Roy’s body felt almost weightless as it hung suspended in my grasp, a marionette whose strings I had just severed. A wild, electric thrill, hot and clean, shot through me. The raw, intoxicating taste of the System’s power. It was immediately followed by a wave of guilt so profound it felt like a physical blow. Vomit surged up my throat, hot and acidic, threatening to spill.

  I just murdered someone. I ended his life like it was nothing.

  The image of Roy grabbing Kira, of his greasy thumb hooked in her belt, flashed to the forefront of my mind. His wicked plans were evident in the lustful way he stared at her. The guilt didn't vanish, but the sickness ebbed. The cold, hard logic of the situation settled over me like a shroud. This was not a murder. This was a tactical solution to an immediate threat.

  This wasn’t the time to be thinking of this. There is still another threat. Focus!

  The crawling sensation across my skin had quieted now, that new sixth

  sense settling back into dormancy. It had screamed at me during the ambush, tried to warn me. I just hadn't understood the language yet.

  But I was learning.

  I released Roy, watching dispassionately as his lifeless body crumpled to the asphalt in a heap of worn denim and bad decisions. There was no time to process. There was only the next target.

  Quickly, I snatched up the fallen pistol from the ground next to him. It felt cheap and poorly balanced in my hand, a world away from my own service weapon, but it was loaded. It would have to do. My fingers tightened around the unfamiliar grip as I peeked through the back window of the police vehicle, using the frame for cover.

  Suddenly there was no more thinking. There was just the pistol in my hand, the feel of the cold steel grounding me as it did every time I brought a weapon to the range. It was my trusted companion. My world narrowed to the front sight post, the woman, and the sliver of space between her and my partner. Monica was twisting her head, her anxiety a palpable thing even from this distance.

  “Roy?” she called, her voice laced with a strung out, nasal confusion.

  Kira stood frozen, a perfect shield between us, her training absolute. She was making herself a wall, trusting me to see the shot, to take the shot, and not to miss. As Monica leaned around Kira to call out once more, her shoulder and head exposed for a single, fatal heartbeat, I moved.

  This was it, it was time to act.

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  My training took over. My breath exhaled in a slow, steady stream. The sight of the pistol was already lined up. With practiced precision, I gradually applied pressure to the trigger, riding it smoothly to the rear until the hammer fell.

  The gun recoiled sharply, the CRACK of the shot echoing deafeningly in the street, setting off the ringing in my ears once more. I didn't dare flinch or look away. The bullet struck her shoulder with a wet slap, the sound obscene in the sudden quiet. Monica inhaled sharply, a gasp of pure shock and agony, as she slumped to the ground. The shotgun slipped from her grasp and tumbled to the asphalt with a heavy, clattering thud.

  For a single, glorious heartbeat, we were winning.

  The warning sensation in my gut eased fractionally, one threat neutralized. But it didn’t disappear. It shifted, my sense of danger screamed at me.

  Threat Perception proficiency increase.

  Something bigger was coming.

  The sound of enormous footsteps, heavy and fast, validated my sixth sense. My head snapped in the direction of the sound, but it was already too late.

  “Oh shit!” I hissed, trying to lift the pistol as a twelve foot monster, another carbon copy of the nightmares from the farm, charged at me from just feet away.

  My finger tightened on the trigger, but a claw larger than my forearm swiped forward with blinding speed. It knocked the gun clean from my grip. The force sent a jolt of pain shooting up my arm, a vibration that I felt in my teeth, as the weapon clattered uselessly to the ground.

  Fuc—

  Before I could even finish the thought, the beast slammed into me. Its weight, a crushing, unstoppable force of muscle and scale, hit me like a freight train. The world tilted violently as my back collided with the pavement, air rushing from my lungs in a strangled gasp.

  The lizard was on top of me now, its massive jaws snapping mere inches from my face. A rancid stench of decay and sulfur poured from its mouth in suffocating waves, an unbearable mix of rotting flesh and sour bile that made me gag.

  I have to get up. My body screamed in protest as I thrashed, trying to find any leverage against the crushing weight. The monster’s claws dug into my side with brutal force, their sharp points tearing through fabric and flesh alike. A searing pain lanced through me, white hot and unrelenting, drawing a strangled cry from deep within my throat.

  My vision went dark as stars exploded behind my eyes. I was going to die. I was going to die here, on the hot asphalt, smelling this thing’s last meal. The thought cut through the pain with a terrible clarity.

  “Get… off!” I snarled, a surge of pure, defiant rage cutting through the agony. I will not die on my back. I will fight back.

  Both my hands shot up, my fingers finding purchase on the thick, bony ridges above its hateful yellow eyes. Think! I need a weapon! Anything!

  The memory of the Jian sword, the impossible, beautiful blade from the reward box, flashed through my mind. It was a ludicrous anchor in the storm of chaos, a piece of magic in a world of teeth and claws.

  Screw it! I thought, my desperation absolute. What else is there? Sword it is.

  I imagined the sword in my hand. I pictured the leather wrapped hilt, the perfect balance, the impossible sharpness.

  Just as the thought solidified, I felt something press into my right hand, its form materializing from nothing. My fingers instinctively clasped around a familiar, leather wrapped hilt that had appeared out of thin air.