[POV Shift: BSA Captain Mark Liu]
Captain Mark Liu gripped his assault rifle, his knuckles white. The tactical-light mounted beneath the barrel cut a cone of white through the suburban park, illuminating a scene from hell.
"Rhino, flank left! Diaz, cover! Fire on my mark!" Mark bellowed, his voice tight.
His team, A-Team "Alpha", was the best in this sector. He was a [Level 3: Expert (Tendon Connection)], a man whose "Awakened" speed meant he could dodge a moving car. His men, Rhino and Diaz, were solid [Level 2: Adepts], brutes who had both maxed out the "Qi-Strength" punching machine back at the gym. They were the ones who dented steel.
And it meant nothing.
The thing in front of them wasn't an animal. It was a 2,000-pound nightmare of mutated muscle and crimson-glowing eyes, and it was currently shredding a swing set, the metal chains snapping like wet paper.
"Mark!" Diaz yelled, his voice cracking. "Rounds are bouncing! They're bouncing!"
It was true. Their 5.56mm rounds, which were supposed to punch through body armor, were pinging off the monster's striped hide, whining as they ricocheted into the night.
"Forget the rifles!" Mark screamed, dropping his own useless weapon. "We go 'Awakened'! This is why we get the big bucks! Rhino, you're the wall. On my signal, hit its flank. Hard. Diaz, draw its fire, go for the eyes! Move!"
This was the plan. The classic BSA pincer.
Diaz, a brave, stupid kid, let out a "Hooah!" and broke from cover, his body a blur of [Level 2: Adept] speed, firing his sidearm at the beast's face.
The tiger, annoyed, roared.
Rhino, a man the size of a refrigerator, took the opening. He activated his [Level 2: Muscle Weaving], his arms visibly swelling. He sprinted, his feet cracking the pavement, and threw a punch that could shatter a concrete block.
He slammed his fist, a 400-pound hammer, directly into the tiger's exposed flank.
THUD.
The sound was not the wet, bone-breaking impact Mark was expecting. It was the sound of a fist hitting a concrete containment wall.
The tiger didn't even flinch.
Rhino, on the other hand, let out a high-pitched, agonizing shriek. His arm, the one that could "dent steel," had shattered from the elbow down. Bones, white and sharp, punched through his own skin. The tiger's "Blood Vitality" Qi-infused hide was not a defense. It was a counter-attack.
"No..." Mark whispered, his blood running cold. This... this was internal Qi. This was a Level 5. They had been lied to. They weren't an A-Team. They were bait.
The tiger, finally bored, turned.
It didn't charge Diaz. It swatted.
It was a casual, almost lazy, backhand. But its claws, infused with [Level 5: Blood Vitality], were a foot long and harder than diamonds.
Mark, with his [Level 3: Tendon Connection] speed, saw the movement. He could "dodge cars." He saw the swat.
But the tiger was faster.
The world went into slow-motion. He saw the claws pass through the air. He saw them connect with Diaz.
Diaz didn't get "mauled." He didn't get "cut."
He disintegrated.
His upper torso, his tactical vest, his rifle, everything, was annihilated in a fine, red mist.
It wasn't a fight. It was a mauling.
Rhino was on the ground, screaming, clutching the bloody stump of his arm. Mark was alone.
He did the only thing he could. He ran. He back pedal, his "car-dodging" speed a pathetic, clumsy scramble. He clawed at the comms unit on his shoulder, his voice a raw, broken, terrified plea.
"This is Alpha! Diaz is KIA! Rhino is down! We can't stop it! It's too strong! It's internal! It's a Level 5! I repeat, we cannot stop it! Where are the 'Experts'!? Where are the God-damned Grandmasters!?"
The tiger watched him, its crimson eyes filled with a cold, aristocratic, bored intelligence. It wasn't even chasing him.
It opened its mouth.
And it roared.
It was not a sound. It was a weapon.
A "Blood Vitality" sound wave, a physical, invisible cone of pure Qi, slammed into Mark.
KRR-SHHHRRRAACK!
The comms unit on his shoulder didn't just stop working; it exploded, sending shrapnel into his neck. The world went silent. A hot, wet pressure built inside his chest, and he coughed, a thick spray of blood splattering onto his chest-plate. The sound wave had ruptured his lungs, his mortal, un-fortified organs.
He fell to his knees, his speed, his strength, his [Level 3: Expert] status... all of it a pathetic joke.
He looked up, his vision blurring.
The 2,000-pound monster, its duty done, finally began to walk toward him, its paws thudding on the grass.
It was no longer in a hurry.
It pounced.
Mark Liu, Captain of A-Team Alpha, had just enough time to see a black and orange striped sky blot out the moon.