Part 1 : Crave for Blood

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''Please, I beg you, allow me to live, the lord will not forgive you for my death,'' A man, wearing an old tattered shirt with  face streaming with tears falling down from his eyes, he begged. But did the manjasang listen? ''The lord gave me the permission to kill whoever steps in my path and prevent me from continuing my journey, you do not deserve to live in this world, I cannot bear myself to sink my fangs into your throat drinking the blood out of you,'' The manjasang snarled. His normally calm and pleasant demeanor slowly changed and his face contorted in an all - consuming anger; his nostrils flaring, eyes flashing and closing into slits, mouth quivering , slurring words that were unintelligible came spewing into space like a volcano releasing its pent up emotions into the darkness. His hands closed into fists and he crouched forward. Then he let go with a right uppercut to the head that sent him flying from one side of the room to the other at what seemed like the speed of light. The man's body made contact with the opposite wall and he slid to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

The manjasang walked forward, pulling the man's chin to face him while his claws stabbed the man's heart who whispered his last sentence, ''It started with the creation of blood and magic, it started with fear and hatred. Ararora manuscript will never be yours."
 

''I will find Ararora manuscript before anyone else', don't underestimate my power,"

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