The instant the invisible ripple washed over the battlefield, time seemed to stutter.
The berserk werewolf's devastating charge slammed to an abrupt halt! Its massive bulk hit an unseen, elastic wall, momentum brutally arrested. In its burning gold eyes, blazing with pure destruction, a flicker of stunned confusion appeared for the first time. Its thickly muscled frame shuddered violently, as if an internal engine had catastrophically misfired. The roar in its throat choked off, replaced by a guttural, pained whine of disorientation.
Simultaneously, on the other side, the vampires reeled!
The crimson light-blade coalescing in the blonde female vampire's hand, poised for a killing strike on a werewolf, flickered wildly like a guttering candle, its form destabilizing, edges fraying into dissipating motes of energy. An expression of stark surprise, alien on her usually icy features, flashed across her face. Her red-glowing eyes snapped wide, instinctively aborting the spell. The blade dissolved into a wisp of bloody mist.
The impossibly fast male vampire, a blur moments before, jerked violently mid-stride, like a film skipping frames! He was forced into visibility, stumbling awkwardly, his face a mask of disbelief. The shadow-melding vampire fared worse – he was physically ejected from a coalescing patch of darkness, landing hard on the concrete with a grunt, as if the rules of space itself had been momentarily scrambled.
An eerie silence descended upon the battleground. Only the berserker's pained, ragged gasps and the distant thrum of the Thames remained. The scents of blood, rust, and that sickly-sweet coppery tang still hung heavy, but the suffocating aura of violence had been violently churned by the sudden, unseen shockwave.
Every being present – the bloodthirsty vampires and the enraged werewolves alike – turned their heads as one. Their gazes, filled with shock and intense scrutiny, snapped towards a single point of origin.
The partially collapsed shipping container where Alan Shaw cowered!
Alan himself was reeling. The torrent of uncontrollable, lava-like energy that had erupted from him, unleashing the ripple, now receded just as violently. It left behind a profound emptiness and bone-deep agony. He felt hollowed out, his muscles shredded, his very skeleton turned to dust. Slumped against the cold metal of the container, he gasped for air, drenched in cold sweat, vision swimming, ears ringing. He couldn't lift a finger. What had happened? What was that power? Utterly bewildered, he was left with only the dazed relief of survival and the crippling aftermath of extreme depletion.
His reprieve lasted less than a second.
The berserk werewolf, though staggered and confused by the ripple, still burned with its primal, destructive fury. The "wrongness," the anomalous energy signature that had just disrupted the entire field, now screamed at its animal senses like a beacon in the dark. It was an instinctive, overwhelming rejection of this unknown threat, surpassing even its hatred for the vampires!
"RROOOOAAAAARRRR!!!" A bellow, even more savage and unhinged than before, erupted from its maw. Confusion vanished, replaced by towering rage and pure killing intent. Its burning gold eyes locked onto the slumped form of Alan with terrifying focus. No reason remained, only the primal urge to tear this unsettling source of disturbance into bloody shreds!
Hind legs bunched, unleashing terrifying power. Arms swung, claws capable of rending steel glinting in the bloody moonlight. Fetid drool mixed with blood sprayed from its jaws. This time, there was no hesitation. Its sole target: crush the human insect hiding behind the metal box, the source of its profound disquiet! It launched itself forward again, a juggernaut of fur, muscle, and utter annihilation! The distance was negligible. Alan could smell its hot, rancid breath!
This is it. No more miracles. Alan closed his eyes in numb despair, waiting for the end. Too weak to even feel fear properly.
As the gleaming claws reached out to shred the container's metal skin, mere inches from Alan's vulnerable body—
A figure, like silver lightning splitting the night sky, plummeted from the skeletal heights of a derelict gantry crane above!
"Back off, beast!"
A woman's voice, cold and commanding, cut through the werewolf's roar!
The figure landed with pinpoint accuracy between the charging werewolf and Alan's hiding place! She hit the ground in a smooth, controlled crouch, knees bent, absorbing the impact without a sound, raising no dust. In the sickly moonlight, Alan could just make her out.
She was tall and lithe, clad in functional, dark grey clothing that hugged her frame, made of some tough, flexible material – neither vampire finery nor werewolf rags. Her hair was a short, practical black crop, a few strands plastered to her forehead by sweat or the night breeze. Most striking was the weapon in her grasp: a metal baton, about half a meter long, matte black. It crackled violently with arcs of brilliant blue-white electricity, casting stark, flickering light that illuminated her sharp jawline, set in determination, and eyes as keen and cold as a hawk's, fixed unflinchingly on the threat. There was no fear, only absolute focus and icy resolve.
Facing the oncoming werewolf, a runaway tank of muscle and fury, she didn't flinch. Her feet were planted, stance solid, body slightly angled. As the massive, stench-laden claw swept down with bone-shearing force, less than half a meter from her head—
She moved!
