Boots pounded across wet pavement.

The squad moved as one through the ruined streets of Singapore, black capes snapping behind them as they weaved past abandoned cars, shattered glass, and bodies left where they had fallen. Their pace never broke. Their formation stayed tight. The city around them looked half-drowned in smoke and mist, every surface slick with rainwater, blood, or soot. Fires still burned in the distance, casting a restless orange glow through the dark, but the women running through it looked untouched by hesitation. Every footfall was measured. Every breath was controlled. Every weapon in their hands hummed with caged power.

At the front, the squad leader ran with her rifle held low and steady, her voice cold and controlled through the comms. She was not the tallest among them, but everything about her radiated command. Her armor was sleek and close-fitted, built for speed rather than bulk, dark silver plates layered over a black combat suit that flexed cleanly with her movement. A black cape flowed behind her in narrow, disciplined lines, frayed slightly at the edges from earlier fighting. The upper half of her face was framed by a narrow tactical helm, leaving only the lower half visible, all sharp jaw and unshaken composure. A few strands of short dark hair had escaped and clung damply near her temple.

“Mission Control, this is Valkyrie-1. We are 100 meters from the target. Elite threat-level confirmed. Werewolf. Rank: Feral.”

Static cracked in her ear for half a second before a woman’s voice came through, sharp and immediate.

“This is Mission Control. Confirmed. Herald designation remains active. Rules of engagement remain unchanged. However, ranked monsters are still unknown variables, so proceed with extreme caution. Squad Valkyrie is hereby authorized to engage and eliminate.”

The leader’s eyes hardened.

“Copy that. Valkyrie engaging.”

Behind her, the rest of the squad adjusted formation without needing to be told.

On the far left, a tall woman with bronze skin and a hard, athletic build, her dark hair braided tightly against her head. She carried the shortest rifle of the four, a heavy, compact weapon, thick around the center, with overlapping armor-like plates wrapped around its core. The barrel ended in three vent-like prongs that flexed subtly as mana moved through them, each seam along the frame glowing a deep azure when charged. It looked less like a rifle and more like a brutal, handheld breach weapon designed to tear pieces out of anything it hit.

To the leader’s right, a slimmer woman with pale skin and long silver-blonde hair bound into a severe tail moved, her features calm in a way that bordered on eerie. Her rifle was long, narrow, and elegant, almost lance-like in profile. Ringed coils ran along its upper frame, interlocked in precise intervals, and each one gave off a low mechanical whine whenever mana fed into the weapon. The barrel was so cleanly shaped that it looked sharpened rather than forged, a weapon built to punch through armor, flesh, and bone in one merciless line.

The last of the four ran a step behind them, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, her black hair cut short around a face marked by an old scar running from the corner of her lip to her jawline. Her rifle matched her. It had a savage, blocky frame, heavier and rougher than the others, with jagged protrusions along the stock and barrel like hooked bones cast in black steel. At rest, it already looked unstable. When mana flowed into it, sparks snapped violently from the housing as if the weapon hated being held still.

They rounded the final corner.

The werewolf had its back turned to them, its enormous body hunched as it stalked toward a cluster of screaming civilians trying to flee down the road. Thick black fur bristled along its spine. Its one ruined eye leaked black ichor in slow, glistening streams. Its remaining blue eye burned with something far worse than animal instinct. There was thought in it. Hunger sharpened by rage. One enormous claw scraped long trenches into the asphalt with every step, the sound grinding through the air like metal dragged across bone.

The squad leader stopped first and raised her rifle.

Her weapon was long, elegant, and brutal all at once, shaped loosely like a sniper rifle but clearly not made by human hands. Its frame looked grown rather than assembled, dark metal layered in flowing, predatory lines around a hollow core beneath the barrel where azure light pulsed in slow waves. Fine arcs of blue-white electricity crawled over her gauntlets and down into the weapon as mana poured through it.

“Target locked,” she said.

The werewolf started to turn.

Too late.

The rifle screamed.

Particles of azure light gathered around the barrel in an instant, spiraling inward in a tightening storm before collapsing into a single condensed point. Then the weapon discharged in a violent flash. A blue beam ripped across the street with a thundercrack and slammed into the werewolf’s torso.

Its body jerked violently.

The other three women were fired milliseconds later.

Three more beams ripped across the street.

