Holy shit that Varintol hit hard. Samuel had been in plenty of bar brawls in his life and had been punched in the face at least twice as many. Either way, that sucker punch was unbelievable. It was like being slapped across the face with a sledgehammer. While the Varintol generally had a more plush fatty build, that did not indicate their strength. That heavy figure just concealed dense layers of muscle that hit way above their weight class.

　　 That woman, whatever her name was, was a few centimeters shorter than Samuel but had knocked him out cold in one shot. What the fuck was that for anyway? All he did was walk up and was going to try and figure out what was happening. It wasn`t like he was going to attack her or something. Well, that was the initial thought; he certainly was more than willing to clobber her back after that cheap shot—woman or not.

　　 Samuel pressed out of the snow and wiped the powder clinging to his face and beard, readying to take stock of the unraveling situation. However, what he saw was not something he was fully prepared for.

　　Samuel had expected and was prepared for Scarletra and those six soldiers to be fighting. He could already feel and hear her roaring loudly and the sounds of them shouting in their harsh guttural language when he first regained consciousness after all.

　　 But as he traced the field now turned into a kill zone, he suppressed the urge to vomit. The once bright white snow was a deep crimson, and blood gushed out Scarletra and the other Varintol. They had already moved to surround her, but that did little other than keep them within arms reach.

　　 One of the original six had already had an arm ripped off and was writhing in the snow, clutching the stump, blood oozing out between their fingers. They were not long for the world; even a medical dolt like Samuel could tell there was no coming back from that without immediate aid, and none of the others could take their eyes off Scarletra lest they meet the same end.

　　 Calling what was going on a fight did not encapsulate the event properly. Scarletra was outnumbered and wounded, and was controlling their pace. One would lash out, and she would swat away their weapon with bare hands, then retaliate with a hit, using claws, teeth, or a sword she must have removed from the hand of the dying Varintol.

　　Her attacks left her back open for those short moments, letting another jab at or cut her. Scarletra`s back was already cut open and was pouring blood out, soaking her fur and the snow around her.

　　 One thing that surprised Samuel was that the orange-furred Varintol was still standing, ax in hand, and was barking orders to her warriors, trying to keep them in some semblance of good order and discipline, without a doubt, that was a challenging task when facing someone like Scarletra who was beating them out in sheer violence of action. She would occasionally peer over her shoulder back toward the woods. She was waiting for something, likely the rest of her squad lurking nearby.

　　 Samuel popped into a kneeling position, resting his elbow on top of his knee; he took aim at one of the Varintol, which would not put Scarletra directly in his line of fire. Under normal circumstances, he would say this shot was dangerous and should not be done, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And he would be damned if he sat here and watched Scarletra slowly be stabbed and flayed to death.

　　 Peering down the scope, Samuel settled the crosshairs on the Varintol with brown fur. He snaked a gloved finger into the trigger guard while flicking off the safety. Samuel paused to look at the woman`s face after Scarletra clawed across it. The abject look of fear in her eyes was palpable. She was undoubtedly as horrified as Samuel was.

　　 For the time being, Samuel knew he could not think like that. He needed to help Scarletra. Even if this was dangerous, he would aid her in whatever way an old man could. In this case, that just happened to be 12.7mm caseless ammunition.

　　He pushed the thoughts of how he was about to snuff the life out of another sentient being from his mind, electing to think of them as little more than animals. As fucked up as the idea sounded.

　　 Samuel let out a breath completely, the steam wafting away. Samuel was not the most incredible shot in the world unless he was prone and had plenty of time to walk shots in. But being no more than fifty meters away from his target, he could not miss.

　　 The trigger`s break surprised him, which was good; that`s exactly how his father and grandfather had taught him to shoot. The WSR-1 gently pressed into his shoulder and declared his defiance to the Varintol. The hypersonic crack and the unsuppressed report of the rifle drowned out the world, echoing off every surface of the valley.

　　 His target lurched when the bullet tore straight through her armor and skidded off into the snow. She looked down in confusion at the massive hole in her chest and the remnants of her heart and lungs that splattered across the powder and the orange-furred Varintol.

