The Sector 9 Exclusion Zone was a graveyard of the old world.
Here, the skyline wasn't dominated by the sleek chrome of the HPF citadels or the neon glitz of the Rose District. It was a rotting teeth-line of crumbling brick and mortar, overgrown with grey, choked ivy.
In the center of this urban decay stood St. Jude's Memorial Hospital.
Malina stood at the entrance of the emergency wing. The sliding glass doors were shattered, the shards glittering on the pavement like diamonds in the pale moonlight. The air smelled of wet plaster, rust, and the unmistakable, sweet-copper scent of old blood.
She adjusted her gauntlets, tightening the straps until the leather creaked. She wasn't wearing her full heavy armor today—just the standard light tactical vest and combat cargo pants. She didn't need the plate armor. Today was a test.
She placed a hand on her stomach.
Through the fabric of her uniform, she traced the line of the new scar. It was a thin, silvery ridge where the Mimic had opened her up like a fish. The Re-Genesis tank had healed the flesh, knitted the muscle, and fused the skin. But the phantom pain lingered. The memory of looking down and seeing her own insides was a cold knot in her mind.
"Command," Malina spoke into her comms, her voice steady and monotone. "Agent Malina entering the structure. Sensors indicate Class 6 biological signatures on the third floor. Maternity Ward."
"Copy that, Agent Malina," the dispatch officer replied. "Be advised, structural integrity is compromised. Proceed with caution."
"Understood."
Malina stepped through the broken doors.
Her boots crunched heavily on the debris-strewn floor. She didn't sneak. She didn't stick to the shadows like Max or move with the silent grace of Eren. She walked down the center of the hallway, her footsteps echoing like hammer strikes.
She wanted the Guut to know she was coming.
She reached the stairwell. The elevator was a twisted wreck at the bottom of the shaft. Malina climbed, her hand trailing along the peeling paint of the wall.
Third floor.
She pushed open the double doors. The Maternity Ward was a labyrinth of empty incubators and overturned gurneys. The ceiling tiles had rotted away, exposing the skeletal pipes and wires above.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Water leaked from a burst pipe somewhere in the darkness.
Malina stopped in the center of the nursing station. She closed her eyes, listening.
She heard the skittering.
It was a sound like dry leaves scraping against metal. It was coming from the ventilation ducts above her head. It was fast—faster than a human, erratic and hungry.
"I hear you," Malina whispered.
CRASH.
The ceiling vent directly above her exploded downward.
A cloud of dust and insulation rained down. Through the haze, a nightmare descended.
It was a Class 6 Guut: Reaper-Type.
It was hideous. A amalgamation of shadow-flesh and bone, shaped vaguely like a praying mantis, but the size of a minivan. It had four legs that ended in hooked talons capable of shredding steel. Its upper body was humanoid but elongated, with two massive scythe-arms made of solidified shadow-bone. Its face was a cluster of twitching mandibles and four glowing green eyes.
It landed on the reception desk, crushing the wood into splinters. It hissed, saliva dripping from its maw, burning holes in the linoleum floor.
Malina didn't flinch. She didn't step back. She simply brushed some drywall dust off her shoulder.
"Class 6," Malina noted, looking the beast in the eyes. "Mid-tier agility. High cutting power. Low durability."
The Guut shrieked—a piercing sound that would have paralyzed a normal civilian with fear. It launched itself off the desk, crossing the ten feet between them in a blur.
Its right scythe-arm swept horizontally, aiming to decapitate Malina in a single stroke.
Malina watched the blade coming. She could have ducked. She could have rolled.
Instead, she raised her left arm.
CLANG.
The sound was like a church bell being struck by a sledgehammer.
The Guut's bone-scythe slammed into Malina's forearm. It sliced through her tactical jacket. It cut the fabric.
But it stopped dead against her skin.
Malina's skin had turned a deep, flushed crimson. The Red Fluid—the essence of power and vitality—was surging through her veins, increasing her molecular density to that of hardened titanium.
The Guut's eyes widened (or widened as much as insectoid eyes could). It pushed, trying to drive the blade deeper, but Malina stood like a statue rooted to the earth.
"Is that it?" Malina asked.
She grabbed the Guut's scythe with her free hand. Her grip was punishing. Her fingers dug into the shadow-bone, creating spiderweb cracks in the creature's natural weapon.
"My turn."
Malina pivoted her hips and heaved.
She lifted the massive, 600-pound creature off the ground by its arm and slammed it into the floor.