Each shot landed with crushing force. Blue-white sparks burst outward across the werewolf’s chest and side. Black fur burned away. Meat split. Bone showed for a flashing instant beneath all that impact.

The combined force lifted the monster clean off its feet and hurled it backward through the front of the first row of stores. Concrete burst outward in a storm of dust and debris. Twisted shutters and flaming signage were ripped free as the body crashed through them and disappeared into the second block behind.

The shockwave rolled down the street.

Glass rained.

Smoke boiled outward.

For one heartbeat, it looked finished.

Then the werewolf came out of it.

It burst from the collapsing storefront in a shower of fire and broken concrete, landing low and hard on all fours before surging forward with terrifying speed. Its body no longer moved like a lumbering brute. It moved like something trained to kill in confined spaces. One claw dug into the road, turning its whole body sharply to the side as it avoided the next volley of shots. The squad had already fired again, but the beast twisted between them, taking one beam through the shoulder instead of the heart, another across the ribs instead of the spine. Flesh burst. Fur burned. It kept coming.

Its roar hit the street like a physical force.

Deep. Wet. Furious.

Its muscles swelled beneath its torn hide. Fur stood on end. Black blood frothed at its mouth. The Herald of Collapse had gone into a rage.

“Contact confirmed,” the silver-haired woman said flatly as she shifted position.

“Still standing,” muttered the scar-jawed heavy gunner.

The squad moved.

They split instantly, capes trailing through firelight and smoke, using the broken road as cover while maintaining their firing arcs. The left-flank soldier went wide, boots tearing across slick asphalt. The silver-haired lancer cut right, low and fast. The heavy gunner remained behind the leader, rifle already rising for another shot.

The werewolf tracked them all.

Then it vanished.

Not truly vanished. It moved so fast that for a second the eye refused to accept where it had gone.

The left-flank Valkyrie fired first, her tri-pronged weapon blasting a pulse toward where its legs should have been.

The shot hit an empty street.

The werewolf was already above her.

It came down from the smoke in a savage arc, both claws out, jaws split wide.

“Above!”

Too late.

The bronze-skinned Valkyrie raised her rifle to block, and the werewolf crashed into her with the force of a wrecking ball. “UGH!” Steel shrieked. Armor buckled. She was driven across the street and slammed through the side of an overturned van. The whole vehicle flipped onto one side under the impact.

The squad leader fired point-blank at its flank.

The beam tore across the beast’s ribs, opening a glowing trench through fur and flesh.

It barely flinched.

Instead, it ripped one claw through the ruined van and dragged the Valkyrie out by her leg.

She hit the road hard, cape twisted around her waist, rifle skidding away across the pavement.

“Rhea!” the heavy gunner barked.

The werewolf seized the downed Valkyrie by the torso and lifted her one-handed. “FUCK! It hurts!” Her boots kicked wildly above the ground. Its claws sank into the armor plating over her abdomen with a metallic crunch, puncturing deep enough that blood started to run down the black suit beneath. “MOTHERFUCKER!”

The squad leader was already moving.

“Take the joint! Break the arm!”

The silver-haired lancer dropped to one knee, coils on her rifle spinning as she lined up the shot. The heavy gunner advanced three hard steps and braced, jagged weapon whining with unstable force.

Two beams fired at once.

The first punched through the werewolf’s elbow in a burst of fur, bone, and black blood.

The second hit higher, tearing through the shoulder.

The beast howled, but instead of releasing the Valkyrie, it whipped her around like a flail and hurled her toward the two firing women.

“Incoming!”

The silver-haired Valkyrie threw herself sideways while the heavy gunner dug her feet down and opened her arms up. Barely managed to catch the thrown body across one shoulder before all three of them crashed to the ground in a tangled skid of armor, cape, and burning debris.

The squad leader pressed the attack alone.

She sprinted straight in, rifle low, then grabbed it by the barrel and swung it like a club. The weapon’s reinforced stock slammed into the werewolf’s jaw with a deafening crack of metal on bone. The beast’s head snapped to the side. She instantly flipped the weapon back around, barrel raised, and fired, aiming for its throat.

The blast exploded, but the beast was faster, and it backhanded her with its remaining claw. “SHIT!”

She got her rifle up in time to absorb part of it, but the impact still launched her across the street and smashed her through the front of a bus stop. Glass burst around her in glittering sheets.

“Captain!” the heavy gunner roared.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep