While the brute continued talking, Christian was gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. The way this brute talked about making Lilith his woman… did that mean he planned to rape her? To even think of committing such a sin was abominable, but to talk about it so easily? Even if Lilith was a succubus, no one deserved to have that happen to them. What this man suggested was unforgivable.
It was clear to Christian now. This man did not deserve the title of human. He would be shown no mercy.
No more words were spoken. Christian slid into his fighting stance. Leading with his right hand and right foot, he raised both hands, one in front of his face, and the other near his left collarbone. His knees bent as he lightly bobbed up and down, keeping on the balls of his feet. While the southpaw and orthodox stances often had boxers keep their feet flat and planted firmly on the ground to generate more force, Christian relied more on speed than strength, and thus preferred keeping his footing light.
“Hmph,” his muscle-bound enemy snorted when he saw the stance. “Just as I thought. You have some training, but you’re no fighter.”
He uncrossed his arms and slid into his own stance. His left foot slid forward and further to the right until his feet were shoulder width apart. He bent the forward leg at a forty-five-degree angle while the rear leg remained straight. Both his hips and shoulders remained squarely facing forward, oriented toward Christian.
Christian recognized the stance. Often called the front stance, it was also referred to as forward-leaning stance and sometimes just the forward stance. It was a facet of combat used primarily in Japanese and Korean martial arts, such as karate and its many variants. Some of the Executioners who specialized in hand-to-hand combat used it when they fought. It allowed them to generate more power moving forward, but very little in any other direction.
“Now come on, you little pansy!” the hulking brute roared in challenge. “Let’s see what you’re made of!”
Despite the challenge being issued, Christian didn’t move forward. He instead opted to narrow his eyes at his opponent, recalling everything he knew about the front stance.
That stance, while dangerous in the hands of a skilled practitioner, limited how much a person could move. A fighter could only go forward, any other direction required them to shift their body in such a way that all the power they generated was lost, and any attack made became ineffective. Either this man was incredibly arrogant in thinking that he could beat Christian with a stance like that, or this monstrosity of muscle actually knew what he was doing.
Given his earlier words about Christian not being a fist-fighter, he was inclined to believe the latter. And so he remained where he was, waiting for his enemy to make the first move.
“Tch, fine. If you won’t attack me, then I’ll attack you!”
The large fighter blasted off the ground, utilizing all the forward power granted to him through the front stance. He bulldozed toward Christian at speeds that shouldn’t have been possible for someone so large. He was faster even than most Olympic sprinters.
Christian’s eyes widened as, within less than a second, his enemy was upon him and preparing to launch a devastating attack. He saw the man’s hulking muscles bunch and tense, like a coiled spring just waiting to be unleashed.
When the attack came, his eyes almost missed it—no, they did miss it. It was only thanks to his heightened reflexes and spatial awareness that he managed to dodge, ducking down and rolling along the ground.
He kipped up to his feet and turned around, hoping to use the man’s reliance on the front stance to his advantage. If he could just launch a powerful jab at his opponent’s spinal column, he could easily paralyze the brute and deal a finishing blow.
His plan to deal with the hulking brute swiftly and efficiently was all for naught. That plan had failed the moment the fight started. He just hadn’t realized it.
By the time Christian turned around, the man’s stance had shifted from front stance to back stance, a reverse variant of the forward-leaning stance, but designed to generate power by moving backward.
The brute’s right foot slid along the ground, his left leg lifting up to his chest at the same time. The left foot was then launched at Christian with speed as the man extended his leg, which appeared as nothing more than a brief flicker of movement. Christian only had enough time to bring his arms up in a cross guard before the kick struck.
Like the rumbling of thunder, the heel of his enemy’s boot slammed into his arms with bone-shattering force. Christian bit back a cry of pain as his guard broke. Rather than let himself be felled by another brutal attack, he moved with the blow in order to mitigate the damage as best he could. He rolled backward along the ground, landed back on his feet, and then threw himself to the side, as the clearly dangerous man tried ramming into him.
Dust kicked up as his enemy’s hulking form stomped along the pavement. When he came to a stop, he did so by putting his left foot forward, bending his knee to absorb the shock of impact and force kinetic energy to build up in his leg. He then used that energy to launch himself at Christian with blistering speed that was just barely within human parameters.
It was still too fast for Christian to follow. There was no time to respond as the man lashed out with his fist in a lightning-quick jab. The attack smashed against Christian’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying backward for several meters. Even after he struck the ground, Christian’s body continued moving, rolling along the pavement, each impact jarring his bones and sending jolts of agony like electric currents straight to his brain. It was only after crashing into a brick wall on the opposite end of the street that his body’s momentum halted, painfully.
As he lay there on the ground, all Christian could do was gasp in asphyxiated agony. His chest felt like it had been compressed, like a large building had fallen on it. He was sure that last attack had broken a few ribs. At the very least, he would have some serious bruises tomorrow morning.
