“Give up, Star Emperor—you’ve already lost,” Chris’s voice cracked through the trees, sharp as a whip. “A few humans and one injured man—how can you keep resisting?”

  Lian’s sneer sliced the hush, eyes glinting with malice. “And I hope you remember,” he said, “the tea I brought you every day contained a small dose of radioactive toxin. Your strength isn’t nearly as great as you think it is.”

  Radioactive toxin. The words landed heavier than the scent of blood and gunpowder—one of the deadliest poisons across parallel universes, designed to unravel Teleopean vitality at the root. It would rot the body from within, destabilizing every cell, until even the strongest flesh became as fragile as wet paper.

  Chen didn’t answer. He simply stared at his enemies, eyes fathomless, the silence between them stretching until it seemed the whole forest held its breath. No one moved. The three sides stood locked in a tableau of violence and dread. Only the wind moved, threading through the branches, carrying the metallic tang of blood and the distant, electric whine of insects.

  Yan Qing. Lanice. Six o’clock. There’s a military jeep. I’ll hold Lian and Chris here. You take Lan and run to the jeep. Now.

  The thought wasn’t spoken aloud, but it landed in Yan Qing’s mind with the force of a command. He and Lanice exchanged a look—shock, fear, understanding—then turned to Chen, who stood between them and the monsters, his profile calm, almost gentle. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, as if to reassure them: I will hold the line.

  Chen raised his anion rifle, the weapon humming with pent-up energy, and took a stance that radiated lethal intent. Lian and Chris tensed, muscles coiling, ready to strike.

  And Lanice—Yan Qing has a global positioning system on him. You must get him to the temporary army camp. Then try to contact Xiao and the others.

  Yan Qing’s face twisted with helpless pain. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles blanched. He wanted to stay, to fight, to do something—anything—but he knew the truth: he would only be in the way. Powerless and furious, he could only obey.

  Chen—

  He stared at that perfect profile, memorizing it, the way the light caught in Chen’s hair, the way his eyes never wavered.

  Now. Go.

  The world snapped into motion. Chen launched forward like a bullet, charging straight at Lian, the anion rifle in his hands roaring as it fired at Chris. The air split with a thunderous crack. Anions detonated the instant they struck Chris, the blast hurling him backward as if struck by a god’s fist.

  Yan Qing wanted to stay—wanted to help—but he forced himself to turn and run. He sprinted through the chaos, heart hammering, the taste of fear sharp on his tongue. Lanice hauled the unconscious Lan, and together they dove into the military jeep. Two other escorts scrambled in, faces pale, hands shaking.

  “Damn it!” Lanice cursed, tearing off the plastic casing around the ignition. There was no key. He yanked the wires loose, hands slick with sweat, and started trying to hotwire the engine.

  “Don’t run!” Chris’s voice was a guttural snarl now, his body shifting, monstrous, as he lunged toward the jeep.

  “He’s coming!” Yan Qing shouted, yanking out his pistol, finger trembling on the trigger.

  Hurry. Hurry!

  Lanice’s hands slipped on the wires, sweat streaming down his face. “Move!” someone screamed, panic rising.

  The wires crackled, sparks flying—and then, mercifully, the engine caught. Lanice slammed the accelerator, and the jeep shot forward, tires spitting mud, tearing toward the edge of the forest.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  But Chris—fully shifted, his serpent-like lower body skimming the ground—was nearly as fast, closing in with terrifying speed.

  “Your opponent is me, Chris.”

  A flash of gold filled Chris’s vision—Chen, intercepting him with inhuman grace. Chen swung his arm, the anion rifle whistling through the air like a blade. The impact was brutal, the sound of metal on flesh echoing through the trees as Chris was sent flying, crashing through the undergrowth.

  Chris tried to block the blow, but Chen’s strike landed with brutal force, sending him crashing through the undergrowth. The impact left a hollow in the earth where he landed, and for a moment, the only sound was the ragged rush of his breath.

  Chen’s gaze flicked to the edge of his vision—movement, fast and predatory. Lian was already upon him. Chen pivoted, intercepting Lian’s attack, their limbs colliding in a blur of motion. He twisted midair, absorbing the force, boots skidding across the leaf-littered ground as he landed.

