Julie covered the short distance in seconds, driven by sheer panic. She found Donna at the front of a group gathered near the sheriff's station entrance.
The leader of Colony House stood with her arms crossed, her expression on high alert as her eyes scanned the street, trying to pinpoint the source of the chaos.
"Where's the sheriff?" Julie asked, the words tumbling over each other.
"He left a while ago. What's going on, Julie? Why was your mother screaming like that?"
"Rick..." Julie swallowed hard, pointing frantically toward the tree line. "He took Ethan. Into the forest. Where's Kenny?!"
Donna's eyes widened. "Shit," she growled, her sharp tone cutting through the frightened murmurs of the people around them. "Kenny can't be far. He headed toward the workshop with your father and Jade."
She didn't waste time processing the absurdity of the situation. Pointing at three burly men nearby, she gave a quick order. "You three, with me. We're helping search for the kid. This way!"
Julie didn't wait to see Donna's group move. She took off running toward the mechanic shop.
Halfway there, she spotted them. Kenny, Jim, and Jade were coming fast in the opposite direction along the cracked asphalt.
"Julie!" Jim closed the distance with long strides. "What happened? We heard screaming."
"They took... they took Ethan," she blurted out, tears finally breaking free and streaming down her cheeks.
Jim's large hands gripped his daughter's arms, his face draining of color. "Who? Who took your brother?!"
"It was Rick," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "He dragged Ethan into the forest... Daniel and Mom went after them."
"Quick, show us the way," Jim said, dread tightening his voice.
Julie nodded and led them, the three men right behind her.
—
The moment Daniel entered the forest, he activated Wi-Fi of Danger.
Instantly, the mental radar lit up in his awareness. A few meters ahead, a small white dot shimmered, stuck to a vibrant red one.
He didn't hesitate. Daniel quickened his pace, weaving through loose branches.
When the ground dipped into a shallow natural depression, Ethan saw him. The boy's face was streaked with tears and dirt. As soon as he recognized him, he screamed.
"Daniel! Help!"
Rick turned, forcing Ethan down to the ground. With his left hand, he gripped the collar of the boy's sweatshirt. With his right, he raised the old revolver.
What the hell...
Before the barrel could fully align, Daniel's instincts screamed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.
He threw himself sideways, diving through the air at the exact moment the gunshot shattered the forest silence.
The bullet tore through the space where he had been a fraction of a second earlier, splintering the bark of a thick oak tree.
Daniel hit the ground hard, rolling across dirt and leaves before sliding behind the massive trunk for cover.
"Why are you doing this, Rick?" he shouted from behind the tree. With a subtle flick of his hand, the Glock materialized from his Inventory straight into his palm.
"They want the boy!" Rick answered, his voice shrill, laced with a hysterical laugh teetering on madness. "But you... you're a thorn."
Daniel risked a quick glance around the side of the tree, calculating the shooting angle. The instant the tip of his nose peeked out, Rick fired again.
The bullet whistled past, burying itself deep into the wood just inches from his face, forcing him to jerk back.
"He's got damn good aim for a lunatic," Daniel muttered, checking the Glock's magazine.
The sound of heavy footsteps crushing dry branches disrupted the standoff. Tabitha burst through the foliage, gasping for air.
"Mom!" Ethan cried, struggling against Rick's grip.
For fuck's sake, you weren't supposed to be here.
When Rick's focus shifted to her, Daniel abandoned cover in an explosive burst, sprinting straight toward Tabitha as the man moved the gun again.
He reached her a split second before the muzzle flash. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he threw his full weight into her, sending both of them crashing to the ground covered in damp leaves.
A sharp, burning pain tore across his left arm. The bullet grazed close to his tattoo, ripping through his jacket and leaving a trail of warm blood running down his skin.
"Son of a bitch," Daniel hissed through his teeth, ignoring the pain. "Why don't we settle this like men? Let the kid go!"
Rick's answer was a fourth shot, kicking up dirt and grass near Daniel's boots.
