My Werewolf System

Chapter 1769  Your Leader?

Above ground, in the cold, residential block, it appeared that Rowa’s powers had worked exactly as intended. The grotesque, bulging muscles and coarse fur had completely melted away, and right now, what the three Vampire Leaders were looking at was what appeared to be an ordinary, shivering human man.

They could easily tell the transformation was complete due to the drastic change in his scent. The foul, suffocating stench of a rotting, rabid beast had faded, replaced entirely by the sharp, metallic tang of human sweat and fear.

It wasn’t the scent of a regular Werewolf, but a fragile mortal. This distinct smell gave them the confirmation they needed: the person trembling on the concrete in front of them had only recently been changed, meaning his human mind was likely still somewhat intact beneath the curse.

Since the terrifying monster had been reduced back to just a weak human, Haylock lazily weakened his blood restraints. With a flick of his wrist, the crimson, blood-soaked strings dissolved into the night air, freeing the manʼs limbs.

They didnʼt bother to physically restrain him. If the terrified person foolishly tried to scramble to his feet and escape into the dark streets, Haylock was absolutely sure that any of the three vampires could react quickly enough to sever his legs before he even took a second step.

“My head... ugh, where am I?” the man groaned, his voice raspy and weak.

He rubbed his temples, slowly opening his eyes to look around the place. His vision blurred, and then he saw the three imposing figures standing over him, dressed in immaculate, expensive suits. His mind, struggling to process the nightmare he had just woken up from, desperately grabbed at the most rational explanation.

His first frantic thought was that he might have been abducted by some sort of ruthless, top-secret government agency.

“Hey! Look at me,” Rowa commanded sharply.

As the man reflexively looked up, Rowa stared straight ahead, his pupils dilating as his eyes began glowing with a deep, hypnotic crimson light. The ancient compulsion instantly washed over the mortal. At the exact same time, the man’s frantic, terrified eyes started to glaze over, turning completely dull and lifeless as his will was violently stripped away.

“Were you a Werewolf originally, before all this began?” Rowa asked, his voice echoing with an unnatural, commanding resonance.

“No,” the man answered straight away. His voice was entirely blank and monotone.

Hearing that immediate, robotic response, the three vampires shared a look. They knew that part of the hypnotic compulsion was working perfectly. He couldnʼt lie. So now, it was just time for the rest of the pressing questions.

“I didn’t fully reverse or wipe his fragile mind, so he should still have his short-term memories of everything that occurred,” Rowa explained to Haylock and Rowa, keeping his glowing eyes locked on the subject. “Whether his mortal brain can actually process and remember what horrific things actually happened to him while he was in that feral state, however, is another question entirely. The trauma might have fragmented his recall, so we might not be able to get the full, detailed answers we are hoping for. Letʼs find out.”

Rowa stepped closer, looming over the kneeling man.

“How exactly did you turn into a Werewolf, or whatever mutated thing you are? And do you remember who did it to you?”

“It was... one that was like me,” the hypnotized man answered, “I did not know the person. They were just a rabid werewolf that looked exactly like the starving monster that I was turned into. I saw him eat the rest of my family. I saw him violently kill everyone else in the room... but for me, they just bit me once, and then left me bleeding on the floor.”

“Why?” Rowa asked, stepping forward. “Why mercilessly kill all of those people just to eat them, but deliberately let you live? Why did they specifically turn you instead of finishing their meal?”

“Orders,” the man answered hollowly. “I seamlessly learnt it the exact second when the fever broke and I turned into one of them. My body constantly hurts. I was always, always so hungry, so I blindly listened to the hunger. They all listened to it.

“That’s why we aggressively eat and kill every person we see. But beneath the hunger, there is almost like a droning, absolute order echoing in the very back of our heads. It forces us to abide by two strict rules.”

The vampires leaned in, listening intently.

“After eating ten humans... we are explicitly ordered to leave one alive with a bite, to turn them and grow the pack. And secondly... if we discover an Altered during our hunt, we are absolutely not to consume them, no matter how hungry we are. We are ordered to subdue them and take them to a specific location.”

The three ancient lords looked at each other, the grim reality of the tactical situation finally sinking in. They were learning the horrific mechanics of the outbreak, and things werenʼt sounding too good.

The embedded orders they received were clearly designed to exponentially increase their numbers through a calculated infection rate of one-to-ten, while simultaneously causing maximum, widespread chaos and terror everywhere to distract the authorities. It was an apocalyptic algorithm.

“What are you doing with the Altereds?” Haylock demanded.

“I don’t know,” the man said flatly.

“What is your best, instinctual guess based on the hive mind?” Rowa pressed, his red eyes flaring brighter.

“The Altered that are taken... have eventually been turned just like us,” the man recited. “But they are vastly stronger than us, and have gained great, terrifying powers upon turning into our kind. From what I inherently know, our basic bites can’t organically turn the Altered into Gluttons. Their biology fights it off. So, we are ordered to drag them to someone who can manually force the change.”

This terrifying revelation led the group to be curious about a few more critical vulnerabilities.

“So, a bite from you foot soldiers can only successfully turn a baseline human into the exact same mindless thing as you. It doesn’t turn them into a traditional, sane Werewolf, correct?” Rowa clarified. “And youʼre stating a basic bite can’t turn an Altered into what you are, but there is someone higher up the chain who possesses the power to do so?”

Rowa narrowed his eyes. “Can a bite from your kind turn another, natural-born Werewolf into what you are? And who exactly is it that is manually changing these Altereds in the shadows?”

“We have briefly met other natural Werewolves in the city,” the man answered. “They cannot be turned by our bites either. They possess the same resistance as the Altered. If captured, they are to be taken alive to another secure location. I do not know the identity of the one who can change them.”

That was, at the very least, one small bit of good news for the alliance. They logically imagined that if high-tier Altereds and pureblood Werewolves were biologically fine from just being randomly bitten by the horde, then it would naturally be the exact same immunity for the Vampires. The virus, or curse, was meant for frail human biology.

Unless, of course, they were to directly come across whoever was masterminding this and manually forcing the terrifying mutations.

“This hidden person,” Rowa asked. “Is their name Unzoku? Have you ever heard that specific ancient name echoing in your head before? Are they the one projecting these orders and mutating these people?”

The hypnotized man slowly shook his head side to side.

“I have never heard of that name.”

This answer didn’t come as too much of a surprise to the Vampire Leaders. Because at the end of the day, Unzoku was an ancient, cautious being who was a master at hiding in the darkest shadows, concealing his presence even from them and from the other Howlers.

The fact that the regular, low-level Glutton Werewolves didn’t personally see how the captive Altereds were being changed meant they would have never been allowed to see the true, individual mastermind behind the curtain either. They were just mindless pawns.

“Then do you have a direct field leader, or a localized boss?” Haylock asked, stepping into the manʼs field of vision. “A general who is commanding this specific horde in Centrefield? A person who all of you inherently follow?”

“The closest to that...” the man said, his voice dropping slightly as if speaking the name brought him physical dread. “...would be the one called Midwak.”

**