"One Tier 10, over thirty Tier 9s—the rest are all Tier 8," Ethan said, eyes on the target zone. "Once we move, I'll handle the Tier 10. The rest of you hold off the others. As soon as I take it down, we fall back. No heroics."
"Got it, Captain," Chris grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Just a hundred rats. Hardly a warm-up."
The others chuckled, clearly unbothered. After all, they'd already survived the Bloodfang Wolf tide. Compared to that, this? Looked like cleanup duty.
But Ethan's face stayed sharp. "Don't get cocky. I've got a bad feeling—these things might be way nastier than the Bloodfang Wolves."
"Understood," the whole squad replied, sober now.
They didn't doubt him.
If Ethan said they were dangerous, then they were.
He didn't exaggerate. Ever.
"Get ready."
A breath passed.
"Go!"
In a flash, the whole squad burst from the brush.
The Ironback Rats finally reacted—lifting their heads, little black eyes blinking, then squealing in alarm.
"Squeee! Squeee!"
Too late.
