Lyerin shook his head, his expression hardening.
The panic that had momentarily gripped his spine was unceremoniously pushed aside by his thoughts. "It's too early for that," he muttered to himself.
In a second, he clenched his jaw, forcing his thoughts into order. The Leading Families might be playing their twisted games, but Lyerin had his own plan. A plan that required cold calculation, not frantic reactions, and it depends on what kind of creature they threw.
His eyes narrowed as they flicked toward the eldritch horses, still leaking dark ichor onto the cracked pavement.
A glint of malevolence sparked in his gaze.
Without hesitation, he crouched, tensing his powerful legs. Then, with a grunt of effort, he hurled the beasts toward the distant border of his tribe's territory. The creatures soared through the air, their mangled bodies disappearing into the foggy night like missiles aimed at an unseen target.
Lyerin grinned.
It was a deliberate move, one that served multiple purposes.
As the horses disappeared from view, a soft, insistent ding resonated in his head—a system screen, no doubt flashing some critical information.
Yet, Lyerin barely acknowledged it, brushing it aside. He had no time for system updates or alerts. There was only one thing that mattered now: the helicopter.
With a predatory malevolent grin, Lyerin's feet pounded against the ground as he sped toward the source of the ominous sound, his eldritch-enhanced limbs propelling him forward with unnatural speed.
The world blurred around him, the ruined cityscape whipping past as he honed in on like a missile to his target.
---
Meanwhile, inside the helicopter, the atmosphere was tense, crackling with barely-contained fear.
The whir of the rotors and the hum of machinery provided a steady background noise as four heavily-armored soldiers busied themselves in the cramped space.
Their faces were obscured by helmets, their bodies weighed down by the bulk of their gear.
Each man gripped a weapon, their fingers twitching nervously against the triggers.
"All right, that's the sixth one!" barked the team leader, his voice crackling through the comms system. His tone was sharp, authoritative, but there was an edge of anxiety to it, a tension that belied the calm he was trying to project. "Three more to go. Get them ready!"
One of the soldiers grunted in response, he didn't waste time and his hands moved quickly to the box in front of him. He fumbled with the latches, even with his gloved fingers trembling slightly. "Are you sure we should be doing this, Captain? These... these things, they're not like the others. Something's nasty to it, but I'm not sure." His voice was strained, a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
"Just follow orders, soldier," snapped the captain, his patience fraying. "We've already dropped six, what's one more? Get it done!"
"But sir, these creatures—"
"Do it, now!"
The captain's voice cut through the rising panic, but it was clear even he was feeling the strain.
The situation was deteriorating faster than any of them had hoped.
Another soldier, his helmet slightly askew, leaned over to the captain. His voice was lower, more uncertain. "Sir, how many have we released so far?"
"I told you, six! Pay attention, dammit!" The captain's eyes darted around the interior of the helicopter, his nerves fraying with each passing second.
The soldier's voice grew even more frantic. "But what about the last one? We should—"
"Shut up and do your job!" The captain's bark of an order was punctuated by the soldier's jerky movements as he hastily prepared the final box.
But then, as if in response to their growing dread, there was a sudden jolt. A loud bang! reverberated through the helicopter, followed by a violent shudder that rattled the soldiers inside.
"What the hell was that?" one of them shouted, his voice rising in panic.
"I don't know!" the captain shouted back, his eyes wide behind his visor. "Check the rear! Something's hit us!"
Another loud bang! followed, this one more violent, more deliberate. The tail of the helicopter swayed dangerously, the entire vehicle shuddering under the impact.
Panic spread like wildfire among the soldiers, their voices overlapping in a chaotic jumble.
"We're hit! We're hit!"
"What the hell is going on?"
"Check the controls! We need to stabilize!"
"It's not responding! It's not—"
And then, a third *kabam!* rocked the helicopter, sending it spinning wildly.
The soldiers grabbed onto whatever they could, and their screams could be heard, full of terror filling the cramped space inside.
One of them, in the midst of the chaos, was struck hard on the head by a loose piece of equipment, the impact knocking him out cold.
"Mayday! Mayday!" the captain screamed into his comms, his voice nearly drowned out by the wailing alarms and the deafening roar of the failing engines. "We're going down! Repeat, we're going—"
But his desperate plea was cut short as a large object—a rock, massive and seemingly out of nowhere—slammed into the side of the helicopter with a sickening crunch.
The force of the impact sent one of the soldiers flying, making his body crash into the side of the vehicle with bone-crunching force. His ribs cracked audibly, the sound lost in the cacophony of destruction.
The helicopter lurched violently, tilting at a dangerous angle. Flames erupted from the engine, licking at the hull as the vehicle spiraled out of control. The soldiers inside were thrown around like ragdolls, their panicked cries mingling with the screeching of metal and the roaring wind.
"No! No! No!" one of them screamed with a fearful hoarse voice.
But there was no stopping it. The helicopter, now a fiery wreck, careened toward the ground. With a final, devastating kaboom!, it exploded in mid-air, a fiery inferno that lit up the night sky.
The soldiers' screams were abruptly cut off, swallowed by the deafening roar of the explosion.
---
Lyerin watched from the shadows, his gaze cold and calculating as the helicopter disintegrated in a blaze of fire and smoke.
In his hand, he held a rock, still warm from the force of his throw.
It was as large as his massive eldritch fist, a weapon in its own right.
As the flames died down, Lyerin's eyes narrowed, his thoughts already moving to the next step. He waited, his muscles coiled and ready, as the burning wreckage plummeted toward the ground.
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He needed to make sure no surveillance, no cameras, nothing could capture his presence here.
The Leading Families might know something was happening in this city, but they would not know it was him. He would not give them that advantage.
And then, in the briefest of moments, Lyerin moved. His body was a blur as he sped through the darkness, the ground beneath him a mere blur. He reached the site of the crash just as the last embers of the explosion were flickering out. T
The wreckage was a twisted mass of metal and fire, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning fuel and flesh.
Lyerin's eldritch-enhanced senses immediately honed in on a figure among the debris—a soldier, unconscious but alive, his body thrown clear of the explosion by some miracle.
Lyerin reached out with one massive hand. His grip was firm, his eldritch hand easily encompassing half of the man's body.
As he lifted the soldier, Lyerin's eyes narrowed, his ears catching the faintest sound—a skittering noise, almost imperceptible amid the crackling flames.
He stilled, focusing his senses. And there it was: a small, black, slimy creature that looked like a sperm with a single eye, about the size of a human fist, wriggling toward the soldier he held.
Lyerin's lip curled in disgust as he recognized the parasite.
The Leading Families were using them again, these vile creatures designed to burrow into their hosts and transform them into something monstrous.
Without hesitation, Lyerin sped forward, grabbing the parasite before it could reach the soldier. He held it for a moment, feeling its slick, cold surface squirm against his palm. Then, with a swift, decisive moment, he shoved the parasite into the soldier's mouth.
In about a few seconds, the man's body jerked violently,.making him arch as the creature forced its way down his throat.
Lyerin watched as the soldier's body convulsed, the transformation beginning almost immediately. The man's skin rippled, dark tendrils spreading beneath the surface as the parasite took hold. Lyerin knew what would happen next.