In one fluid motion, Daniel rolled over his shoulder, planted his knees into the ground, raised the Glock, and pulled the trigger three times.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He deliberately aimed high. Splinters of wood rained down over Rick's head. He couldn't risk a direct shot; Ethan was still being held by the man.
"Stop! You're going to hit my son!" Tabitha screamed hysterically, grabbing the jacket on Daniel's uninjured arm with trembling hands.
"I know what I'm doing. Stay down and quiet!" he snapped back, not taking his gaze off the target.
Daniel counted mentally. The bastard had already fired four times.
Encouraged by Daniel missing, Rick fired again, but the adrenaline wrecked his accuracy.
The fifth shot hit a distant tree. The sixth did the same. When he tried for a seventh, the hollow metallic click of the hammer striking an empty chamber rang out.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He sprang off the ground and burst into a furious dash toward Rick.
Seeing the blond rushing at him, Rick's eyes widened. He tried to yank the boy back by his sweatshirt, using him as a shield.
Ethan's survival instincts kicked in. He opened his mouth and sank his teeth with all his strength into Rick's arm. The man howled in pain, his fingers loosening reflexively.
"Run to your mother!" Daniel ordered.
Ethan obeyed without looking back, sprinting at full speed toward Tabitha, who pulled him into a suffocating embrace.
Daniel stopped exactly five meters away from Rick. The Glock was firmly aimed at the center of the man's heaving chest.
His stare took on a cold gleam as he silently activated Appraisal Gaze.
[Name: Rick Torres / Age: 35]
[Life Level: 1 – Common Human]
[Strength: 13 / Endurance: 12 / Intelligence: 9 / Speed: 11]
[Under the influence of a ritual.]
Daniel frowned slightly. So that ritual must have something to do with his arm being completely healed.
"Tabitha, get out of here with Ethan. I'll handle this."
The woman, her face soaked in tears, glanced between Rick and Daniel's blood-stained arm.
Guilt and terror warred across her expression. "Be careful, please," she whispered, gripping Ethan's hand tightly before stumbling back toward town.
The area fell into a heavy silence. Only the breathing of the two men echoed. Rick stood with his hands raised.
The now useless revolver dangled from his index finger. His eyes darted frantically, searching for an escape route.
"Toss the revolver over here," Daniel ordered, his tone devoid of emotion.
"It was... it was just a joke... I just wanted to scare you," Rick stammered, forcing a weak smile.
"Toss. The damn. Gun."
The revolver dropped onto the leaves and was nudged toward Daniel's boots.
"Now lift your shirt and turn around," he commanded. Rick obeyed slowly. The waistband of his dirty pants was clean, no knives or hidden tricks.
Daniel lowered the Glock. To Rick's complete shock, he didn't fire. Instead, he calmly holstered the weapon at his waist.
"You like messing with kids and shooting at unarmed women," the blond said, cracking the fingers of his right hand. "Let's see if you've got that same courage empty-handed. Just us. If you can take me down, you walk away."
Daniel had two reasons. The first was to test his Boxing Skill combined with Predator Senses.
The second was to give Rick a sliver of hope, only to cut it down with humiliation.
"You serious?" Rick panted.
His mind ran the numbers. The young man looked more muscular now than the last time he'd seen him, but Rick himself was taller. Besides, he had years of bar fights under his belt.
"Come find out." Daniel slid his left foot forward, raising his hands into a flawless boxing guard.
Rick let out a roar and charged. He threw his entire body weight into a right cross, aiming for Daniel's temple.
Daniel's senses pinged, not as a lethal alarm, but as a mild warning. He read the shift in Rick's shoulders before the punch even came.
With a smooth sidestep, moving only on the balls of his feet, he slipped out of the trajectory. Rick's fist cut through empty air.
In return, Daniel's open right hand lashed out.
Smack!
The sharp crack echoed as his palm struck Rick's cheek. The man staggered sideways, his face burning, completely humiliated.
He growled, spitting blood, and tried again. A jab, followed by a hook. Daniel danced around him.
