The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna

Chapter 52: Chapter 52 Vampire Lord

As soon as Zion wrenched open the sewer gate, a blood-curdling screech echoed from the top of the tower. The vampire lord, disturbed from his slumber by the ear-splitting explosions, was furious. His ears rang with the aftershock of the blasts, and he felt as though he were losing his hearing. Even with his exceptional senses, he couldn’t make out Zion’s actions or Greg’s movements. The ringing would linger for just a moment, but it was enough to leave him disoriented.

His screech reverberated across the battlefield, freezing everyone in their tracks. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button on the entire field.

”Our lord, he’s coming!” one of the female vampires exclaimed with twisted delight. Alpha Damon immediately knew they are fucked, and despite the realization that he had provoked the vampire lord, he couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. This would be the first time the vampire lord would appear in the flesh. The vampire lord had always viewed the werewolves as nothing more than savage creatures—lowly, dirty dogs.

Alpha Damon ceased his bombardment, carefully stowing the remaining explosives. They were too valuable to waste now. Better to save them for the perfect moment—if anyone could take down the vampire lord, it would be an explosion strong enough to obliterate him completely. After all, no matter how fast or potent the vampire lord’s healing abilities were, surely he couldn’t regenerate if he was torn to pieces, could he?

Sure enough, as the screech from the vampire lord echoed into the night, a figure cloaked in black ascended into the sky. But what they had mistaken for a cloak turned out to be the lord’s massive, inky-black wings. They unfurled, far larger and darker than those of any normal vampire, shrouding him completely in their ominous shadow.

Zion seized the opportunity and sprinted toward the inner sanctum of the palace. After five minutes of running, he found himself in the heart of a maze-like labyrinth within the sewers.

This intricate network had been intentionally designed by the palace’s architect to disorient and trap any intruders. Even if someone managed to breach the outer defenses and find their way into the sewers, they would never reach the palace’s heart. The labyrinth was a deadly maze, meant to ensure that anyone who dared enter would get lost and perish in the darkness, with no chance of escape. Only the owner of the palace possessed the blueprint to navigate it.

But Zion didn’t falter. He stood still for a moment, taking in his surroundings. His mind worked quickly, calculating, strategizing. He was far from afraid. Instead, a sense of determination gripped him, and then, as if a spark had ignited, a plan began to form in his mind.

Sniff... sniff...

The faintest scent caught his attention.

As a werewolf, Zion’s sense of smell and hearing were unmatched. Even though vampires lacked sweat glands and didn’t produce the usual body odors, they still carried a distinct scent—one that could not be mistaken.

The low-ranking vampires, in particular, reeked of blood, a pungent odor that clung to them. Unlike werewolves, who bathed regularly, the lower-tier vampires rarely bothered with cleanliness. Their bodies were unkempt, smelling of stale blood and urine, a stench that was almost suffocating.

On the other hand, the high-ranking vampires, with their impeccable grooming habits, smelled of nothing but faint, artificial perfumes—often the only sign of their higher status.

Zion, however, wasn’t concerned with the high-ranking ones right now. He focused on the bloodstained scent and the strong smell of dried urine of the low-ranking vampires. That was his guide through the labyrinth.

Even if he reached a dead-end, all he had to do was retrace his steps and find another crossroad. His exceptional memory helped him keep track of the maze-like twists and turns, forming an invisible map inside his mind.

He knew that when the werewolves took over the palace, he could pass on the map to the commander, giving them an advantage over the labyrinth’s confusing structure. It took Zion a quarter of an hour to figure out the exit, but the time was well spent. The path ahead was now clear.

Zion sprinted up the stairs, his heart pounding as he reached the dark corner at the top. He fumbled around desperately, searching for anything that might indicate a hidden trigger for the mechanism to open the door.

His hands brushed the stone wall until, just above his waist on the right side, he felt a protruding brick. It was about five inches long, slightly raised from the surface. He pushed it in, and with a satisfying click, the brick pushed the button behind it.

Click...

Creaaaak... creaaaak...

The sound of stone scraping against stone echoed in the silence, followed by the low whirring of gears turning. Slowly, the hidden door began to grind open. Zion squinted as a sudden burst of light flooded into the room. He blinked rapidly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the brightness. As the light softened, his surroundings became clearer.

He stood behind the garderobe—the castle’s toilet. Not the throne room. Not the library. But the toilet.

Zion’s expression darkened. The architect of this castle certainly knew how to design a hidden escape route. Of all the places, who would have thought it would be here? Zion was torn between laughter and frustration. He could hardly believe it.

At least no one was using the toilet at the moment—otherwise, this situation would have been incredibly awkward.

Do vampires even pee or poop? Zion wasn’t sure. Maybe they did—after all, the putrid stench of urine in the garderobe was so strong it made his nose burn. The smell was so intense he felt like his sense of smell had gone numb. But beyond that, he didn’t detect anything else. No other foul odors. Just the sharp, acrid sting of urine.

Not wanting to subject his nose to further torment, he quickly slipped out, though he remained cautious. He checked the hallway to make sure no one was around before silently sneaking out. Then, he began climbing a nearby staircase, peeking into rooms along the way in search of the captured werewolves.

Eventually, he came across another stairwell that led up into a tower. Something about it piqued his curiosity. He knew he should keep moving—his mission came first—but before he realized it, his feet were already taking him up the steps.

He paused at the top. The tower door wasn’t fully shut; it was slightly ajar, as if inviting him to take a peek. All he had to do was push it open.

Zion hesitated.

He needed to leave. He had no time to waste.

But just as he turned to go, he heard movement—footsteps—coming from the direction he had just come from.

Zion could only curse inwardly as the sound of footsteps grew louder—two vampires were making their way up the stairs. With no time to think, he quietly pushed the door open and slipped inside the room.

To his dismay, it was nearly empty—just a bed and a single chair facing an open window. There was nowhere to hide... except behind the heavy curtains. It was a tight fit, but he managed to press his large frame into the narrow space, holding his breath.