Blood Awakening: The Strongest Hybrid and His Vampire Bride

The Lesser Blooded

The beastkin — a lesser form of werewolves, normally with mixed blood from another race. These creatures couldn’t morph into a werewolf form because their natural form carried animal and beast features from the start, but lacked the power and abilities of a hybrid.

However, there was a benefit to these weaker and low-blooded creatures.

Magic. Or at least, something like it.

No, it wasn’t firebolts or storms. Nothing destructive. Nothing impressive.

Divination. Illusion. Healing.

Small, subtle spells. Quiet things.

Their lifespan almost doubled that of a human. Their beauty lingered until eighty, and their magic deepened with age. But they weren’t made for war. Not truly. Their main tasks were as advisors, spies, seers, and aides. Sometimes lovers. Rarely soldiers.

Two such witches from the East Sector now sat in the lesser council chamber, draped in grey silk and veils, their expressions hidden beneath the soft fall of fabric. Identical down to the fingers. No one knew if they were sisters, cousins, or simply styled to match.

They didn’t speak unless prompted. But their eyes didn’t stop moving.

The third member sat across from them — the warlock from the Spine. A dull-eyed man in dark robes, his fingers ink-stained, nails yellowed from years of working with ash, blood, and bones. His name was forgettable. His allegiance even more so.

He was only here because someone paid for his seat.

The warlock from Zharin didn’t blink. His face remained unreadable, like someone too used to watching others die to react anymore. He simply leaned back into his chair, fingers tapping once on the armrest.

”A bold accusation, Lord Nikolai,” he said at last.

”It’s not bold,” Nikolai replied, voice flat. ”It’s necessary.”

The twin witches exchanged a glance. Neither spoke. The one on the left adjusted her sleeve, exposing the faint shimmer of a tattoo beneath the lace—some kind of binding glyph, likely a memory-seal. The kind used to ensure plausible deniability.

One of them finally asked, ”You believe this betrayal happened during the envoy’s journey?”

”No,” Nikolai said. ”It happened before that. The timing was too perfect. Whoever killed him knew the exact path he was taking. That kind of precision only comes from inside.”

The warlock spoke again. ”And what do you plan to do about it?”

Nikolai didn’t answer right away.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a sealed envelope, and placed it on the table. Then a second. Then a third.

Three envelopes. Each marked with a different insignia. One carried the warlock’s House Zharin seal. The other two bore simplified sigils used only inside the Moonlight Alliance—ones that could only be deciphered by their intended recipients.

He let the silence hang before speaking again.

”Each of you will receive a different report. Different troop movements. Different objectives. Nothing major. Just a small operation. A patrol. A decoy unit.”

He looked directly at the warlock.

”You’ll be told I’m sending an elite group to the Western Pass.”

Then at the witches.

”You’ll receive word of a supply drop near the old ritual grounds. In theory, a valuable shipment protected by minimal escort.”

He sat back.

”If the enemy shows up at either location... I’ll know who opened their mouth.”

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

The witches didn’t protest. They didn’t even whisper to each other. Just stared.

Finally, one of them spoke soft voice, amused.

”You play a dangerous game, Patriarch.”

Nikolai smiled faintly.

”No. This is just the opening hand.”

The warlock stared at the envelope in front of him, then slowly reached out and pulled it toward his side of the table.

”I hope your gamble pays off,” he said.

Nikolai stood, pushing the chair back with one hand.

”So do I. Because if it doesn’t...” His voice lowered, calm, almost casual.

”...I’ll stop asking questions.”

Nikolai watched them take the envelopes.

The witches left together, quiet as always, their faces unreadable beneath their veils. Neither looked back.

The warlock took longer; he folded the envelope twice and slipped it into his sleeve before standing. His expression never changed. Even as he bowed his head slightly, he didn’t blink.

”We’ll act accordingly,” he said.

”I’m sure you will.”

The door closed behind him. Finally.

Of course, he wouldn’t just trust these three with the orders; there would be enough to cover all the other lords of Moonlight.

He just couldn’t trust the beastkin with everything.

Nikolai sat alone for another minute before rising and heading to where his quarters crossed into the administrative floor. Kumiko was waiting just outside his study, as expected.

She always waited nearby when something was happening and knew when to stay quiet.

”Kumiko,” he said.

”My Lord.”

Her golden eyes fluttered before gazing at him, Nikolai enjoying the pretty view of his wife, her long blue kimono folded with an elegant floral pattern, and Kumiko’s luscious golden hair tied back into a neat braided ponytail over her shoulder. Kumiko looked more like a graceful diplomat than a warrior, but he couldn’t forget her true nature.

