The four autocannons locked onto Ignis, unleashing a torrent of bullets. With the rhythmic pounding of gunfire, the glowing green trails of tracer rounds banished the darkness within the tunnel.
Ignis tried to evade the barrage with zigzag movements, but the confined space of the tunnel left him nowhere to dodge.
After taking several hits, he realized the enemy's rounds couldn't pierce his power armor—they merely ricocheted or shattered against the ceramite plating.
To protect the visor of his helmet, the Salamander turned sideways and lowered his head, using his sturdy shoulder plates to absorb the penetrating rounds. Their rounded design caused most of the shells to slide harmlessly along the curved armor edges.
"Damn it! What the hell is that thing?" The gunner of Vehicle One shouted through the comms. "Our shells barely scratch him!"
"Focus fire and keep shooting." Even the commander from Vision Corporation wasn't confident anymore. According to Three Gates Military Tech's combat data, these rounds were capable of killing even upper-tier Ethereals.
But the giant before them stood firm amidst the fourfold barrage of autocannons, advancing slowly and resolutely toward them.
The tracers revealed the truth—those so-called high-performance armor-piercing incendiaries were useless, sliding off his smooth armor or bursting into harmless sparks before falling to the ground.
Step by step, he approached, his heavy footsteps like drumbeats pounding against the chests of every armed Vision operative.
"Report! We're running low on ammo belts—need a few seconds to reload!" the gunner in Vehicle Three shouted over the radio.
"Damn it, what the hell is that thing!" yelled the commander of Vehicle Four, stunned. "Did Three Gates sell us defective goods?"
"Impossible," said the commander of Vehicle Two. "I tested it on an empty building a few days ago—blew half of it apart."
"Then why isn't that bastard even scratched!" The gunner of Vehicle One was on the verge of tears. "Reloading now—system estimates three seconds to cycle the belts."
"Prepare to fall back!" barked the Vision commander, suppressing his rising unease. "Keep your distance and continue firing! Deploy the autonomous combat mechs to engage!"
Behind the four armored vehicles, the hatches opened, releasing military-grade autonomous tactical mechs—heavy assault units that Vision had obtained through special channels.
They were bipedal tactical machines, slightly taller than a grown man. Each was equipped with an inert Ether-shield system capable of withstanding heavy blows from major Ethereals, and armed with twin-mounted flamethrowers.
Once deployed, the armored vehicles sealed their hatches and began reversing. But in the brief time it took, the auto-turrets could no longer track their target.
"Vehicle One, watch your right—target at three o'clock!" the Vision commander shouted.
"Impossible!" The gunner spun the scope toward the vehicle's right flank—only to see a massive, lightning-wreathed iron fist.
"In Vulkan's name!"
The roar that followed was deafening, leaving the accompanying infantry stunned by the thunderous blast.
That giant… he couldn't possibly intend to take on an armored vehicle with his fists, could he? The commander stared in disbelief at the crackling gauntlet. Even though Vision's patrol vehicles were weaker than Defense Force models, they could still endure blows from upper-tier Ethereals.
With a thunderous boom, the massive fist smashed straight through the turret. The once-reliable armor disintegrated instantly, and the gunner inside was pulverized across the cabin.
The commander of Vehicle One froze, his face splattered with blood and viscera. Wiping the remains from his eyes, he barely managed to glimpse the flamethrower mounted on that same fist spewing fire into the cabin.
The remaining crew were roasted alive inside, crisp and charred.
"Go, go, go! Reverse! Full throttle!" The Vision commander, a former Defense Force officer, was the first to react. "Surround him with the mechs—raise the shields!"
The remaining three armored vehicles snapped out of their shock, slammed the throttles, and began a panicked retreat, firing their autocannons wildly. In their frenzy, they mowed down several of their own stunned infantrymen.
"Damn it! Watch your friendly fire!" the commander roared. "Infantry, scatter! Deploy smoke—blind that target!"
