My Stepmom Is A Vampire & Her Entire Bloodline Wants To Breed Me

Chapter 191: Western Conflict Area

Dylan’s room barely looked like a room anymore. Plastic sheets covered the floor and walls completely except for the door, sealing every surface as if this were a crime scene straight out of a serial killer film.

Seamus gave Dylan a long look, but Dylan did not seem bothered at all as he worked with unsettling efficiency.

"What?" Dylan muttered when he noticed the stare. "You’re the one who told me to do this."

Using the bone blade Diane had fashioned earlier, he separated the leg cleanly into sections and fed them into the fireplace one by one.

The moment flesh met flame, the fire shifted unnaturally, turning an eerie blue as the remains disintegrated into ash almost instantly.

Otto finally broke.

He bent forward violently and vomited onto the plastic-covered floor, his body shaking as retching sounds filled the room. The air grew thick, heavy with the metallic stench of blood mixed with sour bile, making the space feel suffocating.

"Damn it," Dylan complained, wrinkling his nose. "You’re ruining my sense of smell. Do something about him."

Seamus let out a slow breath, clearly irritated, and turned his attention back to Otto. "You said you wanted to talk."

Otto wiped his mouth with trembling hands and nodded frantically, eyes unfocused and glassy.

"There are things I’m forbidden to say," he admitted, voice hoarse.

"But I can bring you inside the Black Lotus. I can take you straight to the red zone. You’ll see what really happened there with your own eyes."

Seamus dragged a hand through his hair, frustration weighing heavily on him. In the end, it came back to the same conclusion. They needed to go there.

Honestly, he wanted answers from the west side of the wall even more. That area was far more dangerous, far more unstable, and whatever was happening there felt closer to the core of everything unraveling around them.

If he could finish this quickly, Andrew had promised he could move with them again.

But for now, it was clear that this would take time, whether he liked it or not.

***

The Northern Area

Behind the Great Wall of the North lay the western conflict zone, a region that once marked the boundary between safety and chaos, neutrality and war.

The Wall itself had been built to divide the safe zone from the conflict area, but in reality it only served as a reminder of how fractured the North truly was, since the continent consisted of countless small countries forced into fragile coexistence.

The war erupted when one nation, Orchina, sought to seize control of resources belonging to others, and the western side of the Wall became the closest battlefield to the neutral zone.

It was also the quietest, not because peace had returned, but because there was nothing left worth destroying.

"This country used to be called Leuca," Matthew said quietly. "My hometown."

Before them stretched a wasteland of shattered buildings and collapsed infrastructure.

The sky remained perpetually dark, streaked with clouds and smoke, while military jets roared overhead at irregular intervals.

Their engines echoed like distant thunder, a reminder that the war was still ongoing, even if this place had already been reduced to ruins.

"Are you sure the Crest is here?" Matthew asked, scanning the devastation. "There’s nothing left. This place was abandoned a long time ago."

Ulrich appeared behind them, his presence calm and composed despite the desolation around them.

"Orchina claimed this land because it is rich in coal and oil," he said evenly.

"You believe that?" Andrew let out a short, humorless chuckle.

"Before the invasion, children started disappearing. They blamed bears and wolves, said construction disturbed the wildlife. I never bought that explanation."

Ulrich tapped Andrew lightly on the back. "Let us take a closer look."

"But no one lives here anymore, Lord Ulrich," Matthew said, keeping a respectful distance as he followed.

This entire zone was dangerous territory, riddled with unexploded rockets, abandoned military equipment, and traps left behind by retreating forces.

The only reason they had been allowed through at all was Ulrich’s influence, a fact Andrew deeply disliked, since it meant the Bears would inevitably learn of their presence.

"Some people stayed," Ulrich explained calmly, already familiar with the area.

"They built a living from what was left behind. Salvaging armored vehicles, selling spent ammunition, even dismantling inactive rockets. They call themselves collectors."

’As expected from Draemir’s patriarch,’ Andrew thought, following Ulrich as they moved deeper into what had once been the heart of the town.

Ruined tanks and crashed aircraft littered the streets, and scattered among the wreckage were people scavenging relentlessly.

Their clothes were torn, their faces and hands blackened with soot and grime, yet none of them showed fear when Ulrich came into view.

Instead, they paused, watching silently as the group approached a cluster of makeshift structures constructed from broken walls and collapsed buildings, fused together like uneven blocks stacked without care.

Inside, the place felt disturbingly alive. Vendors sold weapons, mechanical parts, food, and clothing scavenged from ruins, their voices low but steady. It survived in its rawest form.

"Where are we going?" Andrew asked at last.

"To meet an acquaintance," Ulrich replied.

Before he could elaborate, chaos erupted. Armed soldiers stormed into the area, rifles raised, shouting orders as they began smashing stalls and overturning crates.

Andrew and Matthew tensed immediately, instinctively assuming they had been discovered, but Ulrich pulled them behind a partially collapsed structure and motioned for silence.

"Where is that man?" one soldier shouted. "The one selling that coal!"

"I know some of you are hiding him," another barked. "If you don’t speak now, we’ll destroy this entire place."

A rifle discharged into the air repeatedly, the sound sharp and terrifying as screams broke out among the collectors.

Andrew and Matthew exchanged a glance, realization dawning as they understood the soldiers were not here for them.

"He moved to a nearby town," an elderly vendor finally cried. "I saw him sneak out at midnight, I swear."

One of the soldiers grabbed the man by the collar. "You’re not lying?"

"I swear to God."

"Good," the soldier said coldly. "You’re coming with us."

The old man struggled as he was dragged away, his granddaughter clinging desperately to his hand, sobbing as she begged him not to go.

Andrew clenched his fists, every instinct screaming to intervene, but Ulrich’s grip on his arm stopped him.

"We are here in secret," Ulrich warned quietly. "If you act, they will know."

"I can’t just stand here and watch," Andrew snapped, wrenching his arm free, only for Matthew to grab him instead.

"I’ll do it," Matthew said firmly. "They probably know who you are already. They don’t know me."

Andrew hesitated, then nodded slowly as Matthew prepared to step forward, but before he could move, another presence cut through the chaos.

"Stop this."

The voice was commanding, resonant, and instantly silenced the area. Soldiers and collectors alike turned as a man in a wheelchair rolled forward, flanked by ten figures dressed in black from head to toe, masks concealing their faces.

Their weapons were heavier, their posture disciplined, and their presence radiated something far more dangerous than the soldiers from Orchina.

"Men of Orchina," the man said calmly, eyes sharp and unyielding. "Leave now, before this turns into a bloodbath."