Cross and Conflicts

CHAPTER XLIX: Showdown in the Warehouse

With a guttural screech, she lunged at him, the forelegs slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Aeon dove to the side, the tip of one blade catching the edge of his jacket and tearing through the fabric.

The hound-like creature followed suit, charging toward him with inhuman agility.

Bang! Bang!

Aeon rolled to his feet, firing two quick shots. The bullets struck the hound’s shoulder and flank, but the creature barely flinched, the wounds oozing a thick, black ichor.

The woman cackled, her forelegs slicing through a stack of crates as if they were paper. Splinters flew, forcing Aeon to shield his face as he retreated behind a steel pillar.

“Come now, Lieutenant,” she taunted, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. “Don’t disappoint me. I was promised a fight.”

Aeon’s mind raced as he calculated his next move. The woman’s agility and reach gave her an advantage in close quarters, while the hound’s raw strength and resilience made it a relentless threat. He couldn’t rely solely on his gun—he needed to outmaneuver them.

As the hound charged again, Aeon grabbed a nearby fishing net and hurled it over the creature’s head. The net tangled around its limbs, momentarily slowing it down. Taking advantage of the opening, Aeon aimed for the woman, firing at her legs.

She leapt into the air, her forelegs anchoring her to a rusted beam above. From her perch, she slashed at Aeon with one blade, forcing him to backpedal.

“You’re quick,” she admitted, her tone almost impressed. “But not quick enough.”

Aeon smirked despite himself. “You talk too much.”

With a swift motion, he yanked a chain from the floor, its end hooked to a heavy pulley. Swinging it with practiced precision, he lashed it around the woman’s leg, yanking her off the beam. She crashed to the ground with a snarl, her forelegs flailing as she struggled to free herself.

The hound, now freed from the net, lunged at Aeon with a deafening roar. He ducked low, grabbing a jagged metal rod from the debris. As the creature passed over him, he drove the rod upward, impaling it through the chest. The hound let out a guttural wheeze, its body convulsing before collapsing in a heap.

Breathing heavily, Aeon turned back to the woman, who had managed to sever the chain binding her. Her bulging eyes burned with fury as she advanced on him, her movements more erratic but no less dangerous.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, Lieutenant,” she hissed.

Aeon raised his gun, his gaze unwavering. “The only mistake I made was letting you speak.”

With that, he fired.

Bang!

The bullet from Aeon’s gun connected with the woman’s shoulder, the impact sending her reeling back with an enraged snarl. Her predatory forelegs clattered against the floor as she steadied herself, blood seeping from the wound. But there was no pause in her intensity. Her bulging eyes glared daggers at him, her jagged teeth grinding audibly as she prepared for another assault.

Before he could press his advantage, the hound-like creature recovered from its wounds and lunged at him, a blur of muscle and claws. Aeon barely managed to sidestep, the creature’s claws slicing through the air dangerously close to his torso. He stumbled back, his breath hitching as his hand instinctively checked his chest. His vest had taken some hits, but it wasn’t impenetrable.

The woman cackled, her mocking voice ringing through the cavernous space. “You're not bad, Lieutenant,” she sneered, inching closer with the hound circling in tandem. “But not good enough to keep the ring.”

Aeon’s eyes flicked to the direction of his breast pocket under his vest, where the silver ring was. It felt heavier now, as if it carried a weight beyond its physical form. He swore to secure it at all costs, knowing full well that his opponents were after it—and that they wouldn’t stop until they had it.

“Come and get it, then,” he shot back, keeping his voice steady despite the pounding in his chest.

The woman hissed, her forelegs twitching as she lunged forward once more. Aeon ducked just in time, the razor-sharp edges of her transformed limbs scraping against the steel pillar behind him, sending sparks flying. The hound charged from his blind side, jaws snapping, and Aeon twisted his body to avoid the crushing bite.

The combination of their attacks was relentless, forcing him to constantly pivot and dodge. A swipe from the woman’s forelegs grazed his arm, tearing through his sleeve and drawing blood. He gritted his teeth against the pain, his mind racing for a strategy.

He needed an opening, but they weren’t giving him one.

The warehouse was a maze of rusted machinery and discarded equipment, and Aeon’s sharp eyes scanned the clutter for anything he could use. His gaze landed on a thick metal tube half-buried beneath a pile of debris. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Diving into a roll to avoid the hound’s claws, Aeon snatched up the metal tube and swung it upward in one fluid motion. The satisfying clang echoed through the space as the makeshift weapon connected with the hound’s jaw, sending the creature stumbling back with a pained yelp.

The woman wasted no time, her forelegs darting toward him like dual spears. Aeon parried one strike with the metal tube, the impact vibrating through his arms, and sidestepped the second. Using the momentum, he spun and brought the tube down onto her extended foreleg, the sharp c***k of the collision reverberating as she let out a shrill scream.

“Aaaaaaaaaccccckkkk!”