His body moved fluidly, evading strikes by mere inches.
With every miss, punishment followed. Not with punches, but with slaps.
Smack. Left cheek.
Smack. Right cheek.
The man's face began to swell, his breathing turning ragged. It was psychological torture.
"Is that all you've got?" Daniel mocked, then drove a short hook with his knuckles straight into Rick's liver.
The man doubled over, clutching his stomach as a long string of saliva spilled onto the dirt.
And then, the atmosphere shifted.
Suddenly, Rick stopped.
He fell to his knees and let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed through the trees.
Daniel took a step back, the mockery vanishing from his face.
Rick's muscles began to swell and pulse beneath his shirt, tearing the fabric along the seams. His bones cracked loudly, his fingers twisting and snapping.
They realigned in a grotesque way as his nails lengthened and darkened, hardening into thick claws.
When Rick finally lifted his head, yellowed, jagged fangs pierced through his bleeding gums.
"What the hell is this?" Daniel whispered, activating his appraisal again.
[Name: Rick Torres / Age: 40]
[Life Level: 1 – Common Human]
[Strength: 15 / Endurance: 17 / Intelligence: 6 / Speed: 13]
[Undergoing deep transformation. Gaining strength at the cost of draining life force.]
The game was over. Daniel drew the Glock and opened fire. Three shots straight to center mass.
The 9mm impacts shoved Rick backward, but he didn't even grunt. His eyes had no pupils now, filled entirely with a reddish hue.
He charged at Daniel.
Using his agility to retreat, Daniel fired while moving. The bullets pierced flesh and clothing, spraying blood, but Rick seemed numb, advancing like an out-of-control bulldozer.
And worse, Daniel realized the bastard was getting faster and deadlier with every passing second.
According to his senses, if one of those claws landed on him, his injured arm would be the least of his problems.
Time to test the grenade.
Just as he was about to act, he heard the sound of multiple footsteps and heavy breathing echoing from the tree line behind them.
Jim, Jade, Kenny, and Julie appeared, accompanied by three Colony House residents sent by Donna.
Jade came to an abrupt stop, his jaw dropping at the sight of Rick. "What the hell happened to him?!"
The noise drew Rick's attention. Blinded by bloodlust and frustrated at failing to catch Daniel, he let out a low growl that vibrated through his chest.
With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged toward the newly arrived group.
"Run!" Daniel shouted.
Not caring about the crow he knew was watching, he used his full speed, closing the distance in a blur.
In one swift motion, he stored the Glock in his inventory and pulled out the twelve-gauge shotgun.
Catching up to Rick halfway to the fleeing group, Daniel planted his feet and aimed at the middle of his broad back, pulling the trigger.
The impact tore a hole through flesh. Rick grunted for the first time and spun around, claws ready to rip Daniel's head off.
Daniel didn't flinch. He pumped the shotgun.
Clack-clack. Boom! The second shot blasted into the shoulder.
Clack-clack. Boom! The third shot hit the chest.
The three Colony House residents kept running in panic, but Jim, Jade, Kenny, and Julie froze, instinctively turning back.
They watched, horrified and hypnotized by the violence unfolding before them.
Jim, desperate, tried to push Julie back. "Go back to town, Julie!" but she stood frozen, her eyes locked on her boyfriend.
On the ground, Rick's torn body started to convulse in uncontrollable spasms.
Before the stunned witnesses, the sparse black hair left on his head began to turn gray, then within seconds, white as snow.
The abnormal musculature he had just gained shriveled violently. His skin wrinkled, as if his biological clock had advanced sixty years in ten heartbeats.
The grotesque claws softened and fell into the pool of blood. The fangs rotted and tumbled from his gums, leaving behind only dark, hollow gaps.
When his body finally gave one last spasm and went still, the stench of premature decay rose into the air.
What lay sprawled on the ground was no longer the man they knew, nor the monster that had tried to kill them.
It was only the unrecognizable, mutilated, and decrepit corpse of an absurdly old man, dead before he could even speak his final words.
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