　　She did not even get a chance to look back at Samuel before Scarletra noticed the pause in attacks from that side and bit down onto the dying woman`s head, crushing it between her jaws. If that Varintol was not dead where she stood from the bullet, she certainly was now.

　　Shifting his attention to the others, Samuel was horrified to see the commander and another Varintol had left Scarletra and were rushing toward him. In a panic, Samuel ripped two quick shots into the closer one`s chest, both landing just above her diaphragm. She did not even clear two more steps before collapsing and tripping the commander.

　　Based on how suddenly the Varintol fell, he must have severed her spine with at least one of the bullets. She likely was still alive and bleeding out, but her lower body would be paralyzed. But that was not his concern at the moment.

　　After recovering, the commander sped up and started to sprint at him, roaring with hate and venom in her breath. Someone had to teach the Varintol the ways of modern warfare and that rushing a man with a rifle that was already off-safe and pointed at you was a bad idea. While he could not do the former with only the WSR-1 and the concern to end this fight to protect Scarletra, he could easily do the latter.

　　Gesturing the rifle at her, Samuel drilled out the rest of his ten-round magazine, peppering the Commander with 400-grain slugs. Blood erupted out of her back as each of the seven rounds passed through her armor and torso like they weren`t even there. Despite the 12.7mm round having significant force behind each hit, it barely phased the enraged woman. She just kept running and screaming despite the waterfall of blood trailing behind her and out of her mouth.

　　"Fuck, why won`t you die," Samuel yelled, turning around and running, trying to gain some distance from the psychotic woman.

　　She was gaining on Samuel with every step; his chest heaved and lungs burned, struggling to quickly retreat from the furious woman. Samuel made it to some boxes he could use as cover. Looking back, the woman had slowed. She was definitely bleeding out but was still slowly jogging toward him. At least now he had time to reload.

　　Samuel dropped his empty magazine in the snow and sent another home before sending the bolt forward. Aiming the weapon back at the woman, Samuel could see the recognition and pained acceptance in her eyes. She knew it was over, but she kept trying to reach him.

　　It was something he could respect in a way. Having the drive to not give up even when facing overwhelming odds was a trait few had. Either way, his respect did not matter for now. Samuel ran a Mozambique drill on the feebly charging woman. The first two into her chest did little other than make her stumble, but the bullet that made her head explode in blood and viscera put her down permanently.

　　She collapsed into the snow without a whimper, not that he cared right now. The unfettered screams from around the corner were more concerning. Samuel moved back closer to Scarletra and the ongoing melee. Scarletra had moved out into the fields just passed the gates, likely having gotten sight of whoever the commander was waiting for. Finding the battle was made easy by the sheer volume of clattering swords, axes, and unbridled screams of pain and fury.

　　Tracking the fight was also made simple by the spor they had left. Well, spor is not correct; massacred bodies left strew about was more accurate. Some were missing legs, arms, and heads. One thing that unified them all was their chests and limbs, which were covered in scratches that oozed steaming crimson onto the ground. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

　　Scarletra must have slaughtered seven of them on top of the initial squad. That was just a rough estimate, as counting them would take time, and their mangle cadavers were everywhere. They likely would be finding bits of these Varintol for weeks.

　　Samuel followed the rivers of red ichor. With each fresh puddle he plodded through, worry choked at him. How much of this blood was Scarletra`s?

　　Reaching the gate, Samuel struggled to hold down his breakfast. Scarletra had told him she went into a berserker trance when fighting began, but this was unreal. Scarletra had one of the younger-looking Varintol by the upper and lower jaw, holding her up off the ground. The young woman flailed and kicked at her desperately while the others drove spears in and out of her side, ripping her shredded jumpsuit even further.

　　Scarletra screamed so loudly Samuel struggled to breathe under the pressure. Pulling more and more, the woman`s frantic kicking grew in fervor. Her cheeks ripped open, followed by the horrendous snap of her jawbone. The woman`s eyes rolled into the back of her head, falling limp from shock. But Scarletra did not stop. No, she was just getting started.