Blindingly fast! The crackling baton, gripped firmly in both hands, whipped upwards in a precise, lethal arc! Not a block, but a deflection and redirection. The electrified weapon met the descending claw at the perfect angle.
ZZZZZZRAAAPPPPP—!!!!
An ear-splitting crackle of electricity and the sickening thump of high voltage meeting flesh exploded in the night! Blue-white lightning, like a swarm of furious serpents, leapt from the baton to the werewolf's claws and surged through its massive frame!
"ROOOAAARRGGHH—!!!" The berserker unleashed a shriek of pure agony and shock unlike any before! Its rending claws were violently knocked aside. Its entire arm and half its body convulsed in violent spasms! Thick fur smoked and curled from the intense heat. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air. The sheer kinetic force combined with the electrical shock sent it stumbling backwards, each heavy step cracking the concrete beneath its paws. Its burning gold eyes, wide with pain and newfound, instinctive wariness, fixed on the woman and her crackling weapon.
The woman didn't press her advantage. She knew better than to engage a berserker head-on. Her priority was securing the anomaly – Alan.
Without even turning her head, her free hand flashed to a specialized pouch at her hip. She drew out two palm-sized talismans. They were made of a strange, leathery-yellow material, inscribed with intricate, glowing crimson sigils that pulsed with faint power, seeming to hum with ancient purpose.
"Seal!" Her voice rang out, sharp and clear. With a flick of her wrist, the talismans shot forward like guided missiles, streaking towards the two vampires who had recovered from the ripple's disruption and were now lunging – the blonde female and the speedster!
The talismans moved with preternatural speed! The vampires reacted with vampiric swiftness, eyes flaring crimson, attempting to dodge or deflect. But the talismans erupted mid-air in a burst of intense golden light! The light wasn't solid, yet it carried a potent binding force, like invisible chains, instantly coiling around the two vampires!
The blonde vampire found the air around her thickening like jelly. Her attempt to reform her blood-blade faltered, her body momentarily locking up. The speedster felt as if he'd plunged into viscous tar, his prized velocity crippled, movement becoming agonizingly slow! The talismans didn't attack directly but created powerful fields of restraining energy, pinning them temporarily! While their strength meant escape was inevitable, the precious seconds were bought!
"Wardens?!" The blonde vampire finally spotted the small, subtle emblem on the woman's attire – a shield crossed by a sword and an olive branch. Her voice was icy, sharp with disbelief, outrage, and a deep undercurrent of caution. "You dare interfere in Conclave business?!"
The woman, the 'Warden', ignored the vampire's demand entirely. She knew the clock was ticking. With the two most immediate vampiric threats momentarily contained by the talismans, and the berserk werewolf still reeling from the electrical assault and spasming in pain, she whirled around!
Her movement was economical, decisive. Her target: Alan, collapsed behind the container!
Alan's consciousness was fading, vision blurring. He saw only a dark blur rushing towards him, carrying a wave of cool, focused energy. He had no time to react before a strong arm hooked around his waist and hauled him up like a sack of grain!
"Move!" The woman commanded, her tone brooking no argument.
Alan felt weightless, then the world spun violently. He was thrown unceremoniously over her shoulder! The hard bone of her shoulder dug painfully into his ribs, the pain a sharp counterpoint to his fading awareness. He forced his eyes open, seeing only the rapidly moving dark grey fabric of her back, her short black hair bouncing, and the dangerous crackle of the baton still gripped in her hand.
Without a backward glance, the Warden, burdened by Alan's weight, exploded into motion! She moved like an arrow released from a bow, streaking towards the darkest, most convoluted depths of the shipyard – the tangled forest of derelict machinery and mountainous scrap piles! Her speed was astonishing, even carrying a full-grown man. She wove through the skeletal remains of ships, navigated towering stacks of containers, and ducked under rusting pipework with uncanny agility, using the treacherous terrain as cover against any pursuit.
"Stop them!" The blonde vampire's enraged shriek echoed from behind, filled with violated fury. She had torn through the talisman's binding field, crimson energy flaring brighter than ever in her hands!
The berserk werewolf, shaking off the worst of the shock and pain, bellowed with renewed, mindless fury and charged after them! Other werewolves and vampires, disentangling from their own skirmishes, also surged in pursuit!
But the Warden knew the labyrinthine terrain intimately. Carrying Alan, she vanished within a few sharp turns behind the colossal hulk of a gutted freighter, into the towering canyon of stacked containers, and was swallowed by the thick fog and the deep shadows of the industrial graveyard. Only the fading echoes of enraged roars, furious shrieks, and the crackle of dissipating energy lingered under the bloody moon, marking the passage of the impossible confrontation.