Mike's pace was slower now. Every step sent a dull ache up his leg, and the sting of the spear wound on his shoulder hadn't eased. He didn't bother wiping the blood away. It had already dried in dark streaks against his skin.
The road wound downhill, the cracked asphalt breaking into stretches of bare dirt. The forest thinned, and beyond the last few straggling pines, he could see smoke on the horizon. Thick. Black.
The smell hit him next, a mix of burning oil, scorched concrete, and something older, heavier. Giants.
He quickened his pace, pushing through the pain. The road opened into the outskirts of a settlement or what was left of it. The buildings were concrete and brick, modern structures, but half of them had collapsed into rubble. A half-destroyed apartment block smoldered, its windows spilling black smoke into the late afternoon sky.
The street was chaos.
Giants moved through the wreckage, each one at least fifteen feet tall, their skin mottled with ash and battle-scars. They swung slabs of rebar like clubs, smashing through barricades. A group of human defenders, armed with rifles and makeshift explosives, were falling back toward the center of the city, firing desperately as they retreated.
Mike stepped into the street just as one of the giants turned toward him, its mouth splitting into a grin far too wide for its face.
It charged.
Mike didn't bother speaking, he met the giant halfway, his claws catching the creature's club in mid-swing. The impact jarred through his arms, but he wrenched the weapon away and slammed his other fist into the giant's jaw. Bone cracked. The giant stumbled, then collapsed as Mike followed through with a knee to its chest.
Before he could breathe, a second giant barreled through the remains of a storefront, dust and glass flying. Mike ducked the first blow, felt the second graze his back, and lashed out with a tail strike that swept the giant off its feet.
The defenders stared for only a moment before shouting at each other in Romanian and moving to cover him. Automatic gunfire rattled in the air, peppering the giants as Mike surged toward the next one.
He fought his way deeper into the settlement, but the streets were crawling with them. For every giant he brought down, another pushed through the smoke. Some carried crude shields made from car doors welded together; others hurled chunks of concrete the size of engine blocks.
A blast ripped through a nearby street, the concussion knocking him sideways into the wall of a corner store. Mike shook it off and looked toward the source, a massive giant with both arms encased in twisted steel gauntlets was smashing its way toward the defenders' last barricade.
Mike roared, the sound tearing through the city, and charged.
The fight didn't stop for hours.
By the time the sun dipped behind the hills, the streets were a maze of rubble and bodies. The remaining defenders held the central square, but the giants hadn't given up and Mike hadn't stopped moving long enough to catch his breath. Every muscle burned, and the dragon in him screamed to keep going, to keep killing until nothing stood.
Somewhere beyond the smoke, another roar sounded deeper, louder, and far worse than any giant he'd faced so far.
The smoke was heavier now, clinging in his lungs with every breath.
Mike's legs threatened to buckle with each step, and the wound from Woden's spear throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat. The ache had spread down his arm and into his chest. Every time he blinked, the whispers swelled, Hecate's voice, Hunter's face, and Woden's fury all tangled together in a grinding chant that made his teeth ache.
The defenders shouted to each other in Romanian, their words sharp and fast, but Mike caught none of them. It didn't matter. He'd fought beside them all day, and they knew he wasn't here to harm them. Still, he could feel their eyes lingering on him between gunfire bursts, just long enough to notice the jagged scales along his arms and the faint, unnatural glow behind his eyes.
Then the ground shook.
Not the erratic tremors of giants smashing walls, something deeper, more deliberate. The air seemed to grow heavier, each inhalation a strain. Out of the haze at the far end of the street came a shape bigger than any he'd fought that day. Its broad shoulders carried slabs of armor scavenged from destroyed buildings, wired together with steel cable. The skin around its neck was a map of old scars. Its eyes burned faintly gold, fixed on Mike with unsettling precision.
The whispers in his mind changed, not calmer but more… eager.
Yes. This one. Take it.
Mike's claws twitched involuntarily. His throat tightened. He wanted to move, to launch himself at it, but his body resisted, the weight of exhaustion holding him like chains.
The giant charged.
Mike tried to meet it head-on, but his speed wasn't there. The club caught him high on the shoulder, ripping him off his feet and into the side of a wall. His vision fractured into white static. The voices screamed, overlapping until they became one long, shrieking note.
Gunfire cracked somewhere to his left, short bursts tearing into the giant's side. Mike blinked through the haze and saw a human figure, but wearing a battered coat lined with metal plates, a rifle slung over their back and a spear crackling faintly in their hands. One of the Chosen.
The Romanian shouted something Mike didn't understand, gesturing sharply toward the giant. No time for words. They rushed in together, the Chosen darting to draw its attention, Mike circling wide, teeth bared.
It became a brutal, desperate rhythm. The giant swung at one of them, the other struck. Mike's claws tore into the back of its calf. The Chosen's spear drove into its ribs, leaving a jagged scorch mark. But each blow cost them, Mike's chest burned, the edges of his vision darkening, his movements growing heavier.
The giant's backhand caught him in the ribs, air exploding from his lungs. He hit the street hard. Somewhere far away, the whispers began laughing.
The Chosen shouted again, voice hoarse, and leapt for the giant's head. The spear punched into its jaw with a crack like splitting stone. Mike forced himself up, every muscle screaming, and slammed into the giant's side with all the force left in him.
It staggered. For the first time, the massive thing looked uncertain.
The Chosen wrenched the spear free, driving it into the giant's neck. Thick steaming blood poured onto the street. The creature bellowed, clutching at the wound, and stumbled backward into the smoke. It turned and fled, vanishing into the ruins with heavy, uneven steps.
Mike stood there, swaying, the adrenaline already draining out of him. The voices still hissed and snarled in the back of his mind, demanding he chase it, finish it, devour it.
But his body refused.
His knees gave out. He hit the ground on his side, the world tilting as the Romanian Chosen crouched beside him, saying something he couldn't follow. The words blurred into static. The edges of his vision collapsed inward.
The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was the faint sound of the whispers, almost satisfied.