Dance Floor Massacre

A deafening crash ripped through the club. Glass exploded. Screams followed, sharp and raw.

The bass still thumped beneath the chaos, useless now. Someone shoved past Elion's table.

Another tripped, scrambling to get up.

"AAAAAH!"

Everyone was running for their lives and pushing toward the exits. The tables were knocked over.

Elion's heart raced as he tightened his grip around his glass of orange juice—as if he was trying to save it from flying, too.

The club had turned into a stampede.

The mood in the club changed suddenly. Panic took over the fun atmosphere as if someone had switched it from "party" to "run for your life."

Jordan sat up straight; he had completely forgotten about his cola. Elion noticed that Jordan's eyes were wide with curiosity, not fear, as he looked around.

"What's going on?!" Jordan shouted to be heard above the loud noise by whoever could hear it.

Elion was unsure how to respond because he sensed that something was wrong.

Seriously wrong.

Then, they spotted Raymond.

Raymond—the guy who usually threw the first punch—was frozen. His fists were tight but his arms were frozen. His breathing was too shallow, his eyes glued on to something beyond the crowd.

Elion had never seen Raymond hesitate before.

Raymond looked as helpless as a warrior who just realized he had forgotten his sword at home.

"W-wh-what… is that?" Raymond muttered in a tremble.

That was enough to set off every alarm in Elion's head. If Raymond wasn't jumping in to break skulls, then this wasn't just some bar fight gone too far. This was something worse.

Slowly, Elion and Jordan turned to follow Raymond's gaze, expecting—hoping—to see something that made sense.

Maybe a gang fight, maybe some drunk guy waving a weapon around. Anything logical.

But what they saw instead sent every nerve in Elion's body into overdrive. They saw it. Just a few feet away from Raymond. Too near.

It wasn't moving. It was standing still, watching with a bloodshot eyes. This was the cause of the panic, no doubt.

As if that was not creepy enough, the thing smiled.

What they saw should've been impossible. It should've been something straight out of a nightmare.

At first, it looked like a bear. But, as everyone squinted their eyes to focus, they something far worse.

It was not a real bear.

No—something worse.

It had a massive and heavy body. Every part of its body was covered in a thick and tangled fur. Its arms were strong and long with clawed paws that dripped with fresh blood.

And then it turned. Elion's breath caught. Its face wasn't an animal's. It wasn't even monstrous.

It was human.

A man's face—twisted in a sick, delighted smile. Watching them. Enjoying this.

As Elion looked around, the realization hit like a freight train.

Then Elion saw them. The bodies.

Not unconscious. Not moving.

They were dead.

His brain yelled repeatedly, "Run! Run!"

But his body refused to listen. His heart pounded against his ribs, hammering like it was desperate to flee—but his legs? They stayed locked in place, heavy and unresponsive, as if fear had chained them to the floor.

Every survival instinct in him revolted. This wasn't a fight. This wasn't human. This was wrong.

Seeing how brutally murdered the victims were, Elion could not help but almost vomit on the spot. Well, a few other people had already beaten him to that.

Beside him, Jordan spoke quietly, clearly shocked. "A... bear-man?"

The bear-man moved his head slightly. Then, as if things weren't already terrible enough, his smile grew wider.

His eyes? Fixated on Raymond who was nearby.

And just like that—it moved. Before anyone could react, the bear-man lunged.

It wasn't fast. It didn't need to be. Every step was deliberate, calculated, like it knew exactly how this would end.

No wasted movements. No hesitation. And always, that smile.

And that was what made Raymond freeze.

His usual confidence, his instinct to fight, completely shut down. He just stood there, wide-eyed, as the bear-man swung its massive paw straight at him.

"Move! You idiot!" Jordan moved first while his mouth cursing. He didn't think. He moved.

His body acted before his brain could even register what he was doing. The bear-man's clawed paw was already mid-swing, tearing through the air like a wrecking ball with Raymond's name on it. Jordan threw himself forward, his shoulder slamming into the beast's torso with everything he had.

The impact was instant regret. Pain shot through Jordan's ribs like he had tackled a moving car, but he gritted his teeth and pushed harder, twisting just enough to knock the attack slightly off course.

But, it wasn't enough.

Even with Jordan's interference, the sheer momentum behind the swing was monstrous. Despite the effort, Jordan could only make the claws missed. But the paw managed to find its target.

CRACK.

The sound was sickening. It echoed through the club but did not manage to cut through the chaos. In fact, it turned chaotic. People becoming more panic as they believed another victim had fallen.

Raymond's body jerked violently. The impossible happened as his feet lifted off the ground for a terrifying split-second. As if that was not enough, the force sent him flying before he was slammed into a wooden table.

The wood shattered under the force, splinters and glass flying in every direction which injure the people nearby.

Raymond barely had time to react. One second, he was standing. The next, the ground decided to introduce itself—hard. He hit the floor hard, pain jolting through his body like a faulty circuit. His limbs twitched on instinct, his nerves catching up a second too late.

