The factory was ablaze from the helicopter explosion and the chaos. Ryk stood at the cliff of the terrace, then climbed down using a rusted pipe fixed to the wall. He walked through the workers who thought they were free now — but they weren't. Because of the chaos and destruction, more soldiers were on their way. Still, everyone started cheering for Ryk.
"Stop the crap!" Ryk yelled. "Y'all are just a bunch of dependent slaves! The whole world is—" he shouted.
"Ryk, please don't be mad. Now we're not slaves anymore. We'll fight with you, you know," said Yori, a worker who had been with Ryk since childhood.
Ryk chuckled faintly while still bleeding. "Fight? Now y'all want to fight…" he said calmly, staring at the ground with a disappointed expression. "I got shot. I got beaten up. I lived in chaos my whole childhood. They took my mother away from me. I was nothing but a weak kid… even afraid of my own shadow. You didn't even try to support me—back then or now. Just standing there watching me fight a battalion of soldiers for a bunch of dependent slaves?" Ryk's voice hardened. "How arrogant you are."
The factory behind them kept collapsing and burning. Yori kept his hand on Ryk's shoulder. Ryk forcefully threw it off. "Take that damn hand off my shoulder! If anyone here thinks I'm fighting for them… just walk away. I'm fighting for my mother. I made a promise to her on her deathbed, and these motherfuckers took her away from me. You stood there like your tongues were cut and your hands decapitated," Ryk spat. "None of you could even raise a voice. You're goddamn dependent slaves and nothing else."
All the workers listened with their heads down, regret on their faces. Ryk started walking away with an 'I-don't-care' look. He pushed through the crowd, disappointed.
"But they will crush you!" Yori screamed after him.
"Even death can't stop me from taking my revenge," Ryk replied, turning to look at Yori. The other workers and Yori saw a small glowing spark in his eyes. Ryk turned back to face ahead and kept walking with his hands in his pockets. He closed his eyes for a second and imagined his mother. Suddenly, a circular, fiery structure flashed in front of his vision for a few milliseconds. He heard the sirens of approaching soldier vehicles and stopped. He was only twenty to thirty meters away from the other workers. He turned his head back and said, "Run."
Yori saw him and shouted, "Everyone! Run toward the massive zip-line for metal containers! Now!" The workers ran into the rain, which had started pouring heavily. They made it about a hundred meters, but it was too late. Soldier vehicles arrived and soldiers opened fire. Two men fell dead. A woman carrying her child was shot; the child slipped from her back onto the slippery, muddy ground and tried to crawl back.
Soldiers exited the vehicles and approached the woman and child. A lieutenant stepped forward, aimed his pistol at the woman. The child begged, "No… please…"
A large metal pole suddenly flew through the air and pierced the engine of a soldier vehicle. The vehicle exploded behind the lieutenant, throwing him away from the woman and child. The soldiers chasing the workers turned back when they saw Ryk attacking the lieutenant.
"Soldiers! Charge the subject harming the lieutenant!" ordered a senior soldier.
Ryk had ripped off the burning vehicle's gate and moved toward the lieutenant, who staggered back injured. Ryk bashed the gate over his head until the lieutenant was knocked out. He then placed the gate across the lieutenant's neck and gave him a furious look. "Never try to kill an innocent woman in front of her child," Ryk said, and drove the sharp edge through the lieutenant's neck, slicing it clean.
The running soldiers froze, weapons trained on Ryk. He stood in front of the woman and child to shield them. Suddenly soldiers behind him were shot — Yori and several muscular workers had opened fire with guns taken from fallen soldiers. Yori ran to the mother and child, scooped them up, and shouted, "'Til next time, my friend!" He and the workers ran to the zip-line and escaped. Ryk simply shook his head, proud. Both he and Yori wore the same proud expression.
Fifty-plus soldiers gathered around Ryk, surrounding him and aiming. Yori, riding the zip-line downhill with the other workers, reached safety; they had killed pursuing soldiers with their bare hands. They worked metal all day and had arms of steel. Yori declared, "We ain't slaves now… no one is… and Ryk is not alone anymore." The workers put their fists to their chests and cheered, "For humanity!"