  Lian recovered instantly, his face twisted with focus. He spun, launching a vicious kick toward Chen’s ribs. Chen twisted away, feeling the rush of air as the strike grazed past. Before he could regain his footing, Chris was back, circling behind, trying to coordinate with Lian and trap Chen between them.

  For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the three of them—each movement a test of strength and speed, every breath measured and sharp. Chen shifted his weight, reading the angles, and in a single, fluid motion, he changed position. His right hand caught Lian’s next attack, redirecting the force harmlessly aside. At the same time, his left arm swept behind him, the anion rifle coming up just in time to block Chris’s renewed assault.

  They locked together in a desperate struggle, bodies pressed close, the fight devolving into a raw contest of muscle and will. The forest floor churned beneath their feet, leaves and dirt flying as they grappled for dominance. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and gunpowder.

  Meanwhile, the jeep tore through the trees, engine roaring, headlights flickering over trunks and branches as it sped away from the chaos. The fight receded behind it, the three figures vanishing into the dense shadows of the forest.

  Inside the fleeing vehicle, Yan Qing couldn’t tear his gaze from the rear window. His unease grew with every passing second, swelling inside him until it threatened to choke off his breath. The memory of his nightmare pressed in—thick trees, jagged cliffs, the sense of being hunted. He touched the strange marks on his neck, feeling the raised, living lines that had already crept down his arm. The words—The Ultimate Weapon—echoed in his mind, heavy with dread.

  He froze, the nightmare and reality blurring together. In the dream, there had been trees just like these, cliffs just as sharp. He couldn’t shake the certainty that the past was repeating itself.

  “Stop! Lanice—stop the car!” Yan Qing’s voice broke, raw with panic.

  Lanice snapped, confusion and anger in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing, Yan Qing? If we go back, we’re just a burden!”

  “Yeah! You want us all to die?!” another survivor shouted from the back.

  “Stop—I’m begging you—if you don’t, Chen will die!” Yan Qing’s desperation made his voice crack. He grabbed Lanice’s arm, heedless of the speed, heedless of the danger.

  “Are you out of your mind?! We’re doing two hundred!” Lanice jerked the wheel, narrowly missing a tree, and slammed on the brakes. The jeep skidded to a halt, gravel and leaves spraying in all directions.

  Someone snarled, “Lieutenant, he’s lost it—tie him up!”

  “Shut up!” Lanice barked, then turned on Yan Qing. “Tell me what’s going on!”

  “You leave. I’m going back for Chen.” Yan Qing tore off his wristband and shoved it into Lanice’s hand. “This can contact Xiao. Find him and tell him to come now!”

  “Yan Qing! If you go back, you can’t do anything!”

  “I know.” Yan Qing’s smile was helpless, almost broken. He jumped out of the jeep before anyone could stop him.

  Lanice stared after him, torn between duty and friendship. In the end, he could only say, “Be careful.”

  Yan Qing nodded, then turned and ran back into the darkness, the cold wind biting at his face, the forest swallowing him whole. He prayed—silently, desperately—that the nightmare would not come true, that some higher power would hear him and spare Chen.

  Halfway back, he ducked behind a rock, heart pounding. Thirty meters ahead, shadows moved—three or four Fenreigan, their scaled bodies glinting in the moonlight as they searched the undergrowth.

  Yan Qing’s breath came fast and shallow. He gripped his gun so tightly his knuckles ached. He listened, then risked a glance.

  A reptilian face stared back at him, eyes cold and hungry.

  “Found you, human!” The creature’s grin was all teeth and malice as it lunged, claws outstretched.

  Yan Qing jerked aside, planted his feet, and fired. The shot struck the Fenreigan in the chest, and the heavy body collapsed, limbs twitching once before going still.

  Yan Qing stared at the corpse, hands shaking. They’re not human, he told himself. They’re not human. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced it down, jaw set. He aimed at the other two, firing twice more. Both bodies dropped before they could react.

  There was no time for guilt—only a cold, grim gratitude that his grandfather had taught him to shoot.

  “Wait for me, Chen,” Yan Qing whispered, voice breaking as he ran. “Don’t leave me behind…”