Chapter 7

Frostcliff. The wind was as sharp as a blade, wailing mournfully. Lucas stood at the entrance of the sacred site, covered in blood. He had forced his way through numerous barriers, his body riddled with wounds. The deepest cuts exposed bone, and blood stained his tattered robes. His face was deathly pale from blood loss, but his eyes glinted with terrifying intensity. The Betas guarding the altar pointed their spears at Lucas. The chief elder's face was filled with shock and anger: "Lucas! Are you mad? Stop now!" "The Moon Goddess's relic is not something you can touch. It is forbidden; using it forcibly will scatter your soul to the winds!" Lucas's eyes were bloodshot. "Without her, I am already in hell. What does it matter if my soul scatters?" Without another word, he unleashed all his remaining strength, crashing violently into the Frostwolf defense line. "Stop him!" Shouts, clashing weapons, and the sound of bones breaking intertwined. Lucas's reason had been consum