Read Novel Full Chapter 726: That’s My Boy
Chapter 726: That’s My Boy
Ivan yearned to fight his son in such a battle, but there were too many dangers.
Volkov men became erratic and lost themselves in battle when facing a strong or admired opponent. Nikolai would become fixated on defeating him, and with each improvement in his son, would drive Ivan further and further, trying to spur it on more and more.
He once told Elizabeth of this desire, to maim, beat and maul each other until only Nikolai stood above him.
‘Well, I am quite the old fool these days…’
Watching his son struggle brought a complex mixture of emotions, worry, anxiety, delight and anticipation.
Ivan was so tightly wrung that he punched the stone wall the moment Nikolai struck back, howling into the moon like a fool.
The true ritual of the Volkov family when passing the mantle on to their son.
He’d fought Viktor.
Viktor had fought his father.
But Nikolai was different—Nikolai was his son!
‘I guess I finally understand dad’s face back then… the way his face beamed despite being beaten….’
“You can do it, Nikolai. Show them all what you’ve endured… how far you’ve come from the miserable life this useless old man forced you to endure!”
Ivan took pride in his son, though he didn’t always show it.
His biggest regret was becoming weak and pathetic after losing Elizabeth, even though she had left him with such a wonderful miracle.
‘Fight and win… then face me!’
It was their special method of bonding between a father and son, a bloody deathmatch which reinforced their familial bonds.
Below him, Nikolai raised his head as the fake Ivan climbed back to its feet.
The clone’s crushed skull had already begun to repair, though slower than before. Black blood ran down its face in thick lines, filling the broken shape of its nose and jaw before the flesh crawled back together. Its leg dragged for two steps, the damaged thigh refusing to recover cleanly after Nikolai struck the same point again and again.
Nikolai saw that the recovery was no longer perfect.
“Finally,” he muttered, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his wrist. “You’re starting to look like something I can kill.”
The fake Ivan smiled.
That smile made his skin crawl.
It was too much like his father’s expression after Nikolai finally landed a decent hit during training. Annoyingly Proud yet still brutally unfair. A silent display that said he would never compliment him properly, even if his chest were swelling with pride.
Nikolai hated that Franz had copied even a shadow of it.
He also hated that the shadow felt real.
This gave the clone an opening as it lunged towards him.
“Focus, Boy!” the clone shouted, identical to his father.
‘Dad!?’
Instinctively, Nikolai snapped back into focus, facing the attack head-on.
His ribs screamed as he twisted under the first claw, letting the strike tear past his shoulder instead of meeting it directly. His left eye was still blind, but the fake Ivan’s rhythm had sunk into his body now. Every strike carried his father’s old habits beneath the enhanced strength. Every adjustment followed the same stubborn logic.
Punish the weak side.
Force the guard open.
Destroy the legs.
End with the throat.
Nikolai had been beaten by that lesson for years.
Now he would use it in retaliation, to show his father, this fake… yet familiar man.
Franz, the clones, and everything else faded for Nikolai; he no longer saw this man as fake. The clone had succeeded—he now saw only his father. Ivan.
The clone’s second strike came toward his blind side. Nikolai lowered his shoulder and stepped inside it before the claws could open him again. His fist drove into the broken thigh, not with a wide swing but with a short, ugly punch that sank knuckle-deep into torn muscle.
The fake Ivan’s leg buckled.
Nikolai caught the clone’s wrist, dragged the arm down, and slammed his forehead into the clone’s face.
Black blood burst through the air, covering Nikolai’s face and replacing the rain.
The fake Ivan answered with a hook to Nikolai’s ribs that made his knees soften. Pain lanced through his chest, and his three hearts lurched out of rhythm. For a moment, his body wanted to give the evil god’s blood everything it asked for.
He struggled to breathe, and everything was becoming colourless.
Nikolai bit the inside of his cheek, tearing the flesh until the tangy-sweet taste of iron filled his mouth.
“No.”
He drove his knee into the clone’s thigh again.
The fake Ivan staggered.
Nikolai struck the same place a fourth time, then a fifth, each blow uglier than the last. He was no longer trying to overpower the monster. He was breaking the foundation beneath its strength.
Ivan watched from above with his breath trapped in his throat.
It was nothing like when he trained with the boy.
Nikolai was legitimately trying to destroy the clone’s leg to brutally render his regenerative ability useless.
He’d lost the hesitation about fighting someone with his father’s face; the lunacy of the silver wolves had overcome his empathy and humanity. To Ivan, this was a moment he wanted to record and remember forever.
The moment his son became a true adult werewolf.