Coughing and gasping as he tried sucking oxygen into his air-depraved lungs, Christian slowly clambered to his feet. He had to get up. There was no telling what his opponent would do if he didn’t. When he finally stood up, his body almost gave out, forcing him to lean against the wall for support.
Footsteps alerted him to his enemy’s approach. Looking up, Christian glared at the hulking man with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth.
His short blond hair shone briefly as he stood under a lamp. The brute grinned maliciously, as if the pain Christian felt intoxicated him.
It was in complete contrast to Christian, who felt like an entire pantheon of angry gods had been whaling on him.
“Is that all you’ve got?” the brute asked in a mocking tone. “I didn’t expect much, but I at least expected you to be better than that.”
“You want more?” Christian grunted as he forced himself to stand without the wall for aid. His legs wobbled precariously, but he forced them to keep still. Taking a deep breath, he held it, and then let it out as he calmed his racing heart. “Fine. I didn’t want to use this on you, but it looks like I have no choice.”
“So you were holding back, were you?” The brute grunted as he raised his right hand to his shoulder and tilted his head from side to side. Loud cracking issued from his neck. He then set himself in the front stance again, that unholy-looking grin still plastered on his face. “It doesn’t matter if you were holding back, there’s no way you can beat me.”
Christian didn’t say anything. There was no longer any need to talk. He slowly walked onto the street. stopping several meters from his opponent. He didn’t raise his hands, nor did he set himself in a stance. Instead, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.
His heart rate plummeted rapidly as he focused on stilling his body and expanding his spatial awareness. The world became still. Neither opponent moved from their spots. Christian’s posture relaxed further as he sank deeper and deeper into his trance. He could feel
his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm. He could hear the breeze as blew through the street, and feel the directional shifts in the wind as it brushed against his skin. He could even hear the steady yet agitated breathing of his opponent, and sense the minute atmospheric changes as the brute shifted from one foot to the other.
Stillness such as this could not last. The pause was broken when his enemy grew impatient and charged him. Like a bull seeing red, the man rushed forward, no doubt intent on ending the fight now. He was upon Christian in less than a second, his left fist already extending in a swift, earth-shattering jab.
It never hit. Moving as if he had known the attack was coming long before his opponent launched it, Christian flowed around the fist. He moved to the left, leading with his left foot and sidestepping. At the same time, his right hand shot forward, pounding against the brute’s torso. His left hand followed, launching another strike against the man’s back. And then the hulking fighter was running past him, stopping only a few feet away.
Christian hissed in pain, bringing his hands up to his face and looking at them. Even in the dim light provided by the streetlamps, he could see how swollen his hands were, red and throbbing, his knuckles battered and bruised. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. By the Almighty! Just what was that brute made of? Stone?
The brute turned around and chuckled at him.
“Heh-heh, did you honestly think such a weak attack would hurt me? My body is far tougher than most. A pathetic pinprick of an attack like that won’t do a thing to me.”
Christian clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes. If an attack like that didn’t do anything, then he needed to take more extreme measures to beat this man. Christian’s hope had been to inflict enough damage on the brute that he passed out, but it didn’t look like that would be possible.
He needed to do something else. Something extreme. It wasn’t something that he was going to enjoy, but it seemed like he might actually have to kill this man.
God, please forgive me for what I’m about to do.
Calming himself again, he watched as the brute charged him, stepping into his guard within seconds. He left his right flank deliberately open, and the brute took the bait just as he had expected.
Like water flowing around the rock impeding its path, Christian swerved around the speeding fist. He sidestepped to the right, his hair ruffling from the breeze that the fist generated. He then grabbed the extended limb, and used the strength of his arms and torso to lift himself over the fist.
He flew into the air, twisting and flipping until he stood on his enemy’s outstretched arm. When his feet touched the extended limb, his right hand flew into his shoe and pulled out the butterfly knife. Quicker than greased lightning, the blade extended, and Christian plunged it into his enemy’s throat.
The brute’s eyes widened as the knife pierced his larynx. Blood gushed from the wound, spilling down his neck and staining his shirt.
Christian hiked himself off his enemy’s limb and, like a professional acrobat, flipped over the brute. He landed on the ground some distance away. When he stood back to his full height, he turned his head to watch his enemy.
The brute brought his hands up to his throat, as if trying to plug the wound spilling carnelian liquid down the front of his shirt. It wouldn’t do him any good. Christian had pierced his left subclavian artery. There was no way to stop a wound like that. He would bleed out within a few seconds.
True to Christian’s prediction, the man soon fell to his knees. For a moment, he struggled to get back up, but after several seconds passed, his arms dropped limply to his sides and he fell flat on his face. His body lay still after that.
Christian sighed. Closing his eyes and turning away from the sight, he said a quick prayer to God, begging forgiveness for the sin of killing another human. It was all he could do now.
When he finished praying, he slowly walked away from his makeshift battleground. He would call Headquarters when he arrived at the hotel, and have them send someone to pick up the body before anyone noticed.