　　Ripping the woman`s lower mandible off, the woman`s tongue lolled out of the gaping bloody hole. Scarletra tossed the limp body at another attacker before turning and jamming the bone into the eye socket of her next helpless victim. Blood and clear fluid poured out and soaked the woman`s leather armor while she screamed in pain for only a moment, that moment only existing because Scaretra had yet to force the bone back and into her brain. But once it reached there, she spasmed violently, collapsing into the powder while whimpering words in death.

　　Scarletra turned to another fighter, teeth bared, and lunged at them, continuing her mad assault against the enemy.

　　 Samuel spotted movement on the treeline; another group of Varintol were rushing out into the field, all too eager to join in the fight. Samuel propped his rifle against the gate and aimed in. He had to trust Scarletra to handle the others in melee. Lord knows she had already killed thrice that, and with the gut-wrenching display he just witnessed, he had no real doubt she could handle it.

　　He tracked the first target, a golden-furred Varintol, pulling back her arm and getting ready to toss a javelin into the fight. Did she not worry about hitting her comrades? Either way, her arm could never arch and launch that two-meter weapon when she stopped. Because Samuel had jerked the trigger, the bullet smashed into her shoulder and ripped the arm clean off, blood flowing as she looked dumbfounded by the wound.

　　Samuel was surprised by how the Varintol were reacting to gunfire. He had expected some pause, reservation, or fear, but there was none. They fought valiantly and treated his tool as another part of the cacophony of war. It was a bit of a shame. He hoped that shooting one would have scared the others off.

　　Either way, that was neither here nor there for the moment. Settling his crosshair back on the armless woman, he squeezed the trigger. The slug hit her just above her bright blue eyes, the cap of her head exploding, and she collapsed dead in an instant.

　　Samuel hammered two others with fire, having difficulty tracking them while in full-bore sprints, but after a few quick shots, they were hit, wounded, and bleeding, stopping them so he could efficiently dispatch them.

　　It was strange doing this. Samuel had expected more of an impact, a feeling inside him from killing other sentient creatures. But there was no shame or guilt. No, if anything, he was proud of the efficiency, solely because each body on the deck meant another threat to Scareltra was gone for good.

　　The last two Varintol had almost reached Scareltra`s ongoing brawl. Samuel tracked the slow one, having made it from two hundred meters to now a measly seventy from him. An easy shot if the bitch would just hold still, but her chosen weapons were twin hand axes, so she had no plans on stopping.

　　Snap, the bullet left the rifle with a roar, finding its mark just below the woman`s neck, going in one shoulder and out the other, tearing every bone, muscle, and vein in its path. She sputtered and grasped at her bleeding neck, having been cut open by flying bone fragments. Falling to her knees and dropping her axes, Samuel knew she was not an active threat anymore and moved the rifle to the last woman. But Scarletra beat him to the punch.

　　His optics settled on Scareltra, grabbing both of the woman`s arms and agonizingly slowly increasing the pressure. The Varintol screamed, wailed, and desperately attempted to escape Scarletra. But claws digging into her biceps made each thrashing attempt an abysmal failure.

　　Samuel had half a mind to shoot the woman`s head off, to at least end her suffering, but Scareltra was too close. All he could do was wait. He averted his eyes, but that made it no better. The popping and slowly increasing sounds of ripping flesh drove his mind to conjure up the scene in his head. Samuel threw up into the snow, his body wrenching.

　　 This was madness, utter insanity. He was an engineer and had a peaceful life, but in an instant, he willingly shot multiple people and was kneeling in brain and blood just to protect Scarletra, who tore through her former tribesmates like a machine. Samuel tried to justify it all and logic out of it. But he knew he made the right call, even if hearing Scarletras fight made him ill.

　　The screaming ended after another deafeningly loud crunch echoed out. Samuel nearly threw up again when he could swear he heard lips smacking and chewing for a moment. A spat sounded out, followed by some grunts and groans. Silence fell over the area. Only the frantic thumping of his heart could be heart.