Meanwhile, the fake Ivan also seemed to feel a blissful euphoria as his aura exploded in all directions, accompanied by a massive surge of wind.
Then it rapidly condensed around the wolf’s limbs.
A sharp crackle buzzed in Nikolai’s ears as he watched his father’s clone stand tall, ignoring the severe wound in its leg while radiating a massive Aura beyond anything Nikolai had seen before… it was exhilarating.
Nikolai grinned through broken teeth.
His hearts pounded out of sync, creating a strange rolling beat.
“There you are.”
The clone vanished into a burst of speed.
Nikolai moved before he could see, relying on instinct and his combat experience.
He lowered his hips, letting the first strike pass over his head, then shoved his claws into the sludgy resin on the ground and used the grip to pivot his entire body. The fake Ivan’s knee came for his skull like a meteor hammer.
Nikolai lifted his damaged arm, absorbing the blow badly as something tore from wrist to elbow.
He did not stop.
His other hand caught the clone’s ankle.
“Got you.”
Nikolai yanked him closer.
The fake Ivan’s ruined thigh finally failed to support the sudden shift. Its body dropped half a step, and Nikolai rose into it with everything left in him. His claws pierced under the ribs and drove upward.
The clone’s hand closed around his shoulder.
Nikolai felt claws bite into bone.
He roared into the clone’s face and pushed deeper.
The fake Ivan’s mouth opened.
For the first time, something close to a voice escaped.
“That’s it…”
Nikolai froze for half a heartbeat.
The clone’s ruined eyes focused on him, and the empty thing behind them seemed to flicker. Not fully sentient, but there was something familiar. Something like the remains of a will that should have belonged to his father alone.
Then the clone smiled again.
This time, Nikolai did not see mockery.
He saw pride.
The pain in his chest became heavier than the wounds.
“You bastard,” Nikolai whispered.
The clone’s claws tightened on his shoulder, holding him in place as if forcing him to finish it properly.
Nikolai nodded, exhausted yet understanding.
His right hand shifted higher, claws scraping along the inside of the ribs until they found the pulsing core hidden beneath layers of reinforced flesh and black blood. It was not a true heart like a living werewolf’s.
Franz had created something foul there, a knot of stolen vitality that pulsed and copied the nature of a heart, but it was foul… and corrupted.
Nikolai grabbed it.
The clone leaned closer.
Rain ran down both their faces.
The fake Ivan whispered with a broken, almost warm voice.
“That’s my boy… take care of your mother for me…”
Nikolai’s expression twisted.
Then he ripped the core out.
The clone’s body jerked violently, its claws tearing free from Nikolai’s shoulder as black blood sprayed across the flooded lane. The pressure vanished in a single breath. The Ancestry-level weight crushing the battlefield snapped apart, leaving only a ruined body wearing his father’s face.
Nikolai crushed the core in his hand.
The fake Ivan staggered backwards, shifting its eyes past him, up toward the ridge.
For a strange moment, the clone and the original looked at each other through the rain.
Ivan stood above with silver eyes shining, fists clenched at his sides.
While the clone’s smile softened.
Then its body collapsed, like tofu.
His body leaned back, half-exhausted and half-shocked by the clone’s words, and stood over the remains. His breathing became erratic as the violent heat beneath his skin slowly faded, the worst of his hunger washed away with the rain, and exhaustion and pain overwhelmed him.
He tried to adjust his breathing.
But his body refused.
“Shit….”
His strength left all at once.
Before he hit the ground, Ivan caught him.
The real Ivan landed in the lane like a falling hammer and pulled Nikolai into his arms before his son’s body could touch the blood-soaked concrete. Nikolai silently glanced up at his father with a single eye. Ivan held him carefully, despite the violent surroundings; the pair appeared oblivious.
Ivan grabbed Nikolai back with one arm to support him, the other held his wounded shoulder together as if afraid he might disappear.
Nikolai’s right eye moved weakly toward him.
“Dad…”
Ivan’s jaw tightened.
“You won.”
Nikolai gave a rough laugh that became a cough.
“Against the fake one.”
Ivan looked down at the remains of his clone, then back at his son.
“It’s still a win, let’s call it a draw.”
Nikolai scoffed, coughing up blood before his head slumped to the side, his father’s arrival bringing a sense of peace.
“Sleep well, my son. You truly fought well, so well… your father cannot wait to crush some foolish bastards who tried to take you away from me!”
Ivan glanced west as Dimitri’s roar tore through the midnight sky and muttered to himself with a sarcastic smile.
“Looks like the fun isn’t over.”