Imdiately, a bucket appeared filled with fresh blood, along with a pile of arrows and bolts neatly placed on the bench.
Without wasting any ti, Ivy picked up the arrows and began dipping their tips into the blood of the freshly slaughtered chickens. One by one, she coated them carefully, her movents calm and deliberate before laying them back in place on the bench.
Next, she picked up a firecracker. Without bothering to muffle the sound or conceal its purpose, Ivy tossed it high into the sky.
Boom!
The firecracker exploded loudly above, echoing across the area and drawing imdiate attention.
“What the hell is she doing? Has she gone crazy?” Mr. Charles asked with a scoff, though a flicker of unease crossed his expression.
Just then, Ivy picked up her bow and the blood-coated arrows. She stepped into position with steady precision, drawing the bowstring back as she aid outward.
“Oh my goodness... she’s going to kill us! She’s actually going to shoot!” the agent who had been maintaining his composure suddenly blurted out, terror flashing in his eyes.
“Shut up!” Mr. Charles barked imdiately, his expression hardening. “She’s just a woman! I don’t believe we actually failed to intimidate her.”
“We should leave for now,” the agent insisted quickly, panic creeping into his voice. “She’s not like she was when she first ca to rent this bunker. She’s different... sothing is off.”
Without wasting another second, he rushed toward the second truck and climbed inside.
After a brief hesitation, Mr. Charles followed him in as well.
He had no choice but to trust the agent—after all, he was the one who brought them here and claid to understand Ivy best.
But then—
Ivy released the arrows.
THWIP!
The shots landed with precision, striking and sealing the truck doors instantly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Fuck!!!” Mr. Charles roared from inside the truck, fury and panic mixing in his voice. “She’s insane! I’m going to teach that bitch a lesson! Who the hell does she think she is?!”
Just then—
GROWLS...
Deep, eerie growls filled the air.
From the distance, creatures began to erge.
So were small, toddler-like monsters with sharp claws dragging along the ground. Others were even smaller—baby-sized forms, distorted and grotesque, their faces twisted beyond recognition. They moved on unsteady limbs, their features horrifying: oversized ears, razor-sharp teeth, and cracked skin stretched over unnatural forms.
“What the hell...?!” Mr. Charles shouted from inside the truck. “That bitch actually summoned monsters with that firecracker?!”
His anger flared instantly.
anwhile, the creatures did not approach Ivy’s bunker. The system protection kept the base sealed and untouched.
Instead, the monsters began circling the trucks.
The scent of blood in the air—especially from the chicken blood Ivy had used on the arrows—seed to attract them, confusing their senses and drawing them around the vehicles like prey.
“Just stay quiet,” the agent whispered urgently. “They’ll pass once they realize there’s nothing here. They’re low-level monsters. Not the kind that can open the truck or flip it over.”
“You think I have patience for this?!” Mr. Charles snapped, his voice filled with rage. “That woman is going to pay! I don’t care why the bunker isn’t being attacked—but I will break into that place and drag her out myself!”
His grip tightened.
“These are just child-level monsters. Nothing I can’t handle.”
With that, he abruptly pushed open the truck roof hatch.
Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed one of the injured won and flung her outward.
“Please—NO!” she scread.
But it was already too late.
The monsters turned instantly.
Her screams filled the air as they sward her, her voice fading rapidly beneath the horrifying feeding sounds.
Mr. Charles stood on top of the truck, knife in hand, breathing heavily.
“I’m coming for you, bitch!” he roared toward Ivy’s direction. “You’re going to regret this!”
But Ivy’s voice cut through the chaos like ice.
“If anyone is dying today... it’s you and your n. And don’t you dare ntion my children with that filthy mouth of yours.”
Her tone was low, sharp, and filled with controlled rage.
Bang!
An arrow shot through the air in an instant.
It struck Mr. Charles directly in the leg.
“AHHHH!!!” he scread, collapsing slightly as he clutched his wounded leg in agony.
He barely managed to steady himself before trying to retreat back into the truck.
But the monsters had already finished with the woman.
Now, they turned their attention fully to him.
One of the smaller “baby” monsters latched onto his injured leg first, biting down viciously.
“GET OFF !!” he roared, stabbing wildly at them.
But it was useless.
More of them sward in.
They dragged him downward, tearing and pulling as he struggled violently, stabbing at whatever he could reach—neck, head, limbs—but their numbers overwheld him.
Within monts, he was pulled from the truck completely, swallowed by the growing swarm as feeding began around him as well.
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