Continuation...
JESSICA
The ground beneath me trembles with every swing, vibrations shooting up through my legs like the earth itself is recoiling from the violence. Dust rises, clinging to my tongue, burning my eyes. Steel clashes, sharp and metallic, a sound that scrapes against my skull. My twin swords hum like angry vipers in my grip—one slicing low, the other arcing high. My forearms ache from the strain, but I grit my teeth and push harder. Menace is beside me, fluid and ruthless, carving through Agrona's barrage of flying blades like a demon with a vendetta carved into his soul.
And still… she doesn't back down.
Agrona stands like death made flesh, dark robes swirling in the heated wind, her pale skin untouched, eyes glowing like coals beneath shadowed brows. Cold. Unshaken. Mocking us with her very stillness. Her arms sweep outward—ten razor-sharp swords erupt from the air, spinning and shrieking toward us like they hunger for blood.
I twist sideways, lungs burning, dragging a blade across two of hers mid-air, severing them before they land. Sparks explode and sting my cheeks. Menace dives, rolls, kicks back up and slices three out of the sky in a flurry of motion that would make Blade himself blink. His eyes meet mine for a heartbeat—steady, fierce. We've trained for worse.
Then Mountain Lion roars.
She launches herself at Agrona—claws out, silent and fast as wind. My stomach knots. Agrona grins. With one flick of her wrist, a black dagger—long, jagged, shimmering with eerie green veins—forms in her palm.
"Naomi, wait—!" I shout, voice cracking.
Too late.
The dagger pierces through Mountain Lion's side—just under the ribs.
She gasps.
Everything stops.
Her claws twitch mid-air. She stumbles back, confusion flashing in her wide eyes. Her nanomask flickers, recedes like liquid metal, revealing her face—ashen, trembling. Her mouth opens, no words come. Blood slips through her fingers, hot and bright, splashing against the dry, cracked ground. The Quiver-lined suit... it wasn't supposed to be pierced.
"Jess…" she whispers, breath wet, voice barely there.
I'm already there, catching her as she collapses into my arms. My knees slam into the dirt, jarring my spine. My hands press hard against the wound. Blood's warm—too warm—and my fingers are already slick with it.
"No, no—stay with me. Stay awake," I whisper, brushing the hair from her clammy forehead. My chest feels tight, each heartbeat a hammer blow.
My comms crackle.
"Ventures, this is Black Cardinal—we need evac! Now!"
Seconds stretch into an eternity.
Then—
Zetacode arrives like lightning.
A green blur halts beside me in a shockwave of wind and dust, the sudden force stealing my breath. He kneels, jaw tight, gentle hands already scooping Naomi from the ground as if afraid she'll shatter.
"I got her," he says, his voice sharp with urgency but low with something else—fear.
"Take her to the Oyo Clinic—now. Use your burst phase."
He nods once. Then he's gone—vanishing in a streak of light and speed that splits the horizon, leaving the scent of ozone behind.
I rise.
My hands shake. Not with fear—rage. Pure, unfiltered rage that burns hotter than the pain in my muscles.
Agrona wipes Naomi's blood from her dagger with her thumb, then smears it across her cheek like war paint, eyes locked on me with smug satisfaction.
"You've lost one," she says, her voice a soft poison. "You'll lose the rest soon enough."
Menace steps beside me, silent. His jaw clenches, blades twitching in his hands. Blood trails down one arm, his knuckles white. His eyes are locked on Agrona like he's already digging her grave.
I step forward. My swords cross in front of me like an X.
"No," I say coldly, my voice flat but trembling with hate. "You're the one who's lost."
We charge.
Agrona spins—two scimitars flick into existence mid-motion, catching both our strikes with a clang like temple bells. The shock runs up my arms, rattling my teeth, but we don't stop. Not this time.
We're not fighting her.
We're punishing her.
Menace strikes low, sweeping at her legs with twin arcs of silver. I come in high, blades like lightning, hammering down at her head and shoulders. Agrona blocks—barely. She snarls, twisting, flinging six new blades from her back like wings, all aimed at our throats.
