Chapter 195: The Feral Convoy
The violet hum of the pylons grew deafening, vibrating in the marrow of Felicity’s bones. She flinched as Victor’s boots slammed into the cracked pavement of the town square. The impact sent a shockwave through the ivy, stripping the colonial facades bare. Cold, metallic tech glared beneath the greenery—heavy-duty, black-market military gear, hoarded by the old-world syndicates and the Australian underworld, long before everything rotted out eleven months ago.
Victor stood slowly, his hand never leaving Felicity’s waist. He was a pillar of nuclear-white energy, his Level 100 aura grinding against the gravity well like two tectonic plates. "Stay behind me," he rumbled, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. His Selective Annihilation was still on a one-week cooldown after the display on the highway. Even so, his raw physical stats alone were enough to warp the air. Felicity didn’t just hide. She stood tall, her white, flowy dress fluttering against his dark combat gear. Her blue eyes scanned the rooftops with a new, sharp clarity.
"They’re not just in front, Victor," she whispered, her voice steady and observant. "Left alley, third floor. Right bell tower. They’ve been waiting for us." Since her heat, her mind had sharpened; she was done being just a passenger, her head screwed on tight as she analysed the ambush.
From the shadows of the colonial buildings, the "enforcers" of Kangaroo Valley emerged. They called themselves The Feral Convoy. They weren’t soldiers, and they didn’t have the sleek tech of the distant cities. They were scavengers and ex-cons who had tasted blood and liked the flavour. They looked like a fever dream of the old world’s end, scarred fur, leather straps over matted hides, and armour made of rusted street signs and bone. A force of nearly thirty beastmen, all sporting high-level 80 signatures, fanned out with a manic, jagged energy.
At their centre stood the man who had brought the sky down. He was a Level 90 grizzly bear beastman, his massive chest encased in a rusted iron cage, his fur matted with grease and crude war paint. He held a detonator like a holy relic.
"Look at the fresh skin!" one of the Hyena-kin shrieked, his voice a manic, high-pitched warble. He tapped a serrated blade against his chrome-painted teeth. "The Team needs new blood! The Boss is tired of the City of Light snatching every female from the coast. We’re starving, boys, and look what just fell into our laps!"
The grizzly bear beastman, a brute known as Krux, sneered, his gaze drifting back toward the caravan where Alice the Ragdoll was huddling with her prey husbands. None of these men was married. The City of Light had been raiding the valleys for months, taking every woman they could find to build their "perfect" society, leaving the Feral Convoy desperate and unhinged. To them, Felicity and Alice weren’t people; they were the most valuable currency on the planet.
"The blonde in the white is the main prize, but fetch the cat-girl too," Krux growled, his voice like grinding gravel. "She’s scruffy, a bit lean, but hey, in this world, any hole’s a goal, right, boys?"
The Feral Convoy erupted in a chorus of guttural barks and laughter. They were a cult of the road, trading anything from canned fuel to human lives just to stay alive in the mountain passes.
The air in the square didn’t just turn cold; it froze. There was only a furnace of pure, murderous intent. Alice whimpered, her Ragdoll ears pinning back in terror, but Snow Team and Leaf Team were already moving.
Dimitri, standing at Level 95, didn’t wait for a command. His Silence Domain flared with a violent, soundless pop, instantly neutralising the high-frequency hum of the Feral Convoy’s communication gear.
Beside him, the rest of Leaf Team, all Level 90 mercenaries and the absolute best in the business, shifted into a lethal, synchronised formation. They moved with a clinical coldness that made the Convoy look like amateurs. Snow Team, all solid Level 85 veterans, fanned out to cover the flanks, powers fluttering.
Damien stepped forward, his onyx eyes turning into bottomless pits of shadow. His hands glowed with a sickly green light. "Ivan," Damien murmured. "The Rhino is mine. I want to see how much pressure he can take before his nervous system liquefies." Ivan let out a roar that shook the remaining glass from the windows, his golden mane bristling. "Take the big one. I’ll clear the trash."
The fight exploded in a mess of fur and blood. Lucan was a streak of ink, tearing through a Leopard-kin who tried to lunge for the carts. Exile moved in a rhythmic, possessive dance, his tail snapping out like a whip, shattering bone and rusted armor alike. He was silent, but his mind was a storm of violence, reliving his union with Felicity as he tore through anyone who dared look her way.
In the middle of the carnage, as a massive boar-beastman crashed through a pile of rubble, Tommy, the youngest of the rescued teenagers, poked his head out from under a cart. He looked at the dry, scorched earth and at the manic beastmen.
"WHERE ARE THE KANGAROOS?!" he screamed over the sound of a thermal detonator. "IT’S CALLED KANGAROO VALLEY! I HAVEN’T SEEN A SINGLE JUMPING RAT! THIS IS LITERALLY FALSE ADVERTISING!"
Marx, mid-vault over a Hyena, actually choked on a laugh. "Focus, Tommy! The kangaroos are probably smarter than these idiots and left months ago!
The battle intensified. Krux, the grizzly leader, slammed his fist into the ground, triggering the violet pylons to pulse with a blinding intensity. The gravity surge was so sudden that it cracked the asphalt. Victor roared, his knees hitting the ground as he struggled to keep his grip on Felicity.
"Now! Take her!" Krux roared, a wicked, jagged smile splitting his face.
Among the Convoy was a thin, twitchy Jackal-beastman with a unique, high-level Space affinity. While the gravity held the power-hitters down, he flickered through the shadows like a glitch in reality.
Damien, seeing the gravity surge, dove toward Felicity. He reached out, his powerful arms wrapping around her waist to anchor her against the crushing weight. He felt her small frame, the silk of her white dress, and the frantic beat of her heart. For a second, he had her. He had her back in the circle.
And then, the air simply... emptied.
One moment, Damien was holding her, his Level 92 strength locked tight. Next, his arms snapped shut against his own chest.
She was gone.