Read Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Novel by Only For You Updated 2025 -26 - Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Chapter 3103

Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Chapter 3103

The implication was obvious. Nyx did not fully trust Knox to face werewolves head-on for the first time. With her at his side, any sudden danger could be handled immediately. Knox did not underestimate the situation either, and together with Nyx, he charged toward the fortress.

Andrew, however, stayed at the rear and did not rush to act. From the moment they arrived, a pitch-black, terrifying aura emanating from the far end of the fortress had already caught his attention. Since the other party had yet to move, Andrew saw no reason to strike first.

Though thousands of werewolves were swarming the fortress, they were nothing more than fodder to him. Killing them would be effortless. What truly demanded his attention was the werewolf progenitor hidden among the army on that side of the fortress. This was neither a Werewolf Lord nor a Werewolf Prince, but a being at the progenitor level. That alone proved how much upheaval had been caused earlier in the Highland Tribe’s forbidden ground.

Step by step, Andrew began climbing the fortress walls.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the fortress, the darkened earth was covered by an endless sea of werewolves. At that moment, all of them had transformed into bloodthirsty beasts with glowing red eyes. A restless, violent tension saturated the entire army. Many young werewolves, consumed by the desire for slaughter and flesh, had grown uncontrollable, roaring wildly and even attacking their own companions.

The Werewolf Prince, Edmund, who commanded them, remained untransformed, maintaining his tall human form. A tattoo ran from his forehead to the back of his gleaming bald head. He wore a glossy black trench coat, black leather pants, and black leather shoes. His chest was bare, revealing dark chest hair and bulging muscles.

“Progenitor,” Edmund asked irritably, turning toward the short old man behind him. “The boys can’t wait any longer. When can we launch a full assault?”

The old man barely reached Edmund’s chest. His body was shriveled, with only a few sparse gray hairs clinging to his scalp. He looked like someone already standing at death’s door.

However, his amber eyes burned with cruelty and savagery so intense that even Edmund did not dare meet his gaze.

Ragnar Marrock—the Third Werewolf Progenitor, a pure-blooded offspring of the first progenitor, Fenrir.

He showed no reaction to Edmund’s urging. His amber eyes simply stared at the fortress, as if contemplating something unseen. Suddenly, two young, massive werewolves could no longer restrain themselves and let out provocative growls in Ragnar’s direction. These bloodthirsty beasts were Edmund’s subordinates.

Having never seen this shriveled old man before, they sensed no danger from him at all. Afraid to provoke Edmund, they instead bared their fangs at Ragnar.

A hoarse, grating laugh slowly escaped Ragnar’s throat.

“Edmund, my servant, my obedient child,” Ragnar said softly. “You may let your boys attack now. I have already seen the prey—prey that belongs only to me. And it looks delicious.”

Edmund stiffened. “Progenitor… you mean you’re going to join the battle yourself?”

Ragnar lifted his head, glanced at him, and smiled with chilling malice. “Why not? I told you already—on that fortress is my prey. My delicious prey.”

Edmund immediately lowered his head, not daring to meet Ragnar’s eyes.

Ordinary werewolves, their rank too low, could not sense Ragnar’s terror at all. But Edmund, a prince-level werewolf and a martial god powerhouse, understood perfectly. Ragnar could likely snap his neck in a single exchange. That was the absolute brutality and authority of a werewolf progenitor.

Edmund let out a thunderous roar and swept his arm toward the fortress.

Instantly, countless werewolves surged forward like a black tide, launching a full-scale assault on the mountain fortress. The furious horde looked ready to tear it apart entirely.

The two werewolves who had challenged Ragnar earlier had only taken a couple of steps forward when they suddenly let out agonized screams, their howls filled with overwhelming terror. Ragnar had already reached out from behind and seized them by the necks.

With his small, shriveled body, he effortlessly lifted the two massive werewolves—each weighing over a thousand pounds—off the ground. With a gentle squeeze, both died instantly, their earlier offense paid for with their lives.

Ragnar wore an indescribable smile, one that sent chills down the spine. Slightly hunched, he followed behind the charging horde. Yet after just two steps, he crossed thousands of feet and shot straight up onto the fortress walls.

What greeted him was a massive blade of energy, cleaving straight down toward his head.

Ragnar’s expression turned vicious as he snarled, “You’re asking for it.”