Menace spins, dodges two, slices three out of the air. I drop low, my breath tearing in my chest, let the last blade whistle past, and return with a rising uppercut that gashes her ribs open.
She screams—a raw, ugly sound—and stumbles back, instantly summoning a dozen more swords from the air, spinning them into a cyclone that surrounds her like a storm.
Too late.
We break through.
Menace vaults over the cyclone, blades crossed like scissors—and brings them down on her from above. Agrona raises one hand and blocks, her arm cracking under the impact. She tries to summon another weapon—
I'm already there.
My left blade drives through her palm, pinning it to her own summoned sword.
She shrieks, eyes wild, blood splattering her face.
Menace comes in again, low this time—his blade carves through her knee. She falls, hard, coughing blood that stains the ground black.
She tries to rise—
I kick her in the face.
Her head snaps back. Teeth scatter across the dirt.
She screams again and calls more blades—but they flicker. She's weakening. Her control is breaking.
We move as one.
Menace slashes her across the chest—deep. I drive both blades into her abdomen, the resistance of flesh and bone shuddering up my arms. She tries to retaliate with a short sword—but Menace catches her wrist, twists, and breaks it with a brutal snap that makes her howl.
Still she fights.
Still she tries.
She roars, summoning one final, massive obsidian sword—towering, jagged like death incarnate.
She raises it.
I slice through her arm at the elbow.
The sword drops with a dull thud.
Menace grabs her by the throat.
"I want her to see it," I say, voice like ice.
He slams her to her knees, holding her upright.
I step forward.
Agrona's face is bloodied, broken, half her weapons shattered. Her mouth opens, defiant even now, chest heaving raggedly.
"You think this changes anything?" she rasps.
"No," I say.
"It ends everything."
I drive both swords into her chest and twist, feeling her body jerk against mine.
She doesn't scream this time.
She gurgles.
Her body spasms—light flickering in her eyes, then dying.
We step back and let her fall.
The dust takes her.
She doesn't rise.
A silence falls.
And then—
A pulse.
The air behind us bends. Warps.
The sky dims.
I feel him before I see him.
A cold that isn't just cold — it's ancient. It presses against my chest like invisible hands, making my breath hitch.
Erebus.
He doesn't arrive through a portal. He simply... is. Standing there now, on the battlefield, walking toward the Forge Tower like he owns the world.
The Oyo Empire warriors react instantly.
They charge — dozens of them — swords, spears, cutlasses flashing in the sun. War cries rip through the air, sharp and desperate.
Erebus raises both hands slowly, like a man bored by the challenge in front of him.
From his elbows down, his arms glow a deep, unnatural purple, pulsing with raw energy like molten stone.
He claps.
Once.
The sound splits the sky like thunder from hell.
The warriors in the front rows — at least two dozen — don't even have time to scream. They turn to ash mid-charge, expressions frozen in shock before the wind scatters them. The rest are hurled backward like rag dolls, smashing into stone walls with bone-cracking force.
The shockwave slams into us, heat burning against my skin. My swords bite into the ground as I drop to one knee, teeth gritted, forcing myself not to be blown back. Beside me, Menace shields his eyes, the edges of his coat snapping in the violent wind.
Agrona is dead.
But Erebus is just getting started.
He walks forward, completely unfazed by the carnage — as if the screams and the smell of burnt flesh don't even register. His gaze is fixed ahead, every step steady, controlled.
Past the dying.
Past the scorched earth.
Straight toward the Forge Tower.
This… just changed everything.
Behind me, the Forge Tower looms — its black-and-silver frame rising above Oyo like a silent sentinel. Inside, the Time Crystal and Quivers are sealed tight. If Erebus reaches them… it's over.
Beside me, Menace shifts, his jaw clenched so hard I can hear the grind of his teeth. "You feel that?"
Yeah. I do.
The pressure thickens with every step Erebus takes — like gravity itself is bending toward him. My chest feels heavy, my hands tighten around my swords without meaning to. The air vibrates with something I can't name, but my instincts scream that it's wrong.
Then the sky screams.
WHOOSH!
