Lupo's True Power

In the apocalypse, the best way to win a fight was through surprise. Lucas Kane knew this instinctively. But the moment the bearded man across from him shouted threats with such open hostility, Lucas realized something was off.

No real killer warns their prey.

This was bait.

And then he saw it—the man's eyes flicked upward and behind Lucas for the briefest second.

An ambush.

Combat veterans never took their eyes off their enemy. That glance meant only one thing: someone was hiding behind him, ready to strike.

Lucas didn't hesitate. His body dropped into a roll, the riot shield sweeping out to cover his side.

CLANG!

The impact was deafening. A heavy arrow smashed into the shield's reinforced surface and ricocheted skyward, spinning through the air.

Sniper. With a bow. And probably concealed at elevation.

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

A well-coordinated ambush. Diversion. Flanking archer. Frontline fighters with melee weapons. They weren't dumb muscle. These raiders had training, instincts... they knew how to kill and survive.

If he were any other survivor, Lucas thought, they would've succeeded.

They could've become tyrants of this residential block.

But they picked the wrong target.

Behind the bearded man, the others had already begun fanning out.

"How the hell did he figure it out?" one muttered in disbelief.

"This guy's trouble... we can't let him live!"

"Kill him!"

The bearded man roared and charged, wielding a massive cleaver.

Meanwhile, the tattooed woman moved like a shadow, veering toward Lupo with predatory precision.

Lucas's grip tightened on his weapon.

Good. Let's test the Tang Sword.

He didn't fire his pistol. The infected were too close, lurking beyond the fences of the compound. One shot would bring them pouring in.

And then, even the best trap wouldn't save them.

He advanced instead.

"Lupo!" he shouted, "On my signal!"

The wolf pup snarled from his side.

Lucas met the bearded man head-on, blade raised.

The man smirked. Stupid move.

Lucas had abandoned his riot shield—a clear error, or so the man thought. With a group of four, they could've overwhelmed any solo target. And now their enemy had dropped his best defense.

Let him swing. I'll block with my chopping board, then we rush him.

The bearded man's confidence was palpable. His makeshift forearm shield was a thick, solid wood cutting board, bolted to leather straps. It had taken hits before—bats, axes, even meat cleavers. A simple Tang Sword? That would get stuck or bounce off.

He raised his arm to block—

SCHLIKT!

A flash of cold steel.

A wet slicing noise.

Then—nothing.

The man stared dumbly at the space where his forearm had been.

The Tang Sword had cut through the chopping board and his arm like butter. Blood geysered from the stump.

"AAAHHH!"

Before he could even finish the scream, Lucas's second slash came down.

SHLACK!

The man's head fell to the ground, rolling twice before hitting his companion's boot.

Blood sprayed in an arc, blinding the remaining raiders.

"The boss—?!"

"Kill him! Aveng—!"

They never finished their sentences.

Three rapid slashes.

Each one broke a weapon—bat, cleaver, kitchen knife—and followed through into flesh.

Cries of pain.

Then silence.

Within seconds, four men lay lifeless at Lucas's feet.

His breaths were calm. Steady. The Tang Sword gleamed in the dull sunlight, unstained by fatigue.

Battle complete.

But it wasn't over yet.

The tattooed woman had reached Lupo.

She hadn't expected the fight to end so quickly. Her new plan: use the pup as a hostage. He was small, fluffy, probably still inexperienced. Easy to grab, and Lucas would hesitate.

She tucked her knife away and lunged, aiming for the loose skin at the back of Lupo's neck—a known weak spot in canines.

But just as her fingers brushed his fur—

BOOM.

Lupo transformed.

In an instant, the white pup swelled in size, muscles bulging beneath his coat. From twenty centimeters tall to nearly two meters long, he became a monstrous wolf-beast, radiating bloodlust.

Fangs like knives. Eyes glowing with primal fury.

"What the—!?"

Too late.

CRUNCH!

His jaws closed around her forearm.

She screamed.

Lupo thrashed violently, flinging her like a ragdoll across the pavement. Her body hit the ground hard—then Lupo pounced again, dragging her screaming form in a brutal arc.

She lost a shoe. Blood poured from her side.

She gasped, eyes fluttering.

Only then did Lupo back off, growling, pacing in a wide arc around her body.

She lay there, coughing blood. Broken. Bleeding.

"P-please... Just kill me..." she rasped. "I don't want to turn into one of them..."

Lucas approached, silent.

She didn't flinch. She had no strength left to move.

Moments later, she went still.

Lucas stood over her and began counting.

"One... two... three..."

He watched. Waited.

At twenty-five seconds, her eyes snapped open.

Her veins had turned black, spiderwebbing across her face. Her pupils dilated. Her jaw twitched unnaturally.

THWAK.

Lucas drove his Tang Sword straight through her skull.

The light in her eyes vanished.

"Twenty-five seconds," he murmured. "That's how long it takes."

A valuable discovery.

Some might turn faster, some slower—but in most cases, death meant undeath in under thirty seconds.

Lucas wiped the blade clean, eyes calm.

He had won today's fight.

But this world wasn't going to get any easier.

And now, the game had entered its next phase.