Alba took the kick from that nearly 10-foot-20-inch-tall monster head-on, her arms crossed to absorb some of the impact. Even with her strength, the girl slammed into a wall. She would have suffered serious internal injuries if it weren't for her armor, her bloodline, and the fact that she had let herself be caught in that kick on purpose.
That guy was big, and with unparalleled strength, but he was slow, much slower than the three vampires who were learning by the minute to fight more and more in sync. The shot from Marcel's large-caliber sawed-off shotgun resonated through the air, shattering a significant portion of the monster's knee, which remained propped up by its other leg until two bullets to its body and a slash from Gisela made it roll over to protect itself.
Shit, the wounds those guys were inflicting weren't regenerating normally; they were using silver bullets or something. That's what Master Tarmien was thinking, though he hadn't yet realized the game was over.
