Her eyes had now completely turned molten gold, and scale-like patterns occasionally flashed beneath her skin before quickly vanishing.
"Not enough..." she murmured, her voice echoing across the empty rooftop. "I need more..."
On the street below, a team of demon hunters was carrying out its third rescue operation.
There were twelve of them, dressed in the guild's standard black combat uniforms, their weapons coated with special dye.
They advanced slowly along the barricades. Their target was an apartment building three blocks away. According to the last distress signal, more than a dozen survivors were still hiding in its basement.
The team was led by an old demon hunter named Harris. Fifty-two years old, his left eye had been clawed out by a Werewolf twenty years ago and replaced with a prosthetic. He gave a hand signal, and the team split into two groups, advancing under alternating cover.
At the first corner, five hybrid monsters charged out of a building. These were second-generation creations, fused with ghoul, Werewolf, and small amounts of demon genes. They stood over two and a half meters tall, with skin like hardened rubber and claws capable of tearing through steel plates.
They had no tactics, relying entirely on their numbers and instincts to charge.
"Fire!" Harris ordered grimly.
Demon-hunting bullets struck the monsters, bursting into clusters of grayish-white light that neutralized some of the mutated energy within them.
Two monsters fell to the ground, convulsing, but the other three charged through the hail of bullets and reached them. A young demon hunter was struck across the chest by a claw. His bulletproof vest tore like paper, and he was sent flying into a wall, where he lay still.
"Fall back! Use incendiaries!" Harris shouted as he fired.
But it was too late.
More monsters poured