The second wave of Werewolves had been timed to arrive a little later than the first.
While the initial assault had featured the infamous Ironfangs, it hadn’t included the strongest fighters the Dark Guild had to offer, at least not when the Ironfangs were excluded. Now, the real elite had arrived.
One hundred hand-picked Werewolves, each one equipped with the very best weaponry and armor the Dark Guild could supply, were on the move.
From the same direction as the first attack, a new fleet of over twenty vehicles sped toward the battlefield. Dust trailed behind them as their tires tore across the roads, engines howling with fury.
From his vantage point, Austin could see them coming.
‘I have to do what I can to help the rest of the Howlers!’ he thought, gritting his teeth. ‘Unlike the others, I didn’t run into any of the Ironfangs. They’ve had it harder than me, so it’s my turn to take the weight.’
He jumped off his motorbike, his feet landing hard against the cracked pavement. His body was still transformed, not in his massive Minotaur form, but in its condensed version. Sleeker, faster... just as deadly. His long, winding horns curled upward like scythes of bone, glinting under the streetlight haze.
Leaning forward slightly, Austin twisted one foot into the concrete.
The ground crumbled beneath him like it was nothing more than soft clay.
With an explosive kick, he launched himself forward. He only sprinted about ten meters before a swirling portal shimmered into existence right in front of him.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Inside the fleet of cars, the elite Werewolves were preparing for what they believed would be a clean-up mission. They adjusted their armor, tightened their grips on weapons, and exchanged confident glances.
To them, this was just protocol.
The rest of the Lupus Pack would have already handled the main threat. The Ironfangs had likely torn through the Howlers. Some of them even joked about how little work would be left by the time they arrived.
In their minds, this second wave was meant to be backup. An insurance policy.
A response in case something unexpected happened, like the Vampires joining the fray. The elite were prepared to deal with supernatural interference. But since the Vampires had made no move... and there was no sign of outside aid...
They decided it was time to attack.
But the universe had other plans.
As the lead car sped forward, the driver caught something strange out of the corner of his eye.
Just for a second, it opened right in front of them.
And from it, a blur shot out like a bullet.
The next thing the driver saw was his windshield collapsing in on itself. A body had slammed directly into the front of the vehicle with so much force that the entire car folded like paper around the impact.
Metal screeched. Glass shattered.
The car had practically wrapped itself around the figure that had emerged from the portal.
Panic surged through the rest of the convoy.
The vehicles behind swerved and slammed on their brakes. But there was no time to react properly, they had no idea what had just happened.
Amidst the chaos, something moved in the wreckage.
Breaking through the crumpled hood of the destroyed car, a figure rose, standing tall atop the crushed metal.
His chest heaved slowly, steam rising from his transformed body.
Impaled through one of his horns, pierced and bleeding, was the limp form of a Werewolf soldier.
Even with the elite Werewolves clad in reinforced armor and armed with the best weapons the Dark Guild could provide, it hadn’t mattered.
Austin had charged in with one of his most powerful attacks, the same technique that had left Lupus wounded in their last battle. He unleashed it the moment he arrived, catching the enemy completely off guard.
A thunderous impact. Bones snapped. Metal crushed. Bodies were thrown like ragdolls.
The elite fighters hadn’t even had time to transform.
Some of them had begun shifting into their Werewolf forms mid-attack, hoping that the transformation might boost their healing abilities and help them survive. But it was pointless.
And he held nothing back.
With ruthless precision, he finished off those still clinging to life, smashing, piercing, and tearing through their ranks before they could organize a defense. There was no hesitation in his strikes. No wasted movements. He was a force of nature, answering violence with even greater violence.
In one of the cars toward the middle of the convoy, a pair of eyes caught something in the rearview mirror.
A former Ironfang. One who had previously fought Midwak... and retreated.
He narrowed his eyes.
Standing atop one of the crushed vehicles behind them was a lone figure. Muscular. Towering. Not a Werewolf.
“An Altered...? All the way out here?” Broodie muttered to himself. “Am I seeing things?”
It didn’t make sense.
All of the Altered should’ve been occupied, either injured, in retreat, or holding the line elsewhere. What was one doing here? Alone?
He blinked and glanced again at the mirror.
For a second, Broodie wondered if he had imagined the whole thing.
But when he turned his gaze forward again, his breath caught.
The Altered was now standing directly in front of him, blocking the road.
Even up close, it was hard to determine what kind of Altered it was. The figure looked mostly human, but something about the stance, the raw pressure in the air... it made Broodie uneasy.
Austin was lifting something, no, hefting something, above his head with both hands.
It was the same one he had arrived on.
“What the hell is he doing?!” Broodie shouted as his eyes widened.
With a roar, Austin flung the motorcycle like a weapon. It spun through the air like a blazing disc and slammed into one of the cars toward the flank of the convoy.
A burst of flame erupted from the collision, and the force shattered the vehicle’s wheels, causing it to spiral out of control. The car smashed against the guard rail, flipped, and skidded on its back across the asphalt in a hail of sparks and metal shards.
More cars began to swerve to avoid the wreckage.
Austin was already preparing to go after the next target when Broodie acted.
Lowering his window, Broodie stuck his head out and bellowed as loud as he could:
“Everyone STOP! Stop the damn cars!!”
Screeching tires. Slamming brakes. Chaos turned to a halt.
One by one, the remaining vehicles came to a complete stop. Doors swung open. Ninety-plus elite fighters stepped out into the open road, the dark night air filled with the sound of growls, armor clanking, and claws sharpening.
Bodies began to shift.
Muscles bulged. Fur rippled. Eyes glowed.
One by one, they began transforming, some slowly, some instantly, into their Werewolf forms. Their weapons and armor adjusted to their new shapes, crafted specifically to function in both human and hybrid states.
They weren’t holding back anymore.
Not after that display.
“It appears,” Broodie said as he stepped out of his own vehicle, “we’ve got a troublesome one to deal with before we can move on.”
He locked eyes with the Altered standing ahead.
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