He caught a zombie by the jaw, his fingers digging into the bone before he twisted, snapping the neck with an abrupt, wet crack. He didn't summon a single spatial rift to do the work for him. He wanted to feel the resistance. He wanted to destroy everything that stood between him and his female with his own two hands.
The final twenty zombies in the stable courtyard tried to swarm him, their decayed hands reaching for his shoulders, but Lucan's momentum was unstoppable. He phased through the front two, reappeared in the centre of the group, and exploded outward in a feral blur of claws and teeth. The sheer kinetic energy of his acceleration sent severed limbs and broken torsos flying into the sandstone walls.
When the courtyard finally went still, Lucan stood in the centre of the meat market he had created, his chest heaving, his claws dripping with black fluid. He didn't look back at the bodies. He didn't wait for Sarge or the rest of Snow Team Beta.
