“Damn it,” Leon muttered, slapping in his last magazine.

The bullet didn’t just hit the parasite on the monster’s back—it detonated it, spraying black ichor. The Garrador stumbled, and Leon fired again. And again. Each round found a joint, a tendon, a glowing weak spot he hadn’t even consciously seen.

He vaulted the wall.

But the gun never missed.

Time slowed. The world turned to amber.