an eye, he was snatched into the air, and her fangs sank deep into his neck. With a savage twist, she tore his throat open, letting blood rain down like crimson petals.

"Argh! You disgusting, ugly beast!" the werewolf snarled as he grabbed hold of the female vampire’s wings, trying to rip them from her back.

But he seems to have pushed the wrong button instead. Something snapped in her, and her deranged rage surged like wildfire.

Before he could even begin to tear her wings, she let out an ear-piercing shriek and, in one brutal motion, ripped his head clean off. One of the werewolf’s hands had stabbed deep into her abdomen during the struggle, but she yanked it out without flinching. Her wound began to heal instantly, the flesh sealing as if it had never been torn.

Hovering midair, she greedily drank the blood spilling from the werewolf’s corpse, her eyes wild with hunger. Once she’d drained him dry, she released his limp body.

It plummeted to the ground and hit with a sickening thud—emaciated, shriveled, completely drained of blood, like a desiccated mummy.

With that, the vampires launched their full-blown assault, turning the battlefield into a gruesome bloodbath. That was the signal for Zion and his team to move.

Hidden behind the ranks of other werewolves, they shifted into their wolf forms and began retreating, slipping away unnoticed in the chaos. To the vampires, it appeared as if they were simply fleeing—running back toward their camp to seek cover among the towering trees, which offered shelter from aerial attacks.

But unlike the sinister Dark Forest, these trees were vibrant and alive, with thick canopies of overlapping leaves that shielded those beneath.

Each wolf carried a cloth bag in its mouth as they sprinted at full speed. They ran until they were well beyond the vampires’ line of sight, far enough that their enemies lost interest in chasing them.

Then, at Zion’s silent signal, the team veered sharply off course, taking a long detour that looped wide around the battlefield. Their true destination: the Dark Forest.

And even when they reached its shadowy border, they didn’t stop. They kept running, deeper into its depths.