In the evening, in a remote jungle in Alaska, USA —
Three men dressed in combat uniforms were leaning against a large tree, gasping heavily. A large amount of hot, fresh blood was slowly flowing from the numerous gruesome wounds on their bodies, and the originally grass-green combat uniforms had been stained dark red. However, they seemed indifferent to this, continuing to inspect the guns in their hands, with no expression visible on their faces.
"How many bullets do you have left?"
Among the three people, a middle-aged man with Asian features suddenly spoke up as he removed the magazine from his handgun and casually tossed aside the empty magazine. He took out the only bullet left in the chamber and held it up in his hand.
"It's gone!" replied a young man with black hair. After answering in a dull tone, he disappointingly tossed aside the American-made military rifle in his hand and drew a hunting knife from his waist, asking a burly blond man beside him, "Dexter, what about you?"
The blond giant vented his frustration by smashing the same model of gun he held against a nearby large tree. The force was so great that the M4A1 shattered into a pile of parts. He then spat and angrily cursed, "Damn it, what a piece of junk gun that can only hold thirty bullets. I said before I wanted to bring my big one along, but you guys said this was a small CASS. Now look where we are, just waiting to be slaughtered..."
"I also have a palm thunder used by my wife, and with Marcus's bullet, we each have just enough to commit suicide!" After a long pause, the blond giant pulled out a small silver handgun from his black military boots. However, it looked more exquisite than practical. The giant fiddled with the small gun and muttered with resentment, "Even if we commit suicide, those living corpses definitely won't let us off, right? They never are picky eaters, but I really don't want to turn into their poop after I die. That's just too damn disgusting…"
The blond giant muttered curses under his breath, but the other two ignored his self-deprecation, as he had already drawn the dagger from his waist. To everyone's surprise, his left hand reached behind his back and pulled out a dark grenade, which he bit to remove the safety pin. He glared fiercely at the dark jungle ahead, making it clear that his talk of suicide was just that—talk.
"Aww…"
Suddenly, a cry similar to that of Dexter's dog came from directly ahead, not far from the three of them. Upon hearing it, all three felt a tightening in their hearts, forcing themselves to stand up against the large tree despite their injuries, entering a state of full alert.
"Are those 'skinners' from the blood clan all dogs? How could they catch up so quickly? Jack, it seems your little pup is in serious trouble!" The blond man weighed the dagger in his hand, his eyes fixed intently on the dark woods ahead without blinking.
"I know, no need to remind me!" The young man called Jack frowned, his eyes also glued to the front. Although his words were cold, there was a hint of worry in his gaze.
"I never expected that our group of 'corpse collectors' would fall to a few little bloodsuckers. If this gets out, we'll be the laughingstock! Sigh, what a fucking embarrassment!" The middle-aged man sighed and shook his head, his face filled with helplessness.
"Heroes die in the rivers and lakes, isn't that what you always say? We've killed so many of their brothers and sisters; one day, we'll pay with our lives. It's just that today, it seems no one will collect our bodies!" Dexter let out a big sigh. It was clear he knew his chances of surviving today were slim, but he didn't relax his grip on the knife in his hand. Too many life-and-death situations had taught them never to give in until the last moment.
"Who says no one will collect us? Aren't we here…"
Before Dexter could finish his sentence, five people emerged from the dark forest. Through the sparse moonlight, it was vaguely visible that these five wore the same clothes as them—identical combat uniforms, the same military boots, and no insignia on their clothing. However, the smiles on their faces looked extremely eerie, sending chills down one's spine.
The speaker was a tall, slender man with brown hair, clearly the leader among the five. His face was filled with a mocking smile, and his gaze towards them was full of ridicule, as if five wicked cats were toying with three poor little mice.
"What the hell are you laughing at, bloodsucker? Am I definitely going to die? Who knows who will be lying down today!" Dexter fiercely waved the shiny dagger in his hand, his face full of defiance and provocation.
"Oh, you humans are really hypocritical. Even when death is at your doorstep, you still refuse to admit it. That little bit of courage you have left might only be enough to let you curse at me a few times! Oh, by the way, this poor little hellhound is yours, right?"