Ryk put his hands behind his head. One soldier thought arresting him would be easy, but stones and even boulders rained down — they were near a large stone and granite processing unit. Some soldiers opened fire; Ryk had a chance to flee, but one shot hit a man inside the factory. Ryk saw it and charged the shooter, breaking his helmet with a punch. He grabbed the gun that fell from the soldier's hand.
Time seemed to slow. When Ryk turned his head, an RPG round passed almost a foot from his ear. For a few seconds the circular, fiery structure appeared again, this time longer — about two seconds. A dragon-shaped beam of fire flashed through him. In that instant he glimpsed a horrible realm. When he opened his eyes, a strange aura from his heart destroyed the missile. He was bleeding, but the explosion caused little damage.
Rage surged through him. His eyes glowed brighter; veins pulsed red across his hands and head. The soldier who had thought the missile would kill Ryk now saw someone charging him — it was Ryk, who ripped the shooter's eye out, leaving the man howling. Ryk kicked him into the mud, loaded the RPG, and fired it at another soldier. The missile sent the soldier flying into an under-construction factory, demolishing it in seconds.
Ryk picked up a fallen gun and started shooting the soldiers. When the magazine emptied, he threw the gun at a soldier who was about to shoot an old man. Soon workers from the stone and granite plant — men, women, even children — surged out. An army truck outside the factory became their escape; they seized it and some soldier cars and fled to the countryside. Ryk remained alone amid the chaos and fire. He hadn't intended to save anyone; yet many had escaped because of him.
The rage consumed him, sapping his energy and breath. Exhausted, he staggered; suddenly a sniper bullet hit him in the back. He fell. The sniper signaled other groups. Ryk lay barely conscious, mud smearing his face. Among the carnage he noticed a shadow approaching: an old, skinny, bald man with a white left eye, a white beard, and a few brown teeth. He wore a torn black robe and carried a torch. Dead bodies of soldiers and workers lay scattered. The man looked like a maniac, but he wasn't. He pushed a wooden cart to load the bodies.
Soldiers returned in trucks and jeeps with two lieutenants and surrounded Ryk on all sides, guns trained. "Chain him up!" one lieutenant ordered. Two soldiers lifted Ryk carefully. Many sweated at the sight of his bleeding face, but they kept their aim steady. The old man watched as he loaded the bodies and glanced at Ryk's face. "Is it… the end?" he asked with a small smirk. Then he chuckled in a cracked voice.
"Just move outta here, you insane geezer," a lieutenant snapped. The soldiers hesitated for a moment at the old man's words. The lieutenant grabbed Ryk by the neck and sneered, "You'll suffer the most terrifying death in human history." Ryk gave a faint smile. The lieutenant punched him; Ryk went unconscious.
They chained him and loaded him into the vehicle. "To Oblivion Ward prison," the lieutenant ordered the driver. The old man watched them go, laughing as he pushed his cart. "It is…" he said, cracking a grin, "only the beginning."The factory was ablaze from the helicopter explosion and the chaos. Ryk stood at the cliff of the terrace, then climbed down using a rusted pipe fixed to the wall. He walked through the workers who thought they were free now — but they weren't. Because of the chaos and destruction, more soldiers were on their way. Still, everyone started cheering for Ryk.
"Stop the crap!" Ryk yelled. "Y'all are just a bunch of dependent slaves! The whole world is—" he shouted.
"Ryk, please don't be mad. Now we're not slaves anymore. We'll fight with you, you know," said Yori, a worker who had been with Ryk since childhood.
Ryk chuckled faintly while still bleeding. "Fight? Now y'all want to fight…" he said calmly, staring at the ground with a disappointed expression. "I got shot. I got beaten up. I lived in chaos my whole childhood. They took my mother away from me. I was nothing but a weak kid… even afraid of my own shadow. You didn't even try to support me—back then or now. Just standing there watching me fight a battalion of soldiers for a bunch of dependent slaves?" Ryk's voice hardened. "How arrogant you are."
