Stratford scanned the large crowd that had gathered in the middle of the Weeping Woods. He could see five other Magi and hundreds of mortal town residents, excluding Adam.
"Hmm?" The werewolf's brows furrowed as he gazed at these mortals. He could feel a subtle connection toward them, something that originated from the depths of his very being.
"I see," he said flatly. "So all of you are my descendants."
The following moment, his crimson eyes narrowed and he coldly muttered, "Although you all have my blood running through your veins, neither of you has the venom!"
He turned his head and gazed at Adam. "Your doing, I suppose?"
Adam got to his feet, solemnly looking at the werewolf. What he had feared had come to pass. He had involuntarily drawn the fight here.
Damn it, the youth cursed inwardly. There are bound to be some casualties among the civilians now. But as long as they can buy me a little bit of time to prepare my final trump card...