The tall and thin man spoke with a somewhat effeminate tone. He waved his hand behind him, and a wild-looking European woman emerged, dragging a bright red hunting dog. The dog was as large as a calf but appeared to be on the verge of death, with a gaping blood hole the size of a bowl in its neck, hot blood flowing down freely.
The woman tossed the all-red hunting dog to the ground like a dead animal and pretended to ask, "Oh dear, I might have been a bit too rough just now and accidentally knocked off one of its heads. Now there's only one left. But how strange, aren't hellhounds supposed to have three heads? Why does this one only have two? My lord, what do you think is going on?"
The wild woman turned back and threw a sultry glance at the tall and thin man, seductively walking up to him and clinging to his body. With her left hand, still adorned with a diamond ring, she brushed against the man's chest and skillfully slid into his pants. Her fingers teased him expertly, each touch eliciting satisfied sighs from the bloodsucker. In this apocalypse, a woman's body was the only hard currency, and she was working hard to rub him up and down.
"Of course, a hellhound with two heads is useless; it's a breed destined to be abandoned, just like the three over there, haha!" The tall and thin man laughed heartily, tearing open the woman's outer garment and bra, revealing a pair of slightly sagging breasts, twisting the two dark "grapes" on top with great force.
"Roar~ How dare you touch my girl, go to hell!" Dexter suddenly let out a loud roar, seemingly provoked by something. His muscles began to swell rapidly, reaching an incredible size. Thick black fur started to grow all over Dexter's body, his jaw jutted forward, and long fangs emerged. Finally, with a crisp sound, Dexter's battle suit could no longer withstand the expansion and ripped apart, revealing the fierce humanoid giant Dexter before everyone.
"Die! Bastard…"
Just transformed, each muscle expansion was accompanied by an indescribable pleasure. The beast within him roared, craving not only to tear apart enemies but also to possess. The completed Dexter let out a hoarse roar of anger, raised his hand, and shot the dagger in his hand, aiming straight for the opponent's throat. At the same time, he pushed off the ground with force, lifting a patch of grass high, and shot towards the still-laughing tall and thin man like an arrow.
"Don't go over there! That woman is no longer Lisa; she's deliberately provoking you!" The middle-aged man hurriedly reached out to pull Dexter back, but his strength was no match for Dexter's. Not only did he fail to hold him back, but he almost stumbled, helplessly watching Dexter charge madly towards the other man.
"Seeking death!" The laughing tall and thin man suddenly stopped laughing, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. He tilted his head to dodge the dagger shot by Dexter, which with a "thud" deeply embedded itself into a large tree behind him, going straight in up to the handle. Meanwhile, the claw, charged with Dexter's full power, was less than half a meter away from him, but the tall and thin man's eyes suddenly widened. A nearly invisible black ripple shot from his eyes towards Dexter, who was still in mid-air.
As soon as Dexter came into contact with this ripple, his movements immediately slowed down. He felt as if he had fallen into a deep swamp, not only moving ten times slower but also finding it difficult to breathe. His speed, which had been far beyond that of ordinary people, now felt like a turtle crawling.
A tall, thin man had a grip on Dexter's neck, almost suspending him in mid-air. Despite his seemingly weak hands, he was choking Dexter to the point of near asphyxiation, even causing the thick vertebrae in Dexter's neck to emit a distressing cracking sound.
"Idiot~ You can't beat me, and your brain is so dull. Isn't it only natural for me to play with your girl? I really don't know how a piece of shit like you got into 'The Undertaker'!" The tall, thin man laughed arrogantly while choking Dexter, and to match his demeanor, the wild woman pressed her ample bosom tightly against his arm, rubbing against it while deliberately showing a look of intense enjoyment in her eyes as she gazed at Dexter.
"Ah…" Dexter, who could barely move, let out a thunderous roar, his eyes turning bloodshot. Surprisingly, his Dexter claws began to slowly reach towards the tall man's head, albeit slowly, yet with determination.
The tall, thin man watched this situation leisurely, seemingly unhurried, with a hint of amusement on his face. "Are you about to go crazy? No wonder you were once the golden warrior among men, Dexter. Even bound by my 'psychic field,' you can still move. Well, I might as well send you straight to hell! Oh, by the way, after you die, I will definitely leave your incomplete corpse for those living corpses, letting you slowly turn into a pile of excrement within their rotting bodies. Hahaha…"