　　Standing around cover, Samuel hoped Scarletra would have regained control of her faculties and calmed down. But no, somehow, even in all the chaos of the battle, she had somehow kept track of him. She stood in the open, holding the body of the last enemy in hand. Her jumpsuit was nearly falling off, its tatters whipping in the wind, giving Samuel a view of the extensive injuries across her body.

　　Her golden eyes glared at him from below a now halfway missing ear. Not a single aspect of the woman he loved was in those eyes. No, that was Hurot through and through. Samuel would have gladly tended to her wounds and told her it would be alright if she did not immediately roar and charge toward him.

　　"Oh fuck," Samuel shouted, and he turned and tried to sprint to the door.

　　His heart drummed quickly in his chest, shooting to speeds he did not know possible on hearing that roar directed at him. Each rushing footstep was difficult, snow trying to keep him still as Scarletra neared, ready to rip him to shreds.

　　He peaked back and she was gaining steadily on him, having already crossed the gate`s threshold and covered fifty meters, whereas he had only made it a solid fifteen. Looking back to the door, Samuel put every ounce of effort into moving. He had to make it, not just for his life`s sake but for Scarletra`s; if she did kill him in a rage, she would never forgive herself for it. Even if running seemed cowardly, it was all he could do to protect her now that the battle was over.

　　Samuel reached the door and slammed the button to actuate the door. It slowly began to open, the hydraulics slowed by the cold.

　　"Not the time, you piece of fucking shit!" Samuel yelled, kicking the door.

　　He glanced back and saw death only meters away. Scarletra, soaked in blood, was tossing snow up in her wake, every fiber of her being dedicated to vivisecting him with her claws. Samuel`s heart dropped. He didn`t want any of this for her. She deserved peace, happiness, and joy. But those fucking Varintol just had to show up and ruin it all.

　　If he made it out of this, he would find some way to get Scarletra out of this valley and further away from her old family. Maybe they could be reassigned to the moon`s far side or placed near the tribe to the south. Anywhere, the Ursana had no chance of locating her and driving her to this horrible curse.

　　Samuel desperately tried to squeeze into the creaking open sliding door. Just as his gut was about to pop through and he would enter the sanctuary, Scarletra reached him. Her massive hand grabbed his arm, squeezing it with such force that he felt his bones bow. She dragged him out of the door frame and slammed him against the wall, holding him up by one arm.

　　"Scarletra, it`s me. Stop," Samuel pleaded.

　　But she did not listen. She growled words in Varintol and dragged a claw across his face, sadistically chuckling while carving his cheek wide open. Samuel screamed, blood pooling in his mouth. That only egged her on further.

　　She chuckled and grumbled a few words, smelling him, soaking in his fear`s sweet, delectable taste. Relishing in his squirming like a cat playing with their latest kill.

　　"Scar, please don`t," Samuel begged.

　　Her bloody mouth opened wide, the scent of blood and other viscera filling his lungs. She brought her jaws over Samuel`s head, readying to end him. She licked across his face, taking his blood, sweat, and tears in, savoring it like ichor.

　　In what likely was a moment of madness, Samuel stopped screaming and stopped struggling against her. He knew he was dead. He had given up. While Scarletra had called him delectable and a treat once or twice, he never thought it would be literal. So he laughed. In a moment of abject horror, his mind chose to laugh of all things it could have done.

　　Scarletra, upon hearing that, paused and stopped closing her jaws to crush his skull. She gasped and pulled her head back, looking at him, desperately soaking in Samuel`s state. At least her eyes were back to their usual gentle gaze.

　　Scarletra was back in control.

　　She frantically looked around at their surroundings, herself and Samuel clearly still piecing together everything. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something but closed it instantly.

　　"Hey Scar, you alright," Samuel awkwardly asked, trying to get something out of her.

　　But the answer he got back broke his heart—silence.

　　Scarletra`s body quivered, and she let go of his arm, letting him fall into the snow, before turning and darting off out of the outpost just as quickly as she had pursued him moments ago. Samuel could not understand any of the words coming from her, but he recognized the tears welling in the corner of her eyes just before dropping him.

　　"Scar, wait!" Samuel shouted, standing up to follow her.