“You’ve got fight,” she snarled, retreating briefly to regroup. Her eyes narrowed as she observed him, now wielding the tube with practiced precision. “But it won’t save you.”

The hound recovered and leapt at Aeon again, jaws wide. This time, Aeon was ready. He sidestepped at the last moment and swung the tube like a bat, catching the creature mid-air. The force sent it crashing into a stack of crates, wood splintering as the hound collapsed in a heap.

Blaaaggg!

Breathing hard, Aeon turned his attention back to the woman. She advanced slowly; her movements more calculated now. Blood trickled from her wounds, but her resolve was unshaken.

“Last chance,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “Give me the ring.”

Aeon wiped the blood from his brow and adjusted his grip on the metal tube. “Come take it.”

Her screech pierced the air as she lunged again, faster than before. Aeon anticipated the strike, ducking low and sweeping the tube across her legs. She stumbled, one of her forelegs embedding itself in the floor as she tried to steady herself. Aeon didn’t hesitate—he swung the tube upward, the blunt end slamming into her side with enough force to lift her off her feet.

She crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath, her forelegs twitching weakly as she tried to rise. Aeon stepped closer, raising the tube for a finishing blow.

But the hound wasn’t done.

With a guttural roar, it lunged from the side, tackling Aeon and pinning him to the ground. Its claws raked across his vest, tearing through fabric and grazing skin. Aeon grunted, struggling beneath its weight as the creature’s foul breath filled his nostrils.

The hound’s jaws snapped dangerously close to his face, and Aeon used every ounce of strength to wedge the metal tube between them, holding the creature back. Its teeth gnashed against the steel, sparks flying as it snarled in frustration.

Gritting his teeth, Aeon twisted his body and managed to drive his knee into the creature’s stomach.

“Aaaacckkk!”

It yelped, loosening its grip just enough for Aeon to shove it off. Rolling to his feet, he grabbed the tube and swung it downward with all his might, striking the hound squarely on the head.

Brrrrrssshhgg!

“Aauuhhh!” The creature let out one final whimper before collapsing, motionless.

Panting heavily, Aeon turned to face the woman. She was crawling backward, one hand clutching her side, her once-predatory gaze now filled with fear.

“You’re... stronger than you look,” she rasped, her voice barely a whisper.

Aeon stepped closer, the tube still in his hand. “Tell me who sent you.”

She laughed weakly, blood staining her teeth. “You’ll find out soon enough, Lieutenant. This is only the beginning.”

Before Aeon could press further, the woman’s body convulsed, her form shimmering unnaturally. What happened next was pure horror. Her head twisted to her back. Her torso followed like a wet shirt with water being squeezed out. With a final, guttural gasp, she was reduced to a corpse that looked like dried plum.

The police officer stared at her once fearsome attacker now dead on the dirty floor of the warehouse. What could have happened? Her death looked like that of Zard’s.

Suddenly, he felt himself freeze. It didn’t have anything to do with what he just witnessed or with the injuries he earned. Something was controlling his body that he couldn’t even lift a finger. He just stood there with his entire body immobile.

Clang!

He dropped the metal tube, and it made an echoing sound inside the warehouse.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“Impressive, lieutenant.”

With calculated footsteps, someone was coming from behind him. It was a woman’s voice.

The footsteps grew louder.

“Well, well, Lieutenant,” said the voice. It was calm, almost soft, but laced with an unsettling undertone of amusement. The figure stepped into Aeon's line of sight, revealing a woman clad in the familiar navy-blue uniform of the Intramuros Police. She was slender, unassuming, with wide, curious eyes and an innocent demeanor. Her dark burgundy hair was neatly tied back, and her police badge gleamed faintly in the dim light.

“Domestica Hemato…” his voice was strained as he recognized her. One thing about Aeon is his impeccable memory. He had only seen her twice.

She had recently been assigned as a meter maid—a minor role in the force, her responsibilities mostly mundane and harmless. Yet here she stood, exuding a quiet confidence that didn’t match her innocent exterior.

Domestica tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, almost apologetic smile. “Oh, Lieutenant Ginto, I didn’t expect you to remember me. I’m flattered.”

“What... are you doing here?” he demanded, though his words came out unevenly as he fought against whatever force restrained him. “You’re a meter maid. This... isn’t your scene.”

She chuckled softly, the sound almost childlike, yet it sent a chill down his spine. “Oh, come now, Lieutenant. Don’t put me in such a little box. Did you really think I’d settle for handing out parking tickets? I’m here because you have something very precious. Something my friends here couldn’t manage to retrieve.”

Her eyes drifted to his breast, where the silver ring was tucked away.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” she continued, taking a step closer. “Do you even know what you’re holding? Or are you just blindly playing the hero?”

Aeon’s jaw tightened, his muscles straining as he attempted to break free. “If you’re after the ring, you’re wasting your time,” he spat. “I’m not handing it over.”

Domestica sighed, as though disappointed. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face, her movements almost casual. “But you see, I can’t let you keep it. So let’s make this easier for both of us.”