Chapter 6: The Survivor

The early morning sun had barely risen when Shiro boarded the sleek Euro-Lycan Taskforce jet on the Tokyo tarmac. His gear—katana, pistol, spare magazines—was secured in custom cases. Aoi and Kenta were already aboard, trading quiet banter about European cuisine. Shiro offered a curt nod, then stepped into the small briefing cabin where Master Takeda and Aiko waited alongside two foreign officers: Captain Elise Dubois of France and Lieutenant Markus Vogel of Germany.

Elise was tall and elegant, her platinum-blonde hair pulled into a tight braid. She held a dossier stamped “Project Fenrir”. Markus, stockier with cropped dark hair and steely blue eyes, carried a briefcase labeled “Bio-Strike Protocols.”

Takeda opened the meeting. “Gentlemen, ladies, welcome. We’ve faced increasing pack activity across Europe. Tonight’s operation will be our first joint mission.”

Elise nodded. “Merci, Master Takeda. Our intel points to a cell operating in the outskirts of Lyon. They’ve been kidnapping civilians for… experiments.” She tapped her dossier. “We call them ‘Survivors’—those who escape captivity. We track them, hoping to learn more about the pack’s structure.”

Markus leaned forward. “Our last survivor, Emil, gave us crucial genetic samples. But he vanished before we could extract more information. We believe he’s still alive—maybe hiding among civilians.”

Shiro studied Elise’s face. “So tonight we find Emil, secure him, and extract data?”

Elise’s eyes flicked to Shiro. “Exactly. But caution: the pack has heavy reinforcements—at least three alpha-level werewolves guarding the facility.”

Aiko cleared her throat. “We’ll provide medical support and evac routes. Let us know when you need us.”

Shiro checked his pistol. “What’s our insertion point?”

Markus tapped a digital map. “Abandoned textile mill, two kilometers north. We’ll deploy via HALO jump. You’ll land at 2,000 feet, navigate on foot.”

Takeda closed his eyes for a moment. “Prepare your kits. We leave in ten minutes.”

High above the French countryside, Shiro felt the rush of cold air as he and Kenta prepared to jump. The dark interior of the plane rattled with tension. Aoi fastened her goggles, Elise checked her silenced pistol, and Markus reviewed coordinates.

Shiro’s heart hammered. He tightened his grip on the handle of his katana case. Mercy and justice would both be tested tonight.

The hatch opened. A blast of wind and moonlight flooded in. One by one, they leapt into the void.

Shiro’s body cut through the night sky. He stabilized his freefall, eyes on the distant ground. Below him, the textile mill loomed—a hulking silhouette against the river’s glint. He pulled the ripcord; his chute blossomed, slowing his descent. He landed softly in a thicket fifty meters from the mill’s outer wall.

He rolled, drew his katana, and signaled the others. Within seconds, Aoi, Kenta, Elise, and Markus emerged from the trees.

Markus pointed to a side entrance. “Cameras disabled. In.”

They slipped inside. The mill’s cavernous interior was lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs. Rusted looms stood idle, shadows pooling around them. In the distance, muffled voices and heavy footfalls echoed down a corridor.

Elise pressed a finger to her lips. “Alpha sentries up ahead.”

Shiro nodded. He and Markus crept forward, stepping over puddles of stagnant water. They rounded a corner into a large hall where two werewolves stood guard, rifles in hand. Their wolf forms were minimal—patchy fur, elongated canines, amber eyes—but their posture was alert.

Shiro signaled “three.”

Aoi readied her crossbow; Kenta flexed his fingers around the pike. Elise checked her silencer. At Shiro’s nod, chaos erupted:

Aoi fired two silver bolts: one pierced a guard’s shoulder, the other struck the second guard’s neck. Both collapsed, shifting into human form mid-fall.

Markus hurled a cryogenic grenade, shattering the rifles and freezing the floor in a spreading web of ice.

Kenta lunged, pike swinging, pinning the first guard’s transformed leg to the wall.

Shiro advanced on the second guard, katana flashing in a swift arc. The guard snarled, regaining lupine form, but Shiro’s blade severed his arm. He howled, then shifted into a man who collapsed.

Elise rushed forward, pistol drawn. “Clear!”

Shiro sheathed his katana and pressed on. Beyond the hall, a steel door led to the experimental wing. From behind it came muffled screams.

Inside the wing, glass containment chambers lined the walls—each holding a pale, gaunt figure hooked to IV drips. In the center, Emil crouched on the floor, wrists shackled, eyes wide with terror. His clothes were tattered; dark veins traced his skin.

Shiro approached cautiously. “Emil?”

Emil looked up. “Help me… please.”

A growl rumbled behind them. Shiro spun: an alpha pack leader stood at the door—towering, fur-black, muscles rippling. Its human form had abandoned entirely; claws glinted.

Shiro drew his pistol. “Aoi—cover us.”

Aoi took aim; Markus and Kenta flanked the creature. Elise moved beside Shiro, blade drawn. The alpha charged.

Shiro fired twice—both bullets embedded in its chest, but it barely slowed. It closed the distance in two bounds. Shiro dropped the katana case, drew the sword, and met its swipe. Sparks flew as steel met claw.

Elise slashed at the alpha’s flank, silver blade slicing deep. The creature roared, swinging its massive paw. Shiro ducked, thrusting his katana under its arm into its heart. The beast staggered, blood spraying, and collapsed in a heap of shifting flesh—werewolf to man in a spray of red mist.

Silence fell. Shiro knelt by Emil’s side and snapped the shackles with a quick slash. Emil fell forward, sobbing.

Aoi administered a sedative. “He’ll need time.”

Markus examined the containment chambers. “The research logs… they were experimenting with forced transformations.”

Elise nodded grimly. “These people were victims, not warriors.”

Shiro helped Emil to his feet. “You’re safe now.” Emil clung to Shiro’s arm. “Thank you, Hunter.”

Shiro offered a small, weary nod. “Let’s get you home.”

Back on the jet, Emil lay on a medical cot in the cabin. Aiko monitored his vitals. Shiro stood at the cabin door, watching the clouds roll beneath them.

Elise approached. “You saved a survivor—and perhaps an entire cell of victims.”

Shiro’s gaze remained fixed outside. “It’s what we do.”

Elise hesitated. “Still, you fight with mercy—and steel. Europe will welcome that.”

Shiro looked at her, then at Emil’s peaceful face. “Mercy… has a cost. But tonight, it saved lives.”

Markus joined them. “And we learned from each other.”

Shiro nodded. “Tomorrow, we share our techniques. Today, we remember why we fight.”

He turned back to the cot, placing a hand on Emil’s shoulder. “Rest now. We’ll handle the rest.”

The jet roared toward Tokyo, carrying hunters, survivors, and a fragile alliance forged in blood and steel.