The air around her always felt just a little too still.

”Lord, call me whatever you want. We are married... Kumiko.”

She looked overjoyed, her nine tails thumping the ground as she took his arm, hugging him tightly. ”Mmhm... My dear Lord.”

”I want you in two places,” Nikolai said.

”Can you have your clones watch the Spine and Zharin entrances and recording anyone who leaves.”

”Yes, Nikolai.” Her voice was calm. ”And the original?”

”With me. I’ll need you near when we move.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed with a smile as he saw her tails flicking in the air after his reply. It seemed that Kumiko struggled to become more honest unless they were in bed together. However, her tails would show the truth easily.

”Understood.”

The pair headed down the hallway. ”Where are we going?” Kumiko asked, while curious and gazing up at Nikolai’s face.

”To meet the two who will help you.”

He turned down the hall and gave the signal to call the other two.

They arrived less than a minute later.

Amphitrite first — pink hair damp, probably just out of training, her usual military jacket half-zipped. Lunaria followed behind, quiet as ever, dressed in muted greys with a long, slitted coat that nearly hid her tail.

Nikolai didn’t bother sitting.

”We’re moving tonight.”

He enjoyed how Amphitrite started training after their first night. Something changed in her atmosphere and attitude after they slept together.

While Lunaria, someone with a new body, also enjoyed moving her body, and because Selene and Nikita couldn’t fight, Amphitrite was her ideal partner.

”Who’s the target?” Amphitrite asked, crossing her arms.

”No target,” he said. ”We’re the bait.”

Lunaria’s eyes lifted slightly.

”I want you both dressed light, weapons hidden.”

”Where are we going?” she asked.

”Ashveil’s outer edge.”

”Again?”

”No. We stop halfway. Make noise. Light a fire. Then leave.”

Amphitrite grinned faintly. ”You’re waiting to see who bites.”

Nikolai nodded once.

”If they follow... I’ll know who told them where we’d be.”

Lunaria didn’t ask for more details.

She just nodded once, then adjusted the straps on her coat. Amphitrite cracked her neck, then rolled her shoulders like she was already halfway into the mission. Nikolai watched both of them, silently weighing what came next.

He couldn’t believe how much they changed after joining the maids for their training... it was uncanny. Yet also quite pleasing on the eye to see them acting this way.

”If we are spotted,” he said, ”we won’t fight, but make sure to flee. I’ll have someone watching from the dark to cover us.”

Amphitrite smirked. ”So we’re not supposed to win?”

”You’re not supposed to fight. This isn’t war—it’s bait.”

Lunaria’s tail swayed once behind her coat, soft against the tile. It seemed she disliked this kind of mission, but there was no other method. Nikolai didn’t want to have any damage come to his women, and the main goal wasn’t to fight but to find the traitor.

”I’m ready.”

Nikolai nodded.

Without being asked, Kumiko stepped into the centre of the hallway, hands folding together in a slow, practised motion. There was no chant. No light. Just the sound of a short breath and the faint crackle of splitting air.

A second Kumiko stood beside her.

Then another Kumiko appeared and another.

Kumiko cracked her knuckles, as three other clones fluttered from her body, each one wearing a different coloured kimono, their faces similar but the emotion, style and aura a little different.

However, each of them shared one similarity.

They looked at Nikolai with a hot, affectionate gaze.

”You’ll follow Selene’s route,” Nikolai said to it. ”No contact unless something moves.”

The clone bowed and walked past him, heading toward the rear stairs. Gone in seconds.

”You sure she can handle it?” Amphitrite asked.

”She’s not meant to fight,” Nikolai said. ”Just watch and support.”

He then gave the orders to Kumiko for each of her clones, Nikita and Risa wouldn’t be taking part, but Selene would be going to the closest and safest area.

Kumiko approached him, fixing his collar with her fingers, smoothing out the edge of his coat. ”I’ll be close. If something happens, I’ll move without needing to be told.”

There wasn’t an urge to thank her; this was just how Kumiko was, and he showed appreciation through actions.

Nikolai hugged her tightly and whispered into her ear. ”Go change, into something light.”

Kumiko broke their embrace, then bowed her head again and left without another word.

Once she was gone, Nikolai turned back to the other two.

”Come on, we need to prepare.”

”Understood,” Lunaria said.

Amphitrite just smiled.

”Let’s see who takes the bait.”