The streets churned with chaos.
Bridges collapsed, and ruptured fires roared high across the hellish-red horizon. Resistance fighters and Rhane's commandos clashed in a scarred battleground that looked more like the destruction of a collapsing kingdom than a city. The air vibrated with far-off thuds and gunfire—but the heart of devastation was here.
In the shattered city square, Marco and Bullet stood—scathed, bloodied, and unbowed.
The ground beneath their feet was torn up and cratered. Lamp posts were twisted like reeds. Every window within fifty meters had already been shattered by the shockwaves of their last blows.
Marco, blades protruding from his shoulders and arms, stood with his chest rising and falling slowly. Cuts along his face, his posture remained unbroken. Unwavering.
Standing facing him, Bullet was half-naked now, battered muscles oozing blood. His weathered arms shone with steel hardness, fists clenched. A feral grin still cutting his lips, his body quivering with anticipation.
Marco:
"This ends now."
Bullet:
"Good. I was tired of holding it back."
The two men were crouched, ready to make their move—one final charge to end it all.
But just as they were going to—
BZZZZZZZTTTTTTT—KRA-KA-KOOM!!
A blinding burst of blue lightning ripped through the sky, followed by a scream that split the air and reverberated through the city like thunder that was wrapped in agony.
On the opposite side of the city street, a bolt of lightning fell on a group of Rhane's soldiers—slinging soldiers about like ragdolls. Sparks scattered in every direction.
Then, stillness.
Smoke surrounded the area.
Marco and Bullet braced, instinctively whirling toward the flash, with no idea what fresh power had entered the fray.
Then he coalesced.
From the smoke emerged a figure—a man, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in dark armor etched with golden streaks that pulsed faintly with energy. His face was hidden behind a sleek metallic mask—its mouth shaped into a permanent, toothy grin, and two glowing blue eyes stared forward with emotionless calm.
On each hand, he held a golden trident, crackling with unstable electricity that leaped wildly across the prongs. His air vibrated as if filled with a living storm.
He swept a trembling, charged guard out of the way, his smoldering body thudding onto the floor.
Mysterious Man (His voice was deep and echoing, with a wet, gurgling rasp—like a drowned god speaking through waterlogged lungs.")
"It seems that I was a bit too late… but there is still time to stop him."
He moved forward, completely ignoring Marco and Bullet, his gaze scanning the horizon, looking for someone.
Bullet's nostrils flared. His pride smoldered more hotly.
Bullet (coldly):
"Hey. Are you deaf or just suicidal?"
He crossed the distance in an aggressive stride.
Bullet:
"Who the fuck do you think you are… interrupting my fight?"
The man didn't respond. He didn't even look at Bullet.
He only lifted one trident slightly.
Mysterious Man:
"Move."
Instantly, before Bullet could even blink—
Z-ZRACK-KKRAK-KRASHHH!!
A flash of blue lightning crackled from the trident and plunged into Bullet's chest like a javelin. Bullet's body screamed with pain as millions of volts coursed through his hardened muscles, overloading his nervous system.
His roar was cut off when he collapsed, a tendril of smoke curling from his convulsing body, frozen in the cratered ground.
Knocked cold.
Marco tensed.
This dude wasn't just tough—he was in a class by himself. Even Bullet could not hold him back for one second.
The dude finally glanced at Marco for half a second—his face hidden, but his message received:
You are not my concern.
And then—he vanished.
With a single leap, the mysterious figure bounded from building to building, blue lines of electricity trailing behind. Every leap destroyed the buildings beneath him. He had a purpose—searching.
High above, deep within the still-intact lab monitoring center, a Resistance agent sat frozen in amazed silence, watching the recording.
"What in the devil's name was that guy?"
Even the systems couldn't follow his energy signature.
Marco stepped towards Bullet's slumped figure, wary still. Then, slowly, he looked up at the hissing horizon where the storm-man had disappeared.
Marco (to himself):
"Whoever you are… you're not with us. But you're not with Rhane either."
He turned away, blades retreating a little.
Marco:
"Von, wherever you are. Hurry. We may not have another chance like this."