The factory behind them kept collapsing and burning. Yori kept his hand on Ryk's shoulder. Ryk forcefully threw it off. "Take that damn hand off my shoulder! If anyone here thinks I'm fighting for them… just walk away. I'm fighting for my mother. I made a promise to her on her deathbed, and these motherfuckers took her away from me. You stood there like your tongues were cut and your hands decapitated," Ryk spat. "None of you could even raise a voice. You're goddamn dependent slaves and nothing else."
All the workers listened with their heads down, regret on their faces. Ryk started walking away with an 'I-don't-care' look. He pushed through the crowd, disappointed.
"But they will crush you!" Yori screamed after him.
"Even death can't stop me from taking my revenge," Ryk replied, turning to look at Yori. The other workers and Yori saw a small glowing spark in his eyes. Ryk turned back to face ahead and kept walking with his hands in his pockets. He closed his eyes for a second and imagined his mother. Suddenly, a circular, fiery structure flashed in front of his vision for a few milliseconds. He heard the sirens of approaching soldier vehicles and stopped. He was only twenty to thirty meters away from the other workers. He turned his head back and said, "Run."
Yori saw him and shouted, "Everyone! Run toward the massive zip-line for metal containers! Now!" The workers ran into the rain, which had started pouring heavily. They made it about a hundred meters, but it was too late. Soldier vehicles arrived and soldiers opened fire. Two men fell dead. A woman carrying her child was shot; the child slipped from her back onto the slippery, muddy ground and tried to crawl back.
Soldiers exited the vehicles and approached the woman and child. A lieutenant stepped forward, aimed his pistol at the woman. The child begged, "No… please…"
A large metal pole suddenly flew through the air and pierced the engine of a soldier vehicle. The vehicle exploded behind the lieutenant, throwing him away from the woman and child. The soldiers chasing the workers turned back when they saw Ryk attacking the lieutenant.
"Soldiers! Charge the subject harming the lieutenant!" ordered a senior soldier.
Ryk had ripped off the burning vehicle's gate and moved toward the lieutenant, who staggered back injured. Ryk bashed the gate over his head until the lieutenant was knocked out. He then placed the gate across the lieutenant's neck and gave him a furious look. "Never try to kill an innocent woman in front of her child," Ryk said, and drove the sharp edge through the lieutenant's neck, slicing it clean.
The running soldiers froze, weapons trained on Ryk. He stood in front of the woman and child to shield them. Suddenly soldiers behind him were shot — Yori and several muscular workers had opened fire with guns taken from fallen soldiers. Yori ran to the mother and child, scooped them up, and shouted, "'Til next time, my friend!" He and the workers ran to the zip-line and escaped. Ryk simply shook his head, proud. Both he and Yori wore the same proud expression.
Fifty-plus soldiers gathered around Ryk, surrounding him and aiming. Yori, riding the zip-line downhill with the other workers, reached safety; they had killed pursuing soldiers with their bare hands. They worked metal all day and had arms of steel. Yori declared, "We ain't slaves now… no one is… and Ryk is not alone anymore." The workers put their fists to their chests and cheered, "For humanity!"
Ryk put his hands behind his head. One soldier thought arresting him would be easy, but stones and even boulders rained down — they were near a large stone and granite processing unit. Some soldiers opened fire; Ryk had a chance to flee, but one shot hit a man inside the factory. Ryk saw it and charged the shooter, breaking his helmet with a punch. He grabbed the gun that fell from the soldier's hand.
Time seemed to slow. When Ryk turned his head, an RPG round passed almost a foot from his ear. For a few seconds the circular, fiery structure appeared again, this time longer — about two seconds. A dragon-shaped beam of fire flashed through him. In that instant he glimpsed a horrible realm. When he opened his eyes, a strange aura from his heart destroyed the missile. He was bleeding, but the explosion caused little damage.
Rage surged through him. His eyes glowed brighter; veins pulsed red across his hands and head. The soldier who had thought the missile would kill Ryk now saw someