The ground shook again, but this time it wasn’t from wings or stingers.
It was heavier, slower, a pounding rhythm that rolled like thunder through the darkened valley.
Touya narrowed his eyes, watching the dust rise in the distance.
“That sound…”
Tom smirked, arms crossed, his voice carrying over the comms.
“The bulls.”
They were moving now, pounding toward the second sector.
The earth cracked beneath their weight.
Massive beasts, hide black as iron, horns gleaming gold in the moonlight—monsters as big as war elephants, bred to crush armies.
Touya’s brow furrowed.
“You’re sending people against that?
After what we just saw with the bees?”
“Not just people.” Tom shook his head.
“Specialists.”
He tapped his earpiece.
“These aren’t soldiers.
They’re… monsters in their own right.”
Touya gave him a sharp look, but Tom only smiled faintly.
“When everyone else is afraid to even touch the bulls, these are the guys we send in.
No hesitation, no fear.
They don’t even need orders.
They’ll take bulls head-on—and laugh while doing it.”
Touya’s expression hardened.
“Laugh?”
“You’ll see.”
The second team stood at the edge of the field, waiting for the bulls to charge.
There were only five of them, but their presence was overwhelming.
Their eyes gleamed like predators, grins splitting their faces as if this was a festival, not a battlefield.
Their leader stepped forward, Rolf Wagnar hammer slung across his shoulder, the head big enough to crush a car engine.
He was built like a fortress, his grin wide, sharp, and terrifying.
Beside him, a tattooed fighter twirled a pair of axes, laughing like a lunatic.
Another man dragged heavy chains across the dirt, the links clattering like the rattle of a serpent.
A giant with a steel bat embedded with nails cracked his knuckles with anticipation, while the only woman among them, a wiry figure with a war pick, smirked as though she were walking into a game.
They looked like they belonged in a prison riot, not a military op.
“Five freaks,” Touya muttered, watching the feed.
Tom only smirked.
“Five freaks that get the job done.”
The bulls appeared, thundering out of the gates like titans.
Their golden horns gleamed in the moonlight, sharp enough to impale tanks.
Their eyes glowed red, breath steaming like engines.
The second team?
They charged forward, screaming in glee.
The hammer came up first, its wielder roaring, “Finally!
Something worth breaking!”
The axe-wielder howled laughter as he vaulted onto a bull’s back, sparks flying with every strike against its armored hide.
The giant slammed his bat into another’s leg, the crack of impact echoing as the beast staggered.
The woman darted beneath hooves the size of boulders, her pick driving into joints with precision, grin never fading.
Chains snapped outward, wrapping around a bull’s horns, dragging its head down with brute force.
“Got you, bastard!”
The field became madness.
Bulls charged like avalanches, but the five danced among them like devils, laughing, shouting, reveling in every blow.
“This is insane,” Touya muttered, watching the feed.
Tom leaned in, calm as stone.
“Don’t worry.
I told them not to kill.
Their weapons are coated in tranquilizer—they’ll bring the beasts down alive.”
Touya blinked.
“And they listened?”
“They’re crazy, not stupid.”
But even among chaos, one battle stood above the rest.
The bull with three pairs of golden horns emerged from the dust, its body larger, its hide darker, its speed unnatural for its size.
It bellowed, a sound like a mountain splitting in half, and the battlefield froze for a heartbeat.
The hammer-wielder’s grin widened.
“That one’s mine.”
He hefted his weapon, stomping forward.
The bull’s hooves thundered, its golden horns gleaming like blades in the night.
It charged.
He roared back and met it head-on.
The hammer came down like a meteor.
Horns and steel collided with an impact that split the earth, a shockwave rattling the air.
Sparks and dust exploded outward, blinding light flashing in the dark.
The bull reeled back, but it wasn’t stopped.
It lunged again, horns whistling as they slashed through the air.
The hammer swung upward into its jaw, cracking bone, but the beast roared louder, fury only growing.
“You’re fast for a mountain,” the fighter growled, blood running down his forehead.
“Good.”
The bull lunged again, horns tearing into the ground as he twisted aside.
He swung wide, hammer slamming into its ribs.
The crack echoed like thunder, but the beast refused to fall.
He spat blood, laughed, and slammed his forehead against its skull.
The battlefield quaked with every clash.
Horns vs.
hammer.
Flesh vs.
steel.
Man vs.
beast.
His arms shook with every strike, muscles screaming, but he didn’t slow.
The bull’s eyes blazed, golden horns flashing with every charge.
They circled each other like predators locked in death’s embrace.
Finally, he lifted his hammer high, every vein in his body bulging, voice breaking into a roar.
“Sleep, damn you!”
He brought it down with all his weight.
The hammer collided with the bull’s skull, cracking one of the golden horns.
The beast roared, staggering, but he didn’t let up.
Another swing pinned its head to the earth, and the tranquilizer coating burned into its bloodstream.
Slowly, agonizingly, the monster’s roars weakened, until finally its legs buckled.
It collapsed, breath ragged, unconscious but alive.
The fighter stood above it, chest heaving, blood soaking his side.
He raised the hammer again, pointing it at the sky, screaming his triumph.
The others laughed and cheered, their bulls already subdued.
The field was chaos no longer—it was victory.
Tom’s earpiece crackled.
A voice came through, ragged but triumphant.
“Kids secured.
Repeat, children are safe.”
Before relief could settle, the sound of crying echoed through the comms.
Tiny voices trembling.
“Help… these men are scary…”
Touya blinked.
The recruits nearby burst out laughing.
Even Tom’s stone mask cracked into a grin.
Touya couldn’t help himself—he laughed too, shaking his head.
Tom leaned into the comms, his voice calm, warm.
“Good job.
Just leave the rest to us.”
The second team’s laughter echoed into the night, wild and triumphant, as the mission pressed on.