Ignis tore his fist free from the burning wreckage of the first vehicle, only to find himself surrounded by eight bipedal mechs, each about two meters tall.
These grotesque machines spread out metal plates into makeshift shields—resembling the frilled necks of Earth's reptiles—crackling with blue electricity.
And the most laughable part—they were firing their twin flamethrowers at the Salamander.
Playing with fire in front of a Salamander? That's like brandishing a gun before John Wick. Ignis could only sneer at such suicidal bravado.
With the wreckage shielding his back, he no longer had to worry about rear cannon fire. The infantry's small-caliber weapons were utterly useless.
He raised his fist, smashing a mech into a mangled heap. Its proud shield system failed instantly. Grabbing the ruined chassis, Ignis hurled it toward a still-firing armored vehicle.
The vehicle tried to move—too late. The impact crushed its front armor, sending it sliding several meters backward. The mech's Ether battery ruptured and ignited, triggering the vehicle's ammunition and blowing the turret sky-high.
The resulting explosion shook the battlefield. The two remaining vehicles fell back even farther, their firing accuracy collapsing—their crews had clearly gone half-mad with fear.
A burst of gunfire missed Ignis entirely, shredding several of their own mechs instead.
The Vision commander screamed through comms, but his crews were beyond reason—panicked, babbling, firing aimlessly.
They were not soldiers—just armed civilians with fancy toys. The commander could already feel death's shadow closing in.
The infantry tossed smoke grenades, filling the tunnel with Ether-laced vapor—a special compound meant to jam targeting systems. He hoped it would at least slow the giant down.
"The Fire of Vulkan burns within my chest!" another thunderous roar erupted.
The Vision commander saw only a wall of fire expanding toward him. His thoughts were obliterated by the agony—his body scorched alive. He screamed, unable to comprehend what he was facing. Armor-piercing rounds, useless. Mechs, useless. Smoke, useless.
Did such a being truly exist in this world? Was it a new Defense Force mech? But why would the Defense Force help these slum-dwellers?
His thoughts ended there, as Ether-fueled flames reduced his body to ash.
Ignis found it amusing. Smoke meant nothing to him—unless his enemies emitted no heat signature, his Fire-Sight could still see them all.
Ignoring the mechs' futile flamethrowers, he purged the infantry in the way his Chapter brothers loved most—burning them to cinders, inhaling the lingering ash of his foes.
When the last soldier in his vision had fallen, he turned to finish off the remaining mechs.
He knew that if it had been anyone else from the Cunning Hares, the Vision troops would've crushed them easily. But their misfortune was facing a Space Marine—one with better arms, stronger flesh, and the blood of Vulkan in his veins.
The last two armored vehicles kept calling for their commander, but the only reply was agonized screaming. They had no idea what to do—even if they wanted to retreat, there was nowhere to go.
Ahead lay the road to New Eridu; behind, the ruins of the old metro demolition site.
But before them stood a monster more terrifying than ten thousand serial killers. Their cannons were toys—their firepower, nothing but noise.
Just as they hesitated between fight and flight, the Salamander made the decision for them.
Another mech was hurled like a projectile. This time, the vehicle managed to reverse quickly, dodging most of the impact—though part of its armor was torn off.
"We can't escape!" shouted the commander of Vehicle Two. "We'll have to fight to the death!"
"What the hell is that monster!" The commander of Vehicle Four's hands trembled violently.
"He's charging us!" the driver screamed as the giant sprinted toward them. "Commander, what do we do?"
"Fire! Even if it's useless, fire! Ram him! We weigh over ten fu***ng tons—we'll crush that bastard!"
The driver gritted his teeth, slammed the gear, and floored it. The mechanical beast roared forward on six wheels, charging straight at the emerald giant.
"Die, monster!" the driver yelled, eyes bloodshot.
Ignis sneered. He'd seen this kind of tactic before—and he wasn't fool enough to trade blows with a ten-ton machine.
