All hell broke loose.

Men shouted. Women shrieked. People shot up from their seats as screams shot out from their throats. Starting from the front, a wave of fear and panic swept through the lobby as everybody escaped to the depths of the clubhouse.

“Russ?” Clayton called out, his voice distant. “Russ, what do I do?!”

“Stay back, Clay!” Russell shouted. Everyone headed in the other direction, and he had to fight against the tide of a fleeing crowd.

“But…But Serena…”

Russell cursed under his breath. He took stock of his surroundings before he cut a short path through the horde, hopped atop a low coffee table, and surveyed the clubhouse entrance.

Only a wide-open space remained.

The monster’s dark form lurked by the glass doors. It didn't move any further inside, too busy mauling Donald’s corpse. The area cleared around it as everyone ran away—everyone except for Serena.

“Serena! Don’t!” Russell shouted.

Serena cleared the edge of the crowd and made a headlong dash for Donald—for the monster—when Clayton caught up to her. His friend performed a diving lunge, and the two of them fell on the carpeted floor.

Serena struggled to get back up, but Clayton refused to let go. “Please…someone save him…”

Russell leaped from his perch and shot past the thinning mob. Many stood in place—either in curiosity or confusion—and he shoved them all out of his way as he made a beeline for his friends.

Clayton had gotten Serena back to her feet. He used the sledgehammer in his hands to keep the frantic woman from escaping and running toward her death.

“Someone! Anyone!” Serena whipped her head around, eyeing those who had chosen for whatever reason to remain nearby. “Please…”

Russell soon reached them and grabbed the frantic woman by her shoulders. “Stop it. Stop it!” he said as he tried to snap her out of it. “It’s too late for him, Serena.”

“But he’s…” Serena squeezed her eyes shut. “Donald’s still alive…”

Bullshit. His eyes darted back at the entrance, and Russell blinked in surprise.

[Scaletooth Savage - 4th Shard / Level 1]

The text above the monster had changed.

“Can you see that?” he asked Clayton.

“Y-You mean the wolf-dragon hybrid? O-Or the person it’s eating?”

“I mean—” Russell shook his head. Focus, he reminded himself as he took in the carnage. Donald's form lay on the carpet, still like a corpse. His blood trailed from his torso, drenching the cream carpet, as the monster feasted on his lower body. His head lolled around, his body jerking with every movement of the monster’s jaw—yet his eyes desperately clung to life.

Impossible…

His gaze twitched from side to side, until it landed on Russell, and a spark ignited behind Donald’s eyes.

Help me, Donald mouthed.

Someone grabbed Russell’s hand in a death grip, and he turned his stunned gaze back to Serena. Clayton let her go and she wobbled in place, weak, fragile. Broken. And Russell could see the trauma she had buried resurfacing from the depths of her subconsciousness, seizing her mind, overwhelming the strong woman in front him.

“Please…” Serena whispered, squeezing his hand, her eyes no less desperate than Donald’s. “Not again…”

Russell’s jaw clenched. His other hand tightened around his flashlight. Level 1. Four shards. This Scaeletooth had the same level with the one he had encountered in the parking lot, except this monster had one additional shard. Russell had absorbed a shard himself; a single shard could make all the difference.

It could be faster. Stronger. Or both.

And Big Bertha wasn’t there to help.

Before Russell could think himself out of it, he pushed Serena back into Clayton's arms, unslung his bag, and shoved it into his friend's chest. “Keep her away from trouble, you got me?”

“But—“

Someone else had gotten to Donald first.

Cursing, Russell left his friends behind and charged ahead. The Good Samaritan yanked on the poor guy's arms, struggling to drag Donald away from the monster’s reach.

The beast took exception to its meal being stolen. A threatening growl burst out from its throat, causing the newcomer to collapse on his backside, trembling, frozen in place.

“Get down!” Russell shouted.

The boy scout turned—an old man—and his eyes widened at Russell’s rushing figure a second before he ducked.

Russell gripped the end of his flashlight with both hands, planted his feet on the blood-stained carpet, and knocked the monster’s head out of the park.

Metal hit metal. The air exploded with a resonant clang, drowning the lobby in a ringing sound.