For a brief moment, all he could do was lie there, waiting for his brain to process just how badly that hurt.

"Arghhh!"

He sucked in a sharp breath. Only if he knew that was a big mistake. Pain exploded through his ribs like he'd just lost a wrestling match with a sledgehammer. His left arm dangled at his side, bent in a way that arms definitely weren't supposed to bend.

Not unless you were some kind of rubber-limbed circus performer, which, unfortunately, he wasn't. He tried to wiggle his fingers. No luck. They barely twitched like they were on strike. His breathing came in uneven gasps, every inhale a fresh reminder that, yep, his body was officially wrecked.

"Raymond!"

His name rang out across the club, his teammates' voices sharp with panic. A few of them rushed toward him, their eyes darting between their fallen leader and the thing still looming in the chaos—like they couldn't decide which was more terrifying.

Jordan was already moving. He skidded to a stop beside Raymond and dropped into a crouch, his usual cocky expression nowhere to be found.

"Shit—Ray, talk to me. Can you move?" Jordan's voice cut through the noise, urgent and sharp. His eyes flicked between Raymond and the monster—because, naturally, it was already getting back up. No such thing as an easy fight.

His teammates reached for him, trying to help, but the moment they made contact, a fresh wave of pain crashed over him. His vision blurred, his breath hitched—like fire had been poured straight into his veins. He barely kept himself from blacking out.

"F-fuck—don't touch me," Raymond snarled, his breathing ragged.

Jordan's jaw tightened. That was bad.

Raymond—the same guy who could take a beating like it was just another Tuesday—was barely holding it together.

One of the red-team guys kneeled next to him, eyes wide. "Dude… what's broken?"

Raymond let out a breathy, bitter chuckle, then winced so hard he nearly collapsed. "Left arm... Shoulder..."

He swallowed, his forehead slick with sweat. "But if we're being specific? My shoulder's completely—" He sucked in another pained breath, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw twitched. "—shattered."

Elion finally caught up, breathless, and he heard it. His stomach dropped.

Shattered?

His gaze snapped to Raymond's shoulder—the way it sagged forward, unnaturally low—and suddenly, the severity of the situation slammed into him like a freight train.

A single hit. That was all it took.

A single hit had turned Raymond—one of the toughest guys they knew—into this.

If that had been a partial hit, what would've happened if Jordan hadn't interfered?

He didn't want to find out.

And judging by the way Jordan slowly stood, shoulders squared, neither did he.

Elion's hands fumbled for his phone. He pulled it out and immediately dialed the police.

His fingers felt awkward, but he managed to press the call button and turn on the speaker.

Luckily, the bear-man was too busy dealing with the others.

As soon as the dispatcher answered, Elion spoke fast.

"There's been an attack—uh, a violent attack at Xylo Club," Elion said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We need officers now. People are dead, and—" He glanced at the bear-man, who was still looming over the club like something out of a horror movie. "—there's a suspect. He's still here. Very dangerous."

"We have units nearby," the dispatcher responded. "They'll be there in minutes."

Elion exhaled, lowering the phone. "Police are on their way," he told Jordan and Raymond. "In a few minutes."

Jordan scoffed. "Yeah? And how many people are gonna die in a few minutes if we don't do something?"

Elion swallowed hard. Jordan wasn't wrong. A few minutes was too long for their case.

Jordan clenched his fists, standing up. "I'm stopping him."

But before Jordan could take a single step, Raymond grabbed his arm with his good hand and pulled him back.

"Don't be a fool, Jordan," Raymond snapped. His voice was rough as he was bearing the pain. "I'm sturdier than you, and look what happened."

Jordan went still. He clenched his jaw and tightened his body as if he was trying to hold himself back.

Elion's mind raced. They couldn't just sit here. But if even Raymond—got destroyed in one hit, then what were they supposed to do?

He took a deep breath. They needed a plan. And they needed it fast.

He looked around.

People were screaming in the club and trying to escape. The chaos continued as they searched for any exit they could find. But the bear-man—the thing—wasn't chasing after them.

That was what made Elion pause. The bear-man's action was weird. 

Despite Jordan landing a hit earlier, the monster hadn't focused on him at all. Instead, it swung wildly at those nearby. Its movements were terrifyingly strong but not smart.

"Wait a minute..." Elion muttered as he narrowed his eyes, tracking its movements.

It wasn't picking targets—just swinging at... whatever was closest.

Realization hit.

"His vision's limited," Elion muttered, his pulse spiking.

Jordan and Raymond snapped their heads toward him. They looked back at the creature, watching its erratic movements, and suddenly, it clicked.

It wasn't tracking Jordan when he dodged. It wasn't picking specific targets. It was attacking whatever was closest.

Jordan narrowed his eyes. "You might be right."

Raymond groaned, still clutching his shoulder. "Doesn't change the fact that things can rip people apart like paper."