The enemy's autocannons raked his armor in vain—a useless struggle.
As the massive vehicle barreled toward him, Ignis sidestepped at the last second, slamming his fist into its flank.
The Flamestorm Gauntlet roared to life—Vehicle Four became a blazing furnace. The crew tried to escape, but the moment they opened the hatch, the flames devoured them.
The last remaining Vehicle Two tried to reverse, but Ignis would not let it flee. He ripped the cannon and part of the loading system from the wrecked Vehicle Four and hurled them like a missile.
Vehicle Two wasn't so lucky—struck dead-on, it exploded, ammunition detonating in a violent chain reaction.
Ignis scanned the battlefield with his Fire-Sight. No life signs remained.
The slaughter had quelled much of his rage, his turbulent emotions easing into calm.
A shame, though—his power armor had taken a few scuffs. The armor-piercing rounds had left dents and scratches, marring the finish. He'd have to repair that later.
The Salamander didn't linger among the wreckage, turning back into the tunnel.
From afar, he could see Nicole, Billy, and Anby—but Pearlman and Nekomata were missing.
"What's going on? Where are Nekomata and that damned dwarf?" Ignis demanded.
"Nekomata locked us in the cabin and took Pearlman to negotiate with Vision," Belle said through Eous's voice. "They've already entered the Hollow."
"Negotiate?" The Salamander frowned. "If they wanted to negotiate, things wouldn't have gone this far."
"Nekomata came clean," Billy sighed. "She used to be part of the Red Fang Gang. The relic she was after was a pendant—one with a photo of her and Silver. She found it during the chaos."
"Her original plan was to lure us into Dead End Hollow—to wipe us out as revenge for Silver," Anby explained calmly. "But after learning about Vision's scheme and seeing how we risked everything to save a child, she abandoned her revenge. Silver had also succumbed to Ether corruption, so Nekomata gave up on vengeance."
"So, she came looking for revenge after all." The Salamander exhaled and turned to Nicole. "Boss, what's our move?"
"They'll never agree to negotiations," Nicole said. "But the tracks are destroyed—we can't use the train to evacuate the residents. And without Ether Aptitude, they can't cross the Hollow on their own."
Nicole grew increasingly agitated, running her hands through her hair until her twin tails were a mess.
"If only there were a way to grant everyone Ether Aptitude, even for a moment!"
"Nicole, there is a way—but it's dangerous," Belle spoke up.
"How?" Ignis's interest piqued immediately.
"The direct distance from Canvas Street to New Eridu isn't far," said the Proxy. "But the expansion of Dead End Hollow has cut it off. If we can shrink the Hollow's size, we can reopen the blocked path—the residents could walk out themselves."
"Yeah! That could work!" Billy perked up. "We're good at dealing with Ethereals!"
"But to make the Hollow shrink significantly, we'd have to eliminate about three thousand Ethereals—like the ones we've fought before," Anby calculated, stating the grim figure.
"Three thousand?" Ignis didn't think the killing itself was hard—just finding that many wasn't easy. "They're not exactly lining up to die."
"However, under certain conditions," Belle continued, Eous's gaze sweeping over them, "some large Ethereals can reach an Ether activity level equivalent to several thousand standard ones. You know what I mean—the namesake of Dead End Hollow: the Dead End Butcher."
"That thing's huge… in every sense…" Billy's voice quivered. "If we mess up, I'll never see Monica again!"
You wouldn't see her anyway, since Nicole didn't pay the holo-TV bill.
Ignis suppressed the urge to comment. "Can our firepower even take it down?"
"I doubt it," Belle admitted honestly. "But Vision did deliver us a little gift—tons of Ether explosives, self-service style."
"I see…" Nicole understood the Proxy's plan. "It's reckless—but perfect for the Dead End Butcher. We're out of time. We'll save Nekomata, and the people of Canvas Street. Get ready—we're moving out."