Chapter 442: Chapter 442 One Punch Kill

Liam suddenly bent his head amusingly as he looked at Irina.

For a brief second the chaos around them seemed to dull in his mind. The shattered concrete, the growls, the metallic scent of blood in the air all faded to the background as he watched the frost spiral around her fingers again. It was not a trick of the light. It was not some artifact from the cold tunnel air.

She was using ice.

Actual ice.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, not in suspicion but in genuine disbelief. She was a werewolf. He had seen her shift. He had seen the feral strength in her muscles and the instinct in her movements. So how the hell did she have another power layered on top of that. Ice was not something you picked up like a weapon. It was elemental. It was deep. It felt almost unnatural seeing a wolf command winter.

But that wasn’t the problem now.

The battlefield was still alive around them and Liam forced his focus forward. His eyes moved past Irina, past the bodies on the ground, and locked onto the man at the back.

The main man.

He stood calmly, almost detached from the carnage unfolding in front of him. No rushed breathing. No twitching shoulders. Just quiet control. On either side of him were two masked men who had not moved since the fight escalated. Even after seeing Liam crush Zero’s chest and send him flying through concrete, even after watching vampires and exogens fall like broken dolls, they did not shake.

Not even a shift of weight.

That alone told Liam something important.

Confidence like that did not come from stupidity. It came from certainty.

They believed they could handle whatever stepped toward them.

Liam exhaled slowly through his nose and prepared to move. His right foot shifted forward slightly, weight transferring with intent. He wanted the one in the middle. If he could grab him, everything would unravel.

But before he could even take a full step, a massive shadow rushed past him.

Sergei.

“My turn now.”

The words were rough, almost playful, like a man stepping into a ring he had been waiting for all night.

Then it happened.

HOWLLLL!

The sound tore through the tunnel like a physical force. It vibrated against the walls, rolled through broken pillars, and seemed to shake dust from the ceiling. Liam felt it in his chest before he fully processed it.

Grunt.

Crack!!!

Sergei’s body expanded violently. Bones shifted and lengthened with audible snaps. Muscles swelled and stretched, tearing fabric apart as fur burst through skin. His spine arched unnaturally before straightening with brutal finality. Within seconds he towered over eight feet tall.

Liam blinked once.

He had seen werewolves before. But he had never seen one reach that size. Sergei was no longer just a man who turned into a wolf. He looked like a war engine carved from muscle and rage.

Howllllll!

This time the howl carried less wildness and more dominance. It was not just sound. It was declaration.

Even Liam had to take a step back as the air trembled. The sheer pressure coming off Sergei was intense. For a moment Liam almost smiled to himself.

It seems he’s got this.

Sergei did not waste time. In one explosive motion he launched forward, the ground cracking under his weight. He reached one of the masked men in an instant and grabbed him by the torso. The man looked small in his grasp, like a doll lifted by a giant.

Sergei raised him up effortlessly.

The masked man dangled there, legs barely moving.

Sergei opened his jaws wide, fangs glistening under the dim tunnel lights, preparing to bite his head clean off.

Then something changed.

The masked man moved.

Not in panic.

Not in desperation.

It was almost as if he had been asleep until that exact second.

His fist came up and smashed directly into Sergei’s descending head.

The impact echoed.

Sergei’s massive body flew backward and slammed into the ground with enough force to shake the entire platform. Concrete fractured beneath him.

Liam’s brows rose slightly.

So that was how it was going to be.

The masked man did not pause. The moment his feet touched the ground again he struck his leg hard against the floor and launched upward. The jump alone cracked the concrete. He arched his body mid air and drove his fist downward straight at Sergei’s chest.

If that landed clean, even a monster like Sergei would feel it.

Luckily, Sergei rolled at the last second. The punch smashed into the ground instead, leaving a crater where his body had been.

Sergei did not stay down.

He surged to his feet with animal speed and leaped toward the wall. His claws dug deep into the concrete as if it were soft earth. Dust rained down as he climbed and then ran along the vertical surface with frightening agility.

Within seconds he disappeared into the darker section of the tunnel where the lights flickered weakly.

The masked man landed lightly where Sergei had been.

For a brief moment he hesitated.

He lifted his head slowly toward the direction Sergei had vanished. The air seemed to grow still, heavy with tension.

Then he ran.

No wasted movement. No dramatic shout. Just pure explosive speed as he burst into the darkness after the towering werewolf.

Liam watched the two shadows vanish into the deeper part of the tunnel and shook his head slightly.

Foolish.

Sergei was in full werewolf form. His senses would be sharpened beyond human limits. Hearing, smell, instinct, everything amplified. The darkness would not blind him. It would empower him. He would hear heartbeats. He would smell sweat. He would track every breath.

Chasing him into that was suicide.

The tunnel swallowed their sounds quickly, leaving only distant echoes and the faint rumble of something heavy colliding far within.

Now the battlefield had shifted again.

Broken bodies littered the ground. Steam rose faintly from shattered concrete. The metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air.