A hiss escaped from his lips as the flashlight slipped from his numb fingers. He had struck with everything he had—newfound strength and all—aiming for a killing blow from the get-go. To hell with animal cruelty.

Yet the monster remained standing.

It staggered back, shaking its large head before it crouched low, growling at the new threat.

All Russell’s attack had managed to achieve was dent the scales on its head, scales acting as an armored visor where its eyes were supposed to be—where the scales were the thickest.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Shit.

“Someone get Donald away from here!” he shouted as he retrieved his flashlight, keeping his eyes on the monstrous figure hunching on the floor.

“I got him,” a gruff voice replied, and something scraped behind Russell in bursts and pauses, growing distant until he could barely hear it.

The monster 'watched' its prey be taken away. The growls turned to snarls as the scales on its hind legs compressed together.

Double Shit.

Russell dodged to the side as the monster blew past him. He whirled in place, raising his flashlight to deliver another blow before the beast could turn around.

Something came for his head.

He swung at it without thinking. Another clang. Another numbing of his fingers. And a whip-like tail bounced from his flashlight. He had managed to swat it away from his face, but the beast had already spun to meet him once again.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“What are you ladies waiting for?” a familiar voice garbled out loud—freakin’ drunken Bradford—and the monster perked its ears, tilting its head in another direction.

Making its first mistake.

Russell shot forward. The monster whipped its head back to him, its maw opening to let out a warning growl—when his flashlight smashed the underside of its jaw.

Its head jerked upward, its front legs clearing the ground. But the blow hadn’t been strong enough. Not without a proper swing.

The monster dropped back, staggering to its side, and Russell saw another chance. He raised his flashlight above his head, holding it with two hands to deliver an even stronger—

Razor-sharp tail lashed toward his torso.

He brought his weapon down in time, but the monster’s counter sent him stumbling back. It had only turned around to whip its tail at him, and he nearly fell for its ploy. Arms shaking, he stared at the large form once again facing him head-on. Three yards. The distance has grown too far for his weapon’s reach.

But not for the monster’s lunge.

Russell dropped, the back of his head slamming on the ground as something blurred over him. A near miss. Cold sweat drenched his back as he rolled to his knees and got one foot under him. But the beast had completed its turn, facing him before he could even retaliate, and he gnashed his teeth in frustration.

What use was superhuman strength when the opponent was too fast for him?

“Let me help!” a voice cried out in the sudden pause. Serena.

“But Russ said…”

The monster rose and sat on its haunches, its hind scales tightening.

“Don’t you let her go, Clay!” Russell shouted before bolting for the monster.

He faked to his left and then jinked to the right. The monster tracked his approach, unmoving. Waiting.

He zigzagged his way closer, making sure not to run straight for his target. The move had worked before. It would work again. And the beast failed to lock on to him until he closed the distance between them.

The monster spun at the last moment.

Russell dropped, rolling on the floor as its tail flashed past in a deadly arc.

Gotcha.

Not bothering to waste time, he swung before he even got back on his feet.

A loud crack filled the lobby followed by the cry of a wounded animal. His grin curled in triumph as the monster limped around, its front paw disfigured—its tail coming for him a second time in a row.

His eyes widened.

Move. Block it. He needed to—

A chair flew past his shoulder, crashing into the monster and sending it reeling back.

“Fuck, that was close,” Clayton said, catching his breath as he stepped up beside Russell.

“What the—“ Russell’s mouth hung open before he returned his attention to the monster. “Didn't I tell you to stay with Serena?!”

“I let Justin take care of it.”

“The hell is Justin gonna do to stop her?”

Clayton coughed. “Gotta be honest with you. I didn’t really think it through.”

“No, shit.”

The monster shook its head and got back up, putting most of its weight on its other leg.

“C-Clayton?” said a female voice, causing Russell to jump and almost making him turn his eyes away from the monster, a mistake that could’ve cost him his life.

Clayton lacked his sense of self-preservation.

“Autumn?!” Clayton asked, looking behind him. “What are you—”

The monster teetered before hunching on its rear legs, the scales coming together.

“Focus, Knox!” Russell barked as he lunged forward, thrusting his flashlight toward the beast’s face, forcing it to stagger away while he retreated.