True. The sheer power behind its swings was no joke. It had already split tables open with its bare hands—or paws, or whatever the hell those were. If it did land a clean hit, the fight was over.

Elion clenched his fists. His logical brain screamed at him to run. There was no reason to stay. This wasn't his fight.

But then, his gut told him something else. After what this thing had done—after seeing the bodies—how could he just leave?

And if he was being honest with himself… after his conversation with Jordan earlier, after realizing how dull his life had been—he was thrilled for danger like this.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' Elion was confused.

Still, he wasn't reckless.

They needed to buy time. But for what? Elion wasn't sure. Maybe for the police to arrive. Maybe for the monster to run out of energy. He didn't know why, but something inside him told him that was the key.

"We need to stall him," Elion said, determination setting in.

Jordan looked at him, then at the creature, and smiled. "I was hoping you would say that."

Before Elion could stop him, Jordan moved—closing the distance fast.

"Wait—!" Elion yelled.

But Jordan wasn't listening. He was already too close.

Elion knew exactly what Jordan was thinking. If he wanted to make a name for himself in the world of Tarung, this was the kind of fight he'd want to take—even though Tarung never involved fighting monsters.

But this wasn't a normal fight. Elion couldn't just stand there. He needed to do something—fast.

However, he needed to do something about Raymond and the others, too.

"Take Raymond and anyone you can save out of here," Elion ordered. The red team nodded and moved hurriedly.

Meanwhile, Jordan was baiting the bear-man, dodging its massive swings with terrifying precision. He ducked, rolled, and sidestepped, but Elion could see it—Jordan was barely keeping up. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and he'd be sent flying.

'I need to help. Fast.'

Elion's mind raced. He wasn't strong enough to go toe-to-toe with that thing. But he didn't have to beat it—he just had to throw it off.

His eyes darted around, searching for anything useful. Then, he spotted it—a stack of half-empty beer bottles near the bar, glistening under the club's neon lights.

'That'll do.'

Elion grabbed one, took a deep breath, and launched a perfect strike.

The bottle soared through the air and smashed right against the creature's temple, shattering on impact. The beast flinched, more from the sudden burst of liquid and shards than the actual force.

It barely reacted—until Elion grabbed another.

CRASH!

This one hit the beast's shoulder, spraying glass and liquid into its fur. The monster recoiled, shaking itself off, its swings becoming slightly more sluggish.

'Not enough.'

Elion's mind shifted gears. He needed something—anything—that could slow the beast down. His eyes darted through the wreckage—broken bottles, overturned chairs, scattered debris—until they locked onto something nearby.

A fire extinguisher.

'Perfect.'

He lunged for it, yanked it free from its mount, and gripped the handle. No time to think. He pulled the pin, aimed, and squeezed the lever.

PSSHHHH!

A freezing white cloud blasted straight into the monster's face.

The reaction was immediate. The beast recoiled, snarling, its bloodshot eyes squeezed shut as the thick foam clung to its fur. It shook its head violently, disoriented, its claws swinging blindly through the mist.

Elion didn't hesitate. He tightened his grip on the extinguisher, stepped forward, and—

WHAM!

He swung the metal canister like a hammer, smashing it directly into the bear-man's face.

The impact was brutal. The beast's head snapped backward, its skull making a sickening crack against the force. It stumbled, disoriented, a deep, guttural growl tearing from its throat as it struggled to regain its footing.

Elion sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse hammering.

"That worked," he muttered.

But it wasn't down. Not yet.

Instead, now it was pissed.

The beast turned, bloodshot eyes locking onto Elion. Its lips curled back into a snarl, saliva dripping from its fangs.

Elion smirked. "That's right. Look at me, dumbass." He was actually ready to run despite of his false bravado.

Jordan, now free from the relentless assault, noticed what was happening and grinned. "Damn, dude! You're insane!"

But then, a deep, guttural roar erupted from the bear-man's throat as its massive arms twitched. Muscles trembled. Its hulking frame wavered. And then—it started shrinking.

The fur melted away, revealing pale, sweat-drenched skin beneath. Muscles twisted and shrank, bones cracking as they slowly snapped into human proportions.

Elion took a step back. His heart pounded. He had no idea what he had just done—whether it was the shock, the exhaustion, or something else entirely.

But one thing was clear.

The fight had just turned in their favor.

"What the hell is happening?" Jordan muttered in disbelief. "It's a human?!"

The monster was gradually becoming human again.

People who had been hiding looked out from their hiding spots, their eyes wide with fear. But then, another reality hit—bodies were everywhere.

Some of the survivors looked around at the carnage, and the moment the weight of it all sank in, several of them vomited or fainted on the spot.

Elion exhaled, his heart still hammering. But it wasn't over yet.

The man—if he could still be called that—staggered, then ran.

Too fast.

His bare feet slammed against the floor, slipping on blood but never stopping. He lunged toward the exit.

Elion's body moved before his brain could catch up. "Jordan—"

"Yeah, I know!"

They ran.

Straight into a night that would change everything.

Forever.