And at the back, standing calm as ever, was the main man.

Beside him, only one masked figure remained.

The other had followed Sergei into the dark.

Now there was only one masked guy standing before Liam and his target.

The masked man stepped forward.

There was no rush in his movement. No dramatic shift in posture. Just one calm step that echoed softly against the cracked concrete floor. Dust swirled around his boots as if even the air respected the space he occupied.

Then, to Liam’s surprise, the man reached up and removed his mask.

He did not tear it off. He did not throw it aside.

He knelt down slowly, almost ceremonially, and placed the mask on the floor with care. The gesture felt deliberate, like a warrior laying down a title before a duel. For a second the entire tunnel seemed to hold its breath.

Then he stood back up.

He stared at Liam dead in the eyes.

The moment their gazes locked, something shifted.

Liam felt it instantly.

Those eyes were white. Not pale. Not light colored.

White.

No pupil. No iris. Just blank white staring straight into him.

Looking deep into those white eyes, Liam felt chills crawl across his spine. His throat tightened without warning. He swallowed hard as sweat began to run down his forehead even though the air around him was cool and thick with dust.

He couldn’t explain what was happening.

His heart rate spiked out of nowhere. His breathing became uneven. It was like something invisible had slipped inside his chest and squeezed. For the first time in a long time, he felt something unfamiliar.

Fear.

Not the calculated kind. Not the kind he could channel into focus.

This felt imposed.

Like it wasn’t his.

Like someone had reached inside and twisted a switch.

The man’s face made it worse.

It was completely burned.

Not scarred.

Burned.

Like someone who had been trapped in a fire and dragged themselves out of hell. Parts of his skin were gone entirely. In some places Liam could see bone beneath charred flesh. There was no proper nose, only hollowed ridges. No lips, just exposed teeth and tightened scar tissue stretched unnaturally across his jaw.

It was the most hideous face Liam had ever seen in his life.

And yet it did not carry madness.

It carried focus.

Ding.

The sound cut through Liam’s rising panic like a sharp blade.

His system.

He had not heard that tone in a long time in a real fight.

[Danger! Spiritual Attack Detected]

The words flashed across his vision.

[Nullifying effect]

[Ding]

[Error *^§]

Huh?

Liam blinked hard.

What the fuck is a spiritual attack?

His mind raced. He had dealt with physical strength. Speed. Elements. Even psychic pressure before. But spiritual attack?

And why was there an error?

Why couldn’t his system fight it properly?

He tried to steady his breathing but his chest felt heavy. The fear was still there, lingering like poison in his bloodstream. His vision flickered slightly at the edges.

Then everything blurred.

For a split second it felt like the world folded inward.

Booooom!!!

Pain exploded through his chest.

It was not gradual.

It was immediate and devastating.

Liam felt something slam into him but he never saw it coming. One moment he was standing. The next his feet left the ground entirely. His body shot backward like a ragdoll and crashed into the wall behind him.

Concrete shattered on impact.

The wall broke apart as his back punched through it. Debris rained down around him as his body became lodged inside the fractured structure.

For a second he could not breathe.

Cough. Cough.

He forced air into his lungs and immediately tasted blood. It spilled from his mouth and dripped down his chin as he tried to focus his vision again.

His ears rang.

He looked down slowly at his chest.

It was deformed.

The center had caved inward unnaturally where the punch had landed. The fabric of his clothes was torn. Beneath it his skin was bruised deep purple, almost black, already swelling.

He had taken heavy hits before.

This was different.

He had not sensed it.

He had not seen a movement.

He had not even felt wind before impact.

He clenched his jaw and punched the broken wall around him. The already cracked concrete crumbled under his strike and he broke free, stepping forward slowly as chunks of debris fell away from his shoulders.

He lifted his head.

The burned man was still standing exactly where he had been.

Same posture.

Same distance.

He had not moved.

Liam’s eyes widened slightly.

How?

He did not teleport.

He did not dash forward.

There was no afterimage. No distortion in the air. Nothing.

Yet he attacked.

And Liam did not sense a thing until the punch was already inside his chest.

That was not speed alone.

Something else was happening.

Liam inhaled deeply despite the pain and took two steps forward with resolve. His mind forced his body to obey. He refused to be overwhelmed by something he did not understand.

But halfway through the second step, his legs gave in.

They simply stopped responding.

His knees buckled and he dropped heavily to the ground.

The impact sent another wave of pain through his chest and he caught himself with one hand against the floor, breathing hard. Blood dripped from his lips onto the cracked concrete.

His muscles felt weak.

Not exhausted.

Weakened.

Like the strength inside them had been suppressed.

Across from him, the burned man did not react outwardly.

But there was a flicker of surprise in his white eyes.

Nobody else noticed.

He had expected Liam to die from that punch.

It was meant to be clean.

One strike.

One kill.

Yet the young man was still breathing.

Still conscious.

Still trying to stand.

The flicker vanished as quickly as it appeared.

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