“He… he… he…”
He stopped.
“He-he-he…”
His eyes widened. Impossible!
“Ha-ha-ha!”
The corpse was laughing!
“Hahahaha!”
Christian turned his head in shock and horror as something that shouldn’t have been possible happened right before his eyes. The corpse moved. The muscles in its back twitched, its left hand raised and planted itself firmly on the ground, the right hand following suit. Slowly, the body pushed itself onto its knees, and then its feet. It soon stood to its full height, its back facing Christian.
And then it turned around.
“Ha… you’re good.” The brute’s grin reminded him of a deranged serial killer. “I didn’t expect you to bring a weapon to a fistfight. It looks like I underestimated you.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t think that’ll happen again. From this point on, I’m going to be taking you seriously.”
Taking him seriously? Did that mean he hadn’t been taking Christian seriously before? Well, obviously, if the man was still alive after having his artery stabbed, then he must have some tricks up his sleeve.
While he was thinking this, Christian noticed that the wound he had inflicted, the one that should have killed the brute, was gone. Vanished. As if the wound had never been inflicted in the first place.
Christian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not human.”
“Got it in one,” the brute applauded mockingly. “I’m surprised you came to that conclusion so quickly. But then, I guess there are some humans who know about our existence. It would make sense. I hope you don’t think this knowledge will give you a leg up on me or anything. Like I said, I’m getting serious now.”
The man soon proved how true his statement was when his body suddenly changed. Doubling over like his body was experiencing incredible agony, the man’s muscles rippled and expanded as blood started pumping through them at an increased rate. His clothing ripped—first his shirt, then the bottom legs of his pants. The front of his boots also tore open, revealing clawed, hairy feet.
More changes took place. His face grew longer, the nose and mouth expanding outwards to form a muzzle. His eyes sank into his head, and his brow ridge thickened, becoming more prominent. His teeth, once human-looking and ordinary, suddenly became razor sharp and looked like they could easily rend flesh, muscle and bone.
The last change that took place was his body sprouting massive quantities of fur. Starting from his head and working its way down, thick brown, almost black, fur grew out of his pores, covering almost every part of his body, the exceptions being his chest, stomach, triceps, and the palms and soles of his hands and feet.
“A werewolf,” Christian whispered, already cursing his luck. Intelligence had really dropped the ball on this. Not only had they possibly mistaken Lilith for a succubus, they either didn’t know of, or had neglected to mention, a werewolf. Whoever was in charge of gathering information in this city was obviously an idiot.
At least now he knew how that man had brought those other six guys together. Werewolves always traveled in packs, and lone werewolves had the ability to make pacts with humans through their innate charisma.
“Hahahahaha-ha! That’s right, boy!” The werewolf cackled and growled, his voice far deeper than before. It sounded more animal than human. “I’m a werewolf! And now I’m gonna tear you apart!”
Chapter 11
There were many different creatures inhabiting the world that presented a grave threat to humanity: Vampires, werewolves, demons, succubi, incubi, mermaids, and sirens were only some of the more prevalent monsters lurking in the shadows cast by humans.
Of those many species, a few stood near the top of the food chain. Vampires were one of them. Werewolves were another.
There were many legends concerning the origins of werewolves, but no theories had ever been confirmed. What the Executioners did know was that werewolves had several powerful a
bilities that allowed even the weakest of them to stand a cut above most monsters.
Foremost among those abilities was their insane speed. If vampires were the pinnacle of physical strength, with boulder-shattering capabilities, then werewolves were the embodiment of speed. They could travel faster than the top speed of most sports cars, and rumor had it that the fastest werewolf in recorded history could outpace a drag racer.
And it was a werewolf that Christian found himself running from. Fighting a werewolf wouldn’t normally be a problem for him. Despite their capacity for traveling at an incredible velocity, a werewolf’s movement was notoriously predictable. They could only move linearly, meaning the laws of physics and motion worked heavily against them. Only werewolves that had mastered their speed became truly dangerous.
Christian didn’t believe this werewolf was particularly dangerous. Wily perhaps, but not dangerous. That hardly mattered given his current situation. Injured and unarmed as he was, he might as well be just another human. He had no special attributes, and he didn’t take enhancement drugs to increase his physical abilities.
What made Christian so deadly on the battlefield wasn’t any special power or enhancement, but his unique fighting style. However, without his swords and his guns, that fighting style meant nothing. He might as well attack his enemy with a stick for all the good it would do him.
He’d managed to escape from the werewolf with a well-placed flashbang to the face. Werewolves had incredible senses, not just an extreme sense of smell but also perception. The flashbang would keep it blinded for a good while. Hopefully, that action would buy Christian enough time to grab his weapons and lead the beast to a battlefield of his choosing, one where he would hold all the advantages.
Thankfully, his hotel wasn’t far from where he’d been attacked. Despite how his muscles ached and his chest felt like it was being stabbed with a hot, rusty knife every time he took a breath, Christian still made it there in record time.
Succubus Page 13
