"Strength. Senses. Near immunity to conventional damage. Aside from slightly subpar speed, this thing has almost no weaknesses."
Edward's eyes swept over the monster once again, his golden-brown pupils narrowing with concentration. He had been silently analyzing the creature's movements, trying to find any exploitable flaw.
"There's also that strange power surrounding it," he muttered.
He glanced at the rest of the Cullen family, silently gauging their thoughts as well. They were just as troubled. Even the youngest among them had tensed up, postures angled with caution.
"For the first time," Edward whispered under his breath, "I wish there was one of those annoying exorcists here."
This kind of undead—neither fully alive nor a clean spirit—was outside their normal scope. Even the Quileute werewolves, strong as they were, had no idea how to fight something like this.
But an exorcist or priest? Someone with cleansing magic or spiritual attacks?
That might have been the one thing that could work.
Across the clearing, the black alpha wolf snarled, exposing rows of gleaming, serrated teeth. Its hulking frame tensed like a drawn bow, radiating aggression—but also hesitation. Its eyes held fury, but they also showed restraint. This monster wasn't one to rush into without thinking.
It knew the odds were against them.
If not for this being Fox territory, none of them—vampire or wolf—would have chosen to engage something so dangerous. But retreat wasn't an option, and neither was letting this thing roam free.
What should we do…?
BOOM!
The monster didn't wait for anyone to decide.
Its right foot slammed forward into the wet ground, sending a ripple through the soil. The rain-soaked forest vibrated under the weight of its movement.
Unbothered by the combined forces of vampires and werewolves, the hockey mask-wearing monster turned its masked gaze toward the left—toward the thick cluster of trees and undergrowth that bordered the clearing.
It wasn't focused on the Cullen family or the Quileute wolves at all.
Its body language made it clear: something else had its full attention. Something in the trees. Something more dangerous.
The jungle beyond looked calm. Still. The occasional chirp of insects or soft drip of rain onto leaves was the only sound to break the silence.
Not even the enhanced senses of vampires and werewolves could detect anything unusual in that direction.
Edward turned to Carlisle and nodded slightly. "Its senses are sharper than ours."
Carlisle nodded back. "Whatever it's sensing... it's not ordinary."
They all turned their gaze to the treeline, instinctively preparing for something to emerge. Even so, they remained alert, afraid the monster might turn on them at any moment.
Then—
CRACKLE.
The rain continued to fall. Leaves rustled gently in the wind. But beneath the quiet, something was coming.
Footsteps.
Slow. Precise. Echoing unnaturally loud, despite the downpour.
Tchk. Tchk.
Then came the voice—clear, ethereal, and unnervingly calm.
"Necronomicon. Blood Clan. Werewolves... How interesting~~~"
The voice was light. Feminine. It echoed like a spring flowing through an old forest—soothing yet sharp, with a chill that slid down everyone's spine.
The oppressive atmosphere descended like a veil over the clearing.
Even the wolves stopped growling.
Even the rain felt heavier.
A new pressure filled the air—majestic, domineering. It wasn't just powerful. It was the kind of presence that ruled.
The monster, unable to endure the provocation, reacted first.
ROOOAAAAR!
Its fury exploded outward. The masked abomination charged forward like a tank, machete raised in its massive hand, ready to annihilate whatever dared threaten it.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Each footstep cracked through the earth, flinging chunks of mud into the air.
But the others didn't interfere.
The vampires and werewolves silently parted, stepping aside.
They wanted to see who—what—had just stepped into their world.
Then it happened.
BOOOOM!
A force, invisible but devastating, slammed into the monster mid-charge.
It flew backward like a fired cannonball.
It soared through the air, twisting unnaturally before crashing into the wet soil a hundred meters away. Mud exploded upward. The ground cracked. The monster skidded across the forest floor, leaving a deep trench behind.
A hushed awe spread through the clearing.
Edward's eyes widened.
Even he could clearly see the massive dent now caved into the monster's chest. Based on the sheer distance and depth of the impact—
"That's at least several hundred tons of force," he said under his breath.
Then, the footsteps stopped.
From the shadows stepped a tall woman.
She wore a tailored black suit, the fabric crisp and elegant even amidst the storm. Brown oxford shoes glinted with every step. Her face was obscured by a sleek V-shaped mask, the polished metal catching faint reflections from the ambient light.
Her jewel-like eyes glowed from behind the mask.
She radiated beauty.
Mystery.
Power.
The rain didn't touch her. It curved away from her body, as if unwilling to stain her presence.
Even the storm seemed to respect her.
But it wasn't her beauty that stunned them.
It was her aura.
A thick, heavy pressure that bore down on them like gravity itself.
The giant wolves instinctively lowered their heads, howling in low warning.
The Cullens stepped back slightly, eyes narrowing, preparing for anything.
Carlisle, however, stared closely.
"I know that voice…" he said softly. "You're the one who destroyed Sheldon Manor."
The woman didn't deny it.
Instead, her voice rang out again—this time lower, colder.
"Evil. Crime. Wherever death gathers... misfortune follows."
Bella.
Though none of them recognized her, they knew now: this woman had leveled an entire criminal syndicate in a single night.
The Barbarians weren't unknown to the supernatural world. They were vicious, but they hadn't interfered directly with vampire or werewolf business—so they'd been left alone.
Until she arrived.
And the beam of light that had split the heavens during their destruction? This was the source.
No one doubted it.
Not anymore.
Bella's gaze scanned the clearing. Her eyes passed over the Cullen family with quiet appreciation—handsome, graceful, and clearly inhuman.
They really are ridiculously good-looking, she thought. Kind of unfair.
But she wasn't here for them.
Her focus shifted.
Back to the pit.
Back to the monster.
The hockey mask creature had already started to move again.
The caved-in chest? Healed.
The way it stood, machete still in hand?
Smirking.
"Figures," Bella muttered.
She remembered now.
A few weeks ago, there had been reports of a couple killed while camping in the woods.
She'd ignored it at the time—too busy with training, with experimenting, with leveling herself up.
But this creature… it was the one.
"I should've come sooner," she muttered.
Out loud, she stepped forward.
Her tone was ice.
"He's my target."
"Don't get in the way."
The wolves stilled.
The vampires remained quiet.
She didn't wait for a reply.
Bella's eyes burned with focused intensity, fixed on the monster as it stood again, fully regenerated.
The thing may have been unstoppable before.
But it hadn't met her.
And she wasn't here to negotiate.
She was here to erase it.
Not for justice.
Not for glory.
But because it was in her town.
Because Fox had become something of a home.
And she didn't like sharing space with monsters that didn't know their place.
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