Re: Apocalypse Game

The departure of members from the Blood Patriot would be a severe blow to Marcus. These individuals, though not the best fighters, were the vocal cords of their group. They passionately denounced the government's injustices and, more importantly, shared Marcus's vision of an unshackled future. Their defection wouldn't be just a loss of numbers; it threatened to fracture the very spirit of Blood Patriot.

As whispers and uneasy glances were exchanged among the group, Marcus's orders cut through the murmurs like a blade. The metallic clicks of firearms being readied echoed around the farm. The Blood Patriot soldiers, with their weapons pointed ominously, awaited their leader's next command.

Alan, with a tranquility that seemed out of place, broke the silence. "Are you really going to shoot us, Marcus?"

He wagered that Marcus wouldn't resort to violence in such a public spectacle, not when the reputations and beliefs hinged on his next move.

Marcus locked eyes with Sharon, his trusted aide. "Do not hesitate to hurt anyone who stands against us" He then declared to the crowd, "We're taking all the food supplies. I want to see how many of them are still going to stay without your food reserve"

Alan's determination didn't waver. He stepped forward saying "I can't allow you to take our food"

Marcus's eyes narrowed, and his face contorted into a mirthless smile. "And what are you going to do about it? you dare to stop me?!"

In the tense silence, Alan's voice emerged with an unexpected coolness. "I may have said I can't promise everyone's safety, but that doesn't mean I'm lacking in combat skills."

His words were an unmistakable challenge. Marcus's head slowly turned towards Alan, his smirk widening. "You? Aren't you just a schoolteacher? You want to challenge me?" His laughter filled the air, mocking in its mirth.

Allowing his amusement to simmer down, Marcus locked eyes with Alan. "Well, let's see what you've got, teacher. Entertain me."

As Marcus began to unbutton his shirt, the crowd instinctively retreated a few steps, forming a natural arena. Whispers spread like wildfire through Marcus's loyalists. They knew their leader's prowess, and to them, Alan challenging him was nothing short of folly.

Vicky, who believed in Alan's capabilities, felt a pang of unease. She looked for someone with more knowledge, hoping for some reassurance. Spotting Merle, the seasoned veteran, she urgently asked, "What can you tell us about Marcus? how strong is he?"

But Merle, preoccupied with the unfolding situation, didn't acknowledge her. Instead, he approaches Alan's side, his face etched with concern. "Have you lost your mind? Do you even know who you're challenging?"

Alan's voice tinged with apprehension yet resolute, "Yes, I know exactly who he is."

Not only was Marcus a veteran player, but he also had years of fighting experience from his days in the military. He also had proven himself in the Port town training grounds; ranking among the top 20 long-range combatants and even more impressively, within the top 5 in close combat. The man was one of the top echelons of veteran players.

Merle's disbelief grew. "What the fuck! then why are you picking a fight with him? You can't possibly think that you have a shot against him?"

Alan's fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword, its metallic coolness serving as a grounding force. He met Merle's worried eyes with determination. "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" As he prepared his handgun, Alan turned his gaze back to Marcus "I assume you have no objections to me using firearms?"

Marcus laughed a deep, throaty chuckle that was both condescending and confident. "Bring out whatever you wish. It won't make a difference. This duel will conclude sooner than you think."

The source of Marcus' overbearing confidence soon became terrifyingly clear. As everyone watched, a dramatic transformation overtook him. A guttural scream erupted from his mouth, echoing with pain and rage. His physique contorted grotesquely; muscles bulged more prominently, veins snaked visibly beneath his skin. Then, like a shadow creeping over him, dark fur sprouted rapidly across his frame. His fingers elongated into sharp claws, and his face morphed, revealing menacing fangs that gleamed with deadly intent.

[Wolf transformation].

The aftermath was a beastly silhouette that dominated the scene, standing tall at 2 meters. This half-man, half-wolf entity was the stuff of nightmares, exuding a predatory aura. Marcus' transformation was the embodiment of a power given by the bloodline booster, a feature later available in the game.

Whispers spread among the Blood Patriots. Many had heard tales of their leader's unique power, but most havent had the chance to witness it themselves. Especially the fifty players who never followed Marcus to combat. The sight that met their eyes was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Some cheered, invigorated by the display of strength from their leader. Others exchanged anxious glances, silently praying for Alan's safety.

But Alan's face was devoid of any surprise. He had anticipated this, evident in the steely calmness of his demeanor. As soon as Marcus, in his transformed state, lunged at him with boosted speed, Alan's Glock rang out in quick succession.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

[Shooting: Inflicts 18 damage]

[Shooting: Inflicts 19 damage]

[Shooting: Inflicts 17 damage]

But Marcus' enhanced physique wasn't just for show. The bullets seemed to do little against the werewolf's dense musculature. By the time Alan fired his third shot, Marcus was already upon him, slashing with an extended claw.

CLANKK!

Alan, relying on his instincts, quickly raised his sword in a defensive maneuver, managing to deflect the blow. Yet, the sheer force behind the attack sent him stumbling back several steps, his boots skidding against the ground.

Roars of approval erupted from the Blood Patriots, their voices creating a cacophony of encouragement. Their faith in their leader was surging, emboldened by the monstrous power they were witnessing.