Aviator rockets overhead — twin thrusters burning neon-blue, his modified suit bristling with weapons. Cannons. Launchers. Pulse blasters. Targeting drones. He's a flying fortress.
To his right, Peregrine Falcon dives — wings tight, movements sharp. His gauntlets flicker red, primed for destruction.
"Engage!" Aviator barks over comms.
Falcon doesn't hesitate. He dives hard, unleashing a deadly rain of high-impact rounds, explosives, and wing blades.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
Erebus lifts one hand — just one.
And rewrites physics.
The bombs halt mid-air — freeze — then reverse, like time itself bends for him. They slam into Falcon's chest. His wings snap, and his scream cuts through the chaos as he spirals down, trailing smoke and shattered metal before smashing into the dirt.
Aviator's voice hardens. "Try this."
Then the storm begins.
Mini-missiles streak down. Chain guns roar. Plasma mortars explode in blinding bursts. The noise is a wall of violence.
Erebus keeps walking.
Then—
WHUMMMM!
A pulse erupts from him — not fire, not shockwave, but something deeper. Reality itself seems to twist, the air tearing in purple and red streaks. Everything Aviator threw at him vaporizes mid-flight.
Aviator scrambles to raise shields — too slow.
Erebus flicks a finger, and a crimson arc slices the air. The left shoulder cannon shears away in a spray of sparks.
Then reality bends again.
Aviator screams as his legs fold backward, metal grinding and twisting like it's alive. The agony in his voice cuts through me. He crashes to the ground — silent.
I grit my teeth until my jaw aches.
From above—
A flash brighter than lightning.
Time Manipulator drops from the sky like a meteor, blue nanotech trailing off him in glowing ribbons. His landing shakes the earth, cracks spiderwebbing out from his fist. Dust swirls around him like a slow-motion wave.
He rises, armor plates locking over him with a sharp mechanical hiss.
He plants himself between Erebus and the Tower.
"You're not getting past me," he says, voice low, steady — but I can hear the steel in it.
Erebus tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly.
"I always get past," he replies, tone almost soft — but carrying a promise that makes my stomach knot.
The plates on Time Manipulator's back split, micro-missiles sliding out, tips glowing. The air fills with a piercing metallic whine before they launch.
Erebus doesn't blink.
The missiles hit — THUD-THUD-THUD — fire and shrapnel exploding. The shockwave blasts dust into my face, stinging my eyes.
Before the smoke clears, Time Manipulator rockets forward. His boots roar as he drives both feet into Erebus's chest. The crack of impact echoes like a gunshot, forcing Erebus a step back.
Nanotech arms bloom from Time Manipulator's back, huge fists smashing into Erebus's chest with bone-rattling force. The ground beneath Erebus cracks as he's pushed back another step.
Erebus's face shifts — not in pain, but interest.
Then he lunges. His fingers claw into the nanotech helmet, ripping it apart in one savage pull. The pieces melt into liquid metal.
Time Manipulator's expression stays hidden, but the tension in his stance says enough. The armor surges forward, resealing just as Erebus's fist arcs in.
The punch lands.
Metal groans. Time Manipulator flips backward twice before cratering into the ground.
Erebus advances, calm, his arm glowing deep purple. Energy snakes down his forearm into his fist, thick with power.
He thrusts forward.
The beam slams into a nanotech shield, rippling it like liquid glass. The force drives Time Manipulator back, boots gouging deep scars in the dirt.
The beam fades.
Time Manipulator bursts forward. His boot transforms mid-strike into a massive plate, stomping Erebus's fist to the ground. His gauntlet smashes into Erebus's jaw with a crack.
Skin splits.
Blood runs down Erebus's cheek.
He touches it. His smile is slow, almost amused.
"Impressive."
Then he rips his pinned hand free — the violent force flinging Time Manipulator through the air. He slams chest-first into the dirt.
Erebus is on him in a blink. Six punches hammer into his armor, the sound like metal folding in on itself. Time Manipulator blocks one, but Erebus's hand clamps his helmet.
Purple light floods the space.
The blast hits. His suit flares white-hot, then he's sent skidding across the ground, dirt and stone exploding behind him.