BOOM.
The concrete slab beneath the linoleum shattered. The entire third floor shook, dust falling from the ceiling. The Guut screeched in pain, its carapace cracking from the impact.
It scrambled backward, scuttling away from this terrifyingly small human. It realized, with a primal dawn of horror, that it was not the apex predator in this room.
It tried to change tactics. It leaped onto the wall, digging its claws into the plaster, and scurried up to the ceiling. It moved erratically, zig-zagging to confuse her, preparing for a dive-bomb attack.
Malina looked up, unimpressed.
"You are annoying," she muttered.
She looked around for a weapon. She saw a heavy, industrial-grade X-ray machine that had fallen onto its side near the wall. It was a massive block of lead and steel, weighing easily half a ton.
Malina walked over to it. She grabbed the edge of the machine.
With a grunt of exertion that sounded more like a sigh, she lifted the massive device over her head. Her muscles bulged, the Red Fluid glowing beneath her skin like molten lava.
"Catch," she said.
She hurled the X-ray machine.
It flew through the air like a softball.
The Guut tried to dodge, but the hallway was too narrow. The machine slammed into the creature mid-air.
CRUNCH.
The impact smeared the Guut against the ceiling before gravity took over, and both the monster and the machine crashed to the floor in a tangled heap of metal and shadow-limbs.
The Guut lay pinned under the machine, two of its legs crushed, black ichor spraying across the room. It hissed and thrashed, trying to free itself.
Malina walked toward it. The sound of her boots was the only rhythm in the chaotic noise of the creature's struggle.
Step. Step. Step.
She reached the trapped monster. It snapped its jaws at her, flailing its remaining scythe-arm, trying to cut her legs.
Malina simply kicked the arm away. Her kick broke the limb instantly, snapping the bone with a dry pop.
She stood over the creature. She looked down at its thrashing form.
For a moment, the image superimposed itself. She saw the Mimic in the scrapyard. She saw the blade entering her stomach. She felt the helplessness she had felt lying in the dirt, holding her own intestines.
Max had saved her then. Max had tapped into a darkness she didn't understand to protect her.
But Max wasn't here now. And Malina needed to know—she needed to prove—that she didn't need saving anymore.
"I am a Titan," Malina whispered to the beast. "My body is the fortress."
The Guut looked up at her, sensing the shift in the air. The Red Fluid around Malina began to radiate heat, making the air shimmer. The floor tiles around her boots began to crack from the sheer pressure of her standing there.
She pulled her right fist back.
She didn't use a technique. She didn't use a fancy martial arts move. She simply channeled every drop of the Red Fluid into her right arm. Her muscles expanded, the veins glowing bright red, the air whistling as it was sucked into the vacuum of her preparing strike.
"Force Concentration: 100%," she stated.
She punched downward.
It wasn't just a punch. It was an execution.
Her fist connected with the Guut's armored head.
KA-BOOOM.
The sound was deafening, louder than a gunshot, deeper than thunder.
The impact didn't just crush the Guut's head; it atomized it. The shockwave traveled through the creature's body, liquefying its internal organs instantly. The force continued downward, punching through the monster, through the floor of the third floor, and blowing a hole into the second floor below.
Debris, dust, and black mist exploded outward in a ring.
Malina stood in the center of the crater she had created. Her arm was buried elbow-deep in the wreckage.
She slowly pulled her hand back. It was covered in black slime, but her skin was unbroken. Her knuckles weren't even bruised.
The Guut was gone. All that remained were twitching pieces of shadow-flesh that were rapidly dissolving into smoke.
Malina stood there for a long moment, breathing in the dusty air. She waited for the pain. She waited for her stomach to tear open. She waited for the weakness.
But there was nothing. Only the hum of adrenaline and the thrum of her own powerful heart.
She wiped the black ichor off her hand onto her cargo pants. She looked at her reflection in a piece of broken glass on the floor.
Her eyes were clear. The fear was gone.
She tapped her earpiece.
"Command," she said, her voice calm and bored. "Target neutralized. Sector 9 is clear."
"Already?" the dispatch officer sounded surprised. "Agent, sensors picked up a seismic event. Did the structure collapse?"
Malina looked at the hole in the floor.
"Negative," Malina replied. "Just some... aggressive renovation. Requesting extraction."
She turned and walked away, leaving the carnage behind her. She walked with her back straight, her stride long. She didn't touch the scar on her stomach this time. She didn't need to.
She was whole.