Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 511

Chapter 511: Third Wave

32:40:09

Frostfang

They returned approximately two hours later, making it the fastest time they ever attempted an attack after one wave. Maera had a bitter taste in her mouth as she read the radar to see them return before the Deltas could get through half of the injured.

And judging by the way that Silas grew slightly pale, she knew he shared her dread.

Maera took a deep breath as they took formation and her stomach dropped when she noticed that the newer ferals, the ones that Hades coined the term "prime ferals," were no longer the same two that had ripped through their ranks mere hours ago.

They were now four, snarling even from a distance.

Silas saw them too because he exchanged loaded glances with her. If the last wave had rendered eight dead and almost fifty critically injured, this wave would be harder won—if won at all.

Maera did not even pay her snickering son any mind. She was calculating risks and probable casualties.

After they had relayed the info about the new addition to Darius’s army, Hades had analysed the footage and had said confidently that the ferals were copies of Eve—just slightly smaller with slower healing compared to her.

But from what he saw, he deduced that they were not simply ferals. They were gammas that still had their consciousness, but Darius had found a way to create duplicates of Eve. There seemed to be a downside to them, though.

They tired easily. It was in the way they grew less ferocious and active during battle. Unlike the usual ferals that had no concept of exhaustion, the prime ferals, as Hades had put it, had their limit and required recharge. For how long? He had not been sure.

But now it seemed they had just figured it out.

Two hours of downtime.

Maera wondered just how much more they had in their arsenal.

The gammas came in first this time, racing forward toward their forces—sixty, maybe more. A wave of bodies charging through the snow.

The prime ferals stayed back.

Flanking James.

Watching.

Waiting.

James stood at the rear, arms crossed, that same lopsided smile on his face. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t fighting.

Just observing.

Like this was a test.

"Hold!" Silas barked. "Wait for effective range!"

Frostfang’s line held—rifles raised, fingers on triggers, breaths held.

The enemy closed the distance.

Two hundred meters.

One-fifty.

One hundred.

"FIRE!"

The air erupted.

Gunfire shredded the silence—a thunderous wall of sound. Muzzle flashes lit up the snow like lightning.

The charging enemy line buckled.

Five gammas dropped. Ten. Fifteen.

But they kept coming.

And then—

They fired back.

Silverpine’s gammas raised their weapons mid-charge, still running, and opened fire.

Bullets screamed through the air.

A Frostfang gamma beside Maera jerked, blood spraying from his shoulder. He went down.

Another took a round to the chest. Fell.

"KEEP FIRING!" Silas roared. "DON’T LET THEM CLOSE!"

Both sides unleashed hell.

It was chaos—pure, brutal chaos. Bullets tearing through flesh. Snow stained red. Bodies dropping on both sides.

Maera squeezed her trigger—three-round burst. An enemy gamma stumbled, clutching his leg, then went down as another round caught him in the chest.

Reload.

Fire again.

The enemy was close now. Fifty meters. Forty.

"SHIFT!" Silas bellowed. "PREPARE FOR CLOSE QUARTERS!"

Maera dropped her rifle, felt the change begin—bones cracking, muscles expanding—

But the enemy was faster.

They hit Frostfang’s line like a freight train.

Wolves crashed into wolves. Claws met claws. The gunfire didn’t stop—gammas who couldn’t shift fast enough still firing point-blank into the melee.

Maera’s wolf form tore into an enemy gamma, jaws snapping. She caught his throat, bit down, felt bone crunch.

He collapsed.

She spun—

Another enemy was already there, claws raking across her ribs. She snarled, twisted, drove her shoulder into his chest. He staggered back.

Gunfire cracked—the enemy jerked, a bullet through his skull. He dropped.

Silas was beside her, rifle still raised, firing into the chaos with brutal precision.

"LEFT!" he barked.

Maera turned—

Two enemy gammas charging her position. She shifted her weight, braced—

Silas fired twice. Both dropped.

"Stay close!" he shouted, ejecting an empty magazine, slamming in a fresh one.

Maera nodded, her wolf form moving in tandem with him—him covering with gunfire, her engaging anything that got too close.

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