C7 First Kill In Devils Wept

What…the…fuck?” she breathed, her eyes widening with utter disbelief.

I kill these wolves! I hit them dead with silver bullets! They were supposed to be dead! What the fuck is going on?

“Get away from here, you little fool!” Drex yelled at her, his handsome face filled with great concern. “Leave now while you still can, damn it! Don’t you get it? You can’t win this fight.”

But Lyra stood there like a hypnotized rabbit. She didn’t move. She couldn’t talk. The monstrosity unfolding right in front of her seemed to have glued her feet to the spot.

The wolves bared their evil-looking fangs at her. Then they all growled, and it sounded like the ear-shattering rumble of an old big truck's engine.

Darken pointed a finger at Lyra and yelled, “She wants our town, boys! Let her fucking bleed for it! Run the blood!”

Among the Greyhoof pack, ‘Run the blood’ was slang for attacking an enemy violently until they are dead.

The wolves howled once again—a bellowing, horrible, triumphant howl. Their devilish master had asked them to run the blood. They must obey their master.

Their eyes blazing with hatred, they drew their furry hind legs back, paws digging into the snow. With one final growl of rage that ripped the air, they lunged at Lyra.

From all angles. Swift. Deadly. Furious.

And that was when the real fight began.

One of the wolves crashed into Lyra, knocking her down powerfully. She let out a nerve-wrecking scream as she tumbled down to the gritty, snowy ground. Her guns fell from her hand.

White shock of pain raged violently through her body. She lay there for a few seconds, momentarily stunned.

But because she had undergone rigorous training, the pain didn’t weaken her. Instead, it fueled her sense of tactical defenses. Swiftly, she did a back-lift and got to her feet.

Then she grabbed one of her guns from the ground. She raised it and opened fire at the two nearest wolves, clenching her jaws tightly as she emptied the bullet clips on them.

The wolves moving across the snowy grounds saw the bullets coming. With an unknown, super-extraordinary speed, they swiped their bodies gracefully away from the hail of bullets.

The wolves dodged the bullets… the wolves fucking dodged the bullets!

Lyra was stupefied. How? How could wolves dodge fast-moving bullets? It’s unheard of!

Then, like a slap to her face, the truth hit her—these were not ordinary wolves. Drex had not lied. These were different kinds of wolf breeds, with perhaps some supernatural, mystical powers.

Unfortunately for her, the special tough training she had gone through never prepared her for this. Her anti-wolf guns were useless—total write-off. Right now, she was on her own.

At that moment, she didn’t even know whether to laugh or cry at her situation. The only thing she had now was to rely on her physical strength and fighting skills, which she knew were not strong enough to hold off these monsters.

From ten feet away, another wolf sprang.

For a dazzled instant, it seemed to suspend in the air—its grey, thick fur bristling, yellow eyes blazing hatred, muscles tensed, mouth drawn back to reveal powerful bone-cracking evil fangs—then it got to her.

Lyra had seen the wolf coming. She had waited patiently for it with frightening intensity. And when the wolf was almost onto her, she released a powerful air-swiping kick. The kick landed on the head of the wolf.

The wolf’s head gave a sickening crack of bone as the kick hit it. It fell to the ground, stunned, then sprang back to its feet, and it stumbled slightly. It shook its head powerfully to clear the buzzing, dizzying fog inside its skull. Then it stared hard at Lyra. Its green-yellow eyes breathed pure vengeance.

The wolf gave a furious, raging howl of defiance, drew back, and lunged at Lyra.

This time, it landed on her viciously.

Lyra crashed to the ground as the wolf's superior, violent strength hit her. With the wolf on top of her, Lyra punched powerfully at it with her fists, but her blows were like gentle, comforting patting against the wolf’s furry, big body.

The wolf didn’t even feel Lyra’s blows.

The wolf drew back its head. Its wicked black lips stretched back in a snarl of victory. Then it threw its head back down to sink its dangerous fangs into her skull.

Fortunately for her at that moment, Lyra instinctively figured out that killing any of Darken’s wolves now would take something savagely gruesome. She quickly slipped out a heavy, wicked-looking hunting knife from her boot.

Swiftly, she violently thrust the knife blade into the unprotected throat of the wolf and sank the knife through to its hilt. Her face contracted into super-painful intensity. Lyra yelled out, “Grrrrrahhhhhhh!” as she used every willpower in her body and, with the heavy blade, ripped the throats of the wolves apart up to their jaw. “Fucking die, bitch!” she screamed.

The wolf let out a horrible howl of agonized pain that was neither animal nor human. Thick hot blood splashed from its mouth, spilling over the whiteness of the snow, spraying over Lyra’s face and clothes.

The wolf’s powerful jaw was ripped apart. It staggered stupidly away from Lyra, and it growled… well, it sounded more like the yelp of a tortured dog.

Then it crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. And remained still. Dead still. Its mouth hung open in a disjointed, scary smile of death.

Lyra lay on the ground, totally drained. The bloody knife slipped out of her hands and fell to the ground. She was panting heavily. Cold sweats rolled off her face. Flakes of snow were all in her hair.

The wolf’s fresh blood was all over her face. It had soaked her clothes. Soaked her body. She was a bloody mess.

She couldn’t lift her arms. Her legs felt lifeless. She couldn’t even feel any of her body parts anymore. The sheer willpower she had used in tearing apart the wolf’s jaw had drained all her power, energy, and vitality.

She remained on the ground. Exhausted. Defenseless. Her eyes were swimming with dizziness.

Lyra had a feeling the wolves would finish her off now that she was tired and powerless to defend herself.

Well, at least I got one of them motherfuckers, she smiled to herself, feeling herself slipping away.

She managed to raise her head to look at where Darken was standing. She saw him staring down at her, shivering with anger because of the way she had killed one of his wolf crew. It pleased her immensely to see him angry this way.

Yeah, you bastard. Suck on this, Lyra thought as she raised her hand and gave Darken the finger.

Then her head fell softly back to the ground. She closed her eyes. Her head rolled sideways. And she lost consciousness.

The rest of the wolves were looking at their dead comrade, whom Lyra had killed. They gave their comrade one long, last look of respect. Then they all turned their attention back to Lyra.

Slowly but menacingly, they began to move towards her unmoving body.

Now, Drex, who had been watching the whole fight to see what the huntress could do—not because he was evil, but to know whether she was actually a skilled wolf huntress—was stunned beyond words.

He couldn’t believe what had happened.

This huntress killed a wolf! She killed a wolf from the Greyhoof pack all by herself. With a knife. With just a fucking knife!

It was incredible.

This had never happened before.