Chapter 126: Deception and Escape
The thick fog unleashed by the smoke bomb clung heavily to the air. Tendrils of white mist billowed through the narrow alley, obscuring everything from sight. The already dim passage had become a hazy labyrinth.
Sporadic gunshots shattered this atmosphere of suspense. Each blast was closely followed by the melodic ring of metallic clashes, creating a hypnotic rhythm that underscored the ferocity of the confrontation.
The occasional flame explosions briefly illuminated the opaque haze like pulses of lightning, giving fleeting glimpses of the battle underway. The flickering glow faintly outlined two shadowy silhouettes exchanging blows with blinding speed.
Amidst this chaos, the mutated monster continued to remain splayed limply across the filthy concrete. Its bulky frame was motionless except for faint, ragged breaths that barely stirred its chest.
To any onlooker, the creature seemed to teeter on the brink of death, its body bearing the marks of severe wounds inflicted during the preceding pursuit. However, contrary to appearances, it was anything but defeated.
This façade was a ruse, a deceptive ploy being utilized for self-preservation. The werewolf's limited intellect realized playing dead was its best chance of survival amidst the escalating mayhem.
Its extraordinary regenerative power toiled diligently to regain its mobility as the sounds of battle continued to echo around it. Muscle and sinew knitted together seamlessly, shattered limbs realigning and bone fragments fusing.
With the two extraordinary beings engaged in their fierce battle, their focus completely consumed by each other, it appeared to be the opportune time to seize the chance and attempt an escape.
Gathering its remaining strength, the mutated monster began slowly dragging itself forward. Each small movement ignited fresh waves of searing torment, but desperation drove it onwards.
Just a bit further and it would vanish into the maze of debris-strewn alleys beyond, leaving behind the danger that threatened its existence. Then it only needed to endure until it found an isolated place to recover.
But just as swift hope had arisen, it was crushed in an instant. The werewolf's escape attempt was abruptly cut short as the figures locked in combat suddenly changed their attack target.
Lynn was surprised by the sudden pained howl that pierced through the chaos. His supernatural senses detected movement from where the injured creature lay and quickly deduced what happened inside the dissipating smoke.
As the sound subsided, a temporary ceasefire seized the battlefield. An eerie silence descended upon the fog-shrouded alley as both combatants halted their fierce skirmish.
Through the fading haze, two shadowy silhouettes gradually became visible. They stood several meters apart, the distance between them strewn with rubble and scorch marks - evidence of the intense clash.
The masked swordsman had his left arm bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to his forearm. Crimson dripped from his fingertips, leaving a gruesome trail across the concrete.
Amber also emerged from the dissipating fog, her boots clicking sharply against the ground. She held the mystical revolver firmly in one hand, wisps of acrid smoke still curling from the burning barrel.
On the other hand, the ordinary firearm was nowhere to be found, probably thrown aside during the chaos of the battle. She now clutched a small blade - a sharp dagger with a serrated edge along one side.
This damage was probably from forceful contact with the swordsman's extraordinary blade during a close-quarters struggle amidst the smoke screen.
Upon closer inspection, Lynn noticed the woman was not completely unscathed. Her cloak was torn in various locations, revealing shallow cuts and scrapes adorning her arms and one side of her neck.
She waved her wrist, and the magazine of the extraordinary revolver smoothly slid open. Empty bullet casings cascaded to the ground with a series of metallic clinks, falling from the now-exposed inner chamber.
In a swift motion, she seized the tattered cloak and forcefully tore it apart. its remnants were unceremoniously discarded, as they now served no purpose other than hindering her progress.
This action revealed a bandolier of ammunition strapped diagonally across her torso. The strap hung heavy with rows of large-caliber bullets, gleaming under the dim light. They awaited deployment, ready to unleash their explosive power.
Maintaining her composure, she swiftly reloaded the extraordinary revolver, her movements smooth and practiced. Her slender fingers worked nimbly despite the cuts adorning her skin.
Within the span of barely two seconds, the firearm was fully recharged and rearmed. She gave the cylinder a final spin, ensuring each round was securely in place before snapping it back into firing position.
The weapon was ready to unleash its explosive fury once more. Her sharp gaze remained fixed on the masked man across from her, analyzing his every minute movement for any hint of an incoming attack.
Seeing this, the swordsman winced, gritting his teeth against the pain. The gunshot wound on his forearm continued to ooze blood, drops trickling between his fingers to spatter on the ground.
Luckily for him, the bullet he received was not from this mystical revolver. Otherwise, his hand would be completely gone. The explosive rounds packed devastating power.
"I thought I could defeat you by impairing your vision and using the cover of the smoke to my advantage," he admitted, shaking his head ruefully. "But unfortunately, I did not succeed."
"I must say, you've proven to be quite resilient, but you’re already at your limit," Amber remarked coldly, her voice cutting through the silence. "Surrender now, and you may still live to... "
Before she could complete her words, several loud gunshots and explosions suddenly emanated from the area where Ethan had been stationed to watch over the gang members and the other dead werewolf.
Then, a fiery flare streaked into the night sky, tracing a vibrant arc before blooming overhead. Amber quickly frowned, her eyes narrowing as she realized it was a signal for someone.
Her suspicion solidified as the swordsman abruptly abandoned his prior objective of capturing the mutated monster. He pivoted on his heels and lunged towards a dark alleyway.
She immediately reacted to this escape attempt. The mystical revolver swung around, the barrel following the man’s evading form. Without hesitation, she fired directly at his retreating back.
The masked man in black expected this and twisted his body mid-air, contorting himself into an unnatural position. The bullet whizzed past him, narrowly missing its mark and embedding itself into a crumbling brick wall.
Using the cover and disorientation created by the blast, he threw himself into the dark alley and was submerged in darkness. His footsteps rapidly grew distant, signaling his escape.
Amber clicked her tongue in frustration. "I was deceived. The moment this man understood he couldn't obtain what he wanted, he shifted his focus to delaying me," she muttered grimly.
"His people must be targeting the other monster that was killed," she deduced swiftly. That meant chasing after him now was futile, as her priority had to be ensuring the safety of Ethan.
She quickly turned her attention back to the mangled werewolf sprawled limply across the filthy concrete. The creature's attempt to escape had been thwarted, resulting in even graver wounds.
Without hesitation, she strode over to the hulking beast and delivered a sharp kick to its torso, eliciting a pained yelp. Amber ignored its protest snarls, grabbing the creature by its coarse fur.
"You're coming with me," she stated coldly, before proceeding to drag the massive body across the concrete with astonishing ease. The hulking frame was hauled as if it were light as a feather.
Her lithe yet powerful form moved rapidly, rushing toward the source of the commotion while lugging the struggling werewolf behind her. Dark blood smeared across the ground in their wake.
Concealed in the darkness, a safe distance away from this chaotic scene, Lynn pressed himself against the cold wall, determined to remain still, not making even the slightest of movements that could potentially betray his presence.
At that moment, his mind became a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The direction in which the masked swordsman fled was the very same place where he sought refuge.