“Clayton?” Autumn asked again as Russell kept his eyes on the monster. ”W-What’s going on?”

“Damn, girl. What are your eyes for? Can’t you see it isn’t safe here?”

“I…I don’t know anyone else here,” Autumn said, choking. ”I-I don’t know what to do…”

Clayton groaned. “Getting away from here is a good start.”

The monster snarled, crouching, its posture uneven as it kept its injured paw away from the floor.

“Get her out of here, Clay!” Russell said through clenched his teeth.

”It’s fine. It’s fine.” Clayton brandished the sledgehammer in front of him. “I can keep her safe.”

The monster’s ear twitched before it scrambled backward, dodging another chair that crashed on the floor.

“Booyah!” a voice exclaimed as a suit shot past between them. “Party crashers coming through!”

“Caleb?” Russell’s eyes grew wide. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Rook stepped up on his other side, carrying a stool in his hands. “We’re here to help.”

A snort came from behind them. Russell’s shoulder was shoved aside as Tommy’s wide bulk lumbered past him. “Can’t let the runt have all the glory.”

Caleb threatened the monster with another wooden chair as he approached it at an angle. Tommy swaggered from another direction, hammering a bottle of beer on a metal serving tray, taunting the beast.

Russell looked over his shoulder. Autumn stood close by, shaking like a leaf behind the Clayton's shadow. The crowd stayed far in the distance, silent, with no one else volunteering to help. He shook his head in dismay.

“This isn’t football, Thompson,” he shouted over the noise the two were making. “You’re gonna get—”

“Worry about yourself, asshole!” Tommy rolled his shoulders and stretched his wide neck, facing the monster without fear.

“Yeah,” Caleb said, his grin manic. “If you can do it, so could we.”

“Don’t underestimate it,” Clayton called out. “That thing’s stronger than it looks.”

“Shut up, Knox!” Tommy barked. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“That’s not some oversized wildlife you see in the mountains,” Russell warned again before eyeing Rook beside him. “You better get those doofuses in line before they get themselves killed.”

“What makes you think they’re going to listen to me?”

Caleb smashed the chair on the carpet, and the guy let out a giggle seeing the monster jerk. “Why don’t the three of you sit back and relax? Let the real men handle this.”

Tommy and Caleb may have been the stereotypical jocks back in high school, but they were far from being stupid. One would taunt the monster, allowing the other to attack from behind, and they would jump right out before the beast’s tail could cut them in half. The two would then switch roles, keeping the monster guessing. As the old team’s starting center and running back, the pair had always shown great teamwork on the field. One was all about enduring strength; the other was all about explosive speed. The yin to each other’s yang, and vice versa.

Too bad this wasn’t football.

They made quick work of the monster—or so it seemed at the start. They had landed one strike after another, but the beast had bunched itself in place, taking their blows like a boulder tolerating the outpour of a spring shower. And after their storm of attacks had trickled to a stop, all Tommy and Caleb had managed to do was tire themselves out.

“Why…Why won’t this bastard die?” Tommy asked, heaving for breath, the serving tray in his hand dented beyond recognition.

“Our blows ain’t doing nothing, Tommy,” Caleb cried out.

Rook cursed. “What the hell is going on, Flynn?”

“Told you it’s stronger than it looks,” Clayton grumbled.

Caleb wiped the sweat away from his forehead. “Fuck this.” He dropped what was left of the chair he had been using as a weapon and charged straight at the beast, roaring at the top of his lungs—forgetting all about teamwork.

That dumbass, Russell mentally swore as he shot forward.

“Cal!” Tommy shouted. “The hell are you doing?!“

The monster limped around, forgetting all about Tommy, and focused its attention on the racket Caleb was making.

The fool’s eyes bulged in surprise, his battle cry ending with a choke. Caleb braked to a stop, but he had halted his charge too late.

With only one of its front legs injured, the monster’s ability to lunge for its prey was questionable. But with a target so close to it, it could simply tackle its prey to the ground. Which it did.

The monster dropped its prey. Tommy shouted for his friend. Caleb screamed for his life as a maw of jagged teeth snapped wide open.

And Russell plowed into the half-ton monster.