The ground rumbles under my boots. My pulse quickens, a knot tightening in my chest. The air is electric — not just from the chaos crackling across the battlefield, but from Leonard's raw, unrelenting speed.
A red-and-green blur slices past me like a lightning strike, the gust tearing at my hair, stinging my eyes. His presence is a storm, and Erebus is caught in the heart of it.
Zetacode doesn't just run — he tears through space, fury radiating off him like heat. His hands clamp onto Erebus's arm and chest in one brutal motion. The sight is gone before my mind catches up — they vanish, swallowed by their own violence, like two ghosts dragged into another realm.
The shockwave they leave behind is deafening. My ears ring, my bones feel the impact, and dust swirls thick around me. In the haze, I can't see them — only the jagged trail of pulverized rock and shattered earth far ahead.
---
LEONARD
My fingers dig into Erebus's right arm and chest like steel claws, my knuckles aching from the force. I don't care. Anger drives me, hot and unrelenting. His weight is nothing — just a weapon in my hands.
Each step detonates beneath me, my legs pounding the earth into craters. Wind screams in my ears, and the world blurs into streaks of green and gray.
I use him like a battering ram. A jagged boulder looms — I slam his back into it, feeling the violent shudder in my own arms as the stone bursts into shards. I grit my teeth, the impact jolting through my shoulders, but I keep going. Another rock — shattered. A massive tree — split in half with a sound like bones breaking.
He jerks with every blow, his armor groaning under the punishment, yet he's still resisting — fists tightening, eyes glowing with a calm I hate.
The forest disappears in heartbeats, the world a tunnel of destruction. His body tears through bark and splinters, his breaths ragged but defiant.
We break free into open ground. Ahead, an old stone building — weathered, crumbling — perfect.
I hurl him forward, my arms screaming from the strain, and the wall takes him in a thunderclap of cracking stone and choking dust.
But Erebus is relentless. The instant he hits, his fist flares — violent, purple fire blooming outward. The heat slashes across my cheek as I dodge, and the scent of scorched air fills my lungs.
I lunge, catch his leg, and drag him sideways, the wall screaming apart under us. My muscles burn with the effort as I swing him around the structure, his body ripping gaping holes into the stone. Finally, I whip him down, the ground tearing open under his landing.
He's already on his feet, chest heaving, sweat streaking through the dust on his face. His left hand ignites with molten red — and the sky breaks. Flaming meteors plummet, each one big enough to erase me if I falter.
I weave between them, my heart pounding like a war drum. The air burns my lungs, heat licking my skin. I close the distance, rage tightening my jaw, and drive my fist — a burning spear of lightning — into his chest.
The sound rattles my skull. He staggers into the broken building, bricks raining around him.
His retaliation is immediate — purple blasts screaming from his fists. I slip between them, my speed a living storm. I'm on him before the dust settles, my fists crackling with green-white lightning.
Two punches — his face snaps left, then right.
A dozen — ribs, chest, stomach. His breath catches in grunts of pain.
A hundred — each strike landing faster, harder, until he's drowning in them.
One last cross to his chest crumples him against the wall, but I don't stop. My arms ache, my breath is a ragged fire in my chest, yet I keep going — two hundred strikes in seconds, lightning exploding with every impact. The wall fractures, stones splitting like ice.
I pull back for the finishing blow — my vision narrowing, the taste of victory like blood in my mouth.
But his hand shoots up, snapping around my neck. Pain flares instantly, white-hot, as his grip crushes my windpipe. My hands claw at his arm, desperation flooding me as spots flicker in my vision.
"You're strong, Zetacode," he says, voice deep, steady — even mocking. There's a smile in his tone. "But never forget — I have slaughtered speedsters like you for a thousand years."
His words sink into my skull, heavy and cold, even as my lungs scream for air. My strength bleeds out of me.
And then — he throws me.
The force is blinding. I skip across the ground, rocks breaking against my ribs, the shock punching the air from my lungs. Pain radiates through my entire body, and I roll to a halt in a choking cloud of dust.
My chest heaves, every breath a battle. My muscles scream, my mind tells me to stay down.
But no. The fight's not over. Not while I can still move.
To be continued....