C100 Iron Blooded

Yin felt the blood rain soak into her skin, the cold sensation sending a shiver down her spine.

She stood there, feeling the weight of it, the symbolic blood that marked their transformation.

She glanced at Yang, who stood beside her, her eyes blazing with pride and exhaustion.

Morgana let out a breathless laugh, raising her hands to the sky as the blood soaked her.

"We did it,"

She whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

"We actually f*cking did it."

Catherine, her eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall, simply nodded.

"We're Iron Fenrirs now,"

She said softly, her voice full of disbelief and pride.

Around them, the other recruits stood in silence, some laughing, others crying, but all of them united in this moment of victory.

They had bled, they had suffered, and they had been reborn in the blood of battle.

For Yin, Yang, Morgana, Catherine, and the rest of the recruits, this was the moment they had been waiting for.

All the pain, the endless drills, the sleepless nights, it had all been worth it.

As they stood there, covered in blood and exhausted beyond words, they knew one thing for certain: they were no longer the same. They were Iron Fenrirs. They had earned their place in the pack.

The weight of that realization settled over them as they looked around at each other, their hearts pounding with pride, their bodies aching but standing tall.

...

After a few hours.

The bar on Invicta was louder and wilder than it had ever been.

The Iron Fenrirs were no longer younglings but fully initiated members of the pack.

They wore their black berets with the iron Fenrir insignia proudly perched on their heads, their dog tags clinking softly against their chests.

The recruits that had once been pushed to their breaking points now roared in victory, celebrating with a wild abandon that only warriors forged in fire could understand.

Music boomed through the packed bar, the thumping bass vibrating through the metal walls.

Bottles of every imaginable liquor were strewn across tables, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat.

Recruits danced, some half-dressed, others in their space uniforms, all of them caught in the moment as they reveled in their hard-earned success.

As a line had formed at the automatic tattooing machines which were busy inking the pack of Iron Fenrirs and the death angel In a cemetery background on their forearms.

At one of the tables near the back, Yin, Yang, Morgana, and Catherine sat slumped over in their chairs, each of them downing shots of hard liquor as if it were water.

Their fresh tattoos on their forearms Inside and outside part forming a complete half sleeve for each glistened, still slightly raw, but that didn't matter, they had bigger things on their minds.

They radiated a distinct "don't f*ck with us" aura that kept the rest of the h*rny as f*ck males at bay.

Their eyes, hazy from alcohol, were locked on Dracula, who sat at his usual table surrounded by his battle brothers.

Despite the noise and chaos, the tension radiating from the four women was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Yin set her glass down hard, her jaw tight as she glared at Dracula from across the room. Her lips curled in frustration as she spat,

"Just look at that asshole. After f*cking us senseless, he acts like we don't even exist. Like we're nothing."

Yang, her eyes narrowed and dark with anger, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I mean, what the f*ck? Aren't we s*xy enough for him? Just look at these racks!"

She gestured down at her proud chest, her voice dripping with irritation.

"Hmph, good for nothing loser."

Catherine slammed her glass down, her face flushed with both too much alcohol and frustration.

"The nerve of him,"

She muttered, shaking her head.

"He didn't even give us a second look after that night. Like we're some kind of one-time deal."

Her hands balled into fists on the table, and she growled under her breath.

Morgana sighed, leaning back in her chair, her gaze still fixed on Dracula.

"I don't get it. He didn't even look back. It's like we're just... another notch on his belt."

Her voice carried a bitter edge, but there was something else too, something deeper.

"I thought we'd at least get a f*cking nod, but nothing."

The four of them sat in silence for a moment, their complaints fueled by raging hormones and residual adrenaline left over from the Iron Forge and ridiculous amounts of alchohol simmering.

They were trying to soothe their bruised egos, but deep down, they all knew the truth.

No matter how much they complained, the frustration gnawing at them was more than just being brushed off.

After that night with Dracula, none of them could feel anything for anyone else. And it was driving them insane.

"Why the hell is it like this?"

Yin muttered, staring into her empty glass.

"It's not like we've never had s*x before. But after him... f*ck, it's like no one else even exists. What the hell did he do to us?"

Yang nodded, her fingers tapping nervously against the table.

"Yeah. It's not just that he f*cked us senseless. It's him. It's that damn dark prince wana be villan aura he's got. Like... I don't know, like there's something in him that makes it impossible to look at anyone else."

Catherine ran a hand through her hair, her brow furrowed in frustration.

"It's f*cking ridiculous. We're not schoolgirls. We're warriors. But one night with him, and now no one else even compares."

Morgana sighed, rubbing her temples as if trying to shake the thoughts away.

"I don't know why... but it's like he's inside my head now. Every time I think about it, about him... it's like nothing else matters."

They all sat there, stewing in their frustration and confusion.

It wasn't just anger anymore. It was something deeper, something they didn't want to admit.

Dracula had left a mark on them, something they couldn't shake, and it wasn't just physical.

Finally, Yin slammed her fist on the table, her eyes blazing with determination.

"You know what? F*ck this. We need to settle this here and now."

Yang and Catherine exchanged glances, their eyes lighting up with the same fire. Morgana nodded, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips.

"Yeah. Let's stop pretending like this isn't driving us crazy."

Without another word, the four of them stood up, their movements heavy from the alcohol but fueled by a newfound determination.

They marched toward the bar, grabbing bottles of whiskey, vodka, and whatever strong stuff was left from the shelf.

The self-bar was running out fast, but that didn't stop them.

They clutched the bottles tightly, their eyes locked on their target: Dracula.

...

MC POV

I sat at a corner table with my battle brothers Darius, Paul, Julian, Robert and Airid each of us nursing a drink.

The atmosphere was infectious, even for us. We sat, watching the chaos unfold, smirking at the wildness of it all.

But while the others were leaning into the mood of the celebration, I had something else on my mind.

"We still need to figure out the next phase,"

I said, leaning forward, my fingers absently toying with the glass of whiskey in front of me.

"Specialization training starts soon. We need to sort out who's fit for what. Marines, pilots, engineers… hell, even cooks."

Darius grinned, taking a long swig from his drink.

"Oh, let 'em choose first. They've earned that much. But after that, we're going to see who meets the requirements. No dead weight."

Paul nodded.

"Exactly. They might want to be pilots, but if they can't handle the G-forces, they're not getting near a cockpit. And we can't just throw them into roles because they like the sound of it. We need efficiency."

Airid chuckled darkly, his eyes scanning the room.