"What in the freaking hells are these?!" Lena yelled, her Arcanatech whip cracking like thunder as she tore through the chest of a crazed Vonger.
The initial assumption about the Vongers was that they would be wasted, skinny addicts was wildly wrong. These mountain Vongers were disturbingly well-built, their muscles bulging with unnatural density, their strength significant enough to terrify the weaker Acolytes.
"Aren't these people supposed to be skinny and without energy?" Jog-Jog wondered, his gauntlet dripping with black blood as he crushed a Vonger's skull. "How are they so strong and well-built?"
"Just don't let them swarm you," Maya warned, her footwork impeccable as she delivered a controlled blow to the torso of an attacker. "Stay on your feet and focus!"
"Don't worry, Mommy," Jog-Jog retorted with a forced, manic humor. "These puny fights are nothing close to Dr. Orion's morning training exercise."
"If you don't want to get killed first, kill first!" they chorused, reciting Orion's grim training mantra.
The Vongers swarmed in the hundreds, mindless and unhinged, driven by the Maestro's command and the promise of the drug: "The more you kill, the more VETRA you get."
The mountain echoed with the cacophony of war. The screech of plasma rifles, the kinetic bursts of Syndicate armor, the metallic clang of swords, and the crackle of electrical weaponry. Despite the overwhelming Vonger numbers, the Acolytes were stronger and technologically superior, slowly gaining the upper hand.
In the thick of the fighting, Ashy's hysterical, high-pitched laugh could be heard. The power of his Arcanatech pistols was terrifying; each round seemed to increase in destructive force with every kill. His flexibility was impossible—he moved around the enemies like water, using their bodies as gruesome mediums for his next maneuvers.
He performed a perfect split, narrowly avoiding a wild swing, then, lying on his back, twisted his torso to lift himself. He grabbed a Vonger by the leg, fired a shot into the torso of the initial attacker, and then hurled the Vonger he was holding into the exact spot where the bullet was expanding, bursting the Vonger's head into a splatter of blood that showered his face. Instead of flinching, Ashy's laugh only intensified, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy in the grotesquerie.
"Show-off," Skye called out from across the fray, her tone carrying a hint of admiration. She was a mesmerizing whirlwind of motion, her combat rope spinning so fast it created a defensive, shimmering curtain. She would dart through the gaps of her own spinning weapon, delivering hundreds of skin-ripping lashes to enemies who could not get close. In a dazzling twirl, she lassoed a Vonger's neck and, with a brute snap, ripped the head clean off the body.
"O-kayyyyyyy," Markas muttered nervously as he withdrew his sword from a dead Vonger, witnessing the sheer, ecstatic bloodlust of the Looters.
"Hey, guys," Markas called the group to attention, pointing deeper into the mountain range. "I think they're running away from the other side of the mountain here."
Hind looked confused. "What do you mean they're running away?"
"I mean they're running here because they're either chased by something stronger or someone stronger," he explained, a cold suspicion settling in his voice.
**********
In the mobile command tent, a Supervisory Evangelist rushed in to deliver a report to Hano.
"Hano Sir," he began, trying to maintain composure. "Something anomalous is happening in raid area E-56."
Hano, leaning back with a look of profound boredom, groaned. "What could be stranger than me watching over some freaks and shit when I'm supposed to be home eating Garri and contemplting on how to break the news to my wife that I broke her favourite vase?"
The Evangelist, wary of his superior's mood, simplified his report. "Sir, the Vongers are exhibiting unnatural caution. Initially, the attack was uniform as expected, but after a few minutes, the Vongers are actively avoiding Area E-56, clustering in the adjacent sectors."
Hano scoffed. "Vongers have no instinct; they can't feel fear. Perhaps the acolytes in that area are already dead."
"That is where it becomes unusual, Sir. The acolyte who insisted on traveling solo—Arike—went in that direction alone. Due to the terrain, all other groups avoided E-56, yet she proceeded."
A spark of genuine curiosity ignited in Hano's eyes. He stood, his voice now sharp with conviction. "Hmmmm. Prepare my detail. Let's head over to Area E-56."
***********
Meanwhile on the battlefield, Solon was a force of utter, chilling brutality. Every acolyte watching was terrified, unable to comprehend the scale of the massacre performed by the frail-looking boy wielding the giant, ancient sword. What was a raid had become the playground of a demon.
Solon moved like a phantom, trails of black smoke following his after-image. He carved through the battlefield, Vongers, trees, and boulders alike being leveled to dust. His face was a mask of cold fury, burning with an anger fueled by regret and an urgent need to end the pawn war. Since arriving at Bayrock, he had sensed someone from his distant, dark past, a true threat to his twin soul, Kai. To protect Kai, he had seized control, and now he was in a desperate haste to destroy the immediate threat and move on to the real danger.
He didn't just kill the Vongers; he massacred them. Beheaded, split vertically, sliced and diced—the ways he butchered the enemy sent deep chills down the spines of the battle-hardened Acolytes. His sword, far from being a simple blade, was a focused destructive singularity, moving with impossible speed and force.
He was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. One moment, he was dodging a club swing, simultaneously driving his sword deep into a Vonger's chest and using the leverage to vault over the dying body, the next moment, he landed and, without breaking stride, executed a low, reverse sweep of his sword that took the legs out from under three Vongers, instantly followed by a vertical slash that cleaved one of the falling bodies in half, the resulting force sending the other two victims flying into a rock face.
"It seems that's the last one," Solon said, his voice quiet, as the final Vonger army was split in two.
Forgetting they were at war, the Acolytes roared with shouts of victory, firing their weapons into the air. They celebrated their first win, oblivious to the fact that they had witnessed the birth of a legend—The Butcher of Bayrock.
Little did they know, their celebration was premature.
Somewhere, amidst the bodies, a dying acolyte coughed up blood.
"Hano was right. We are all going to die."
**********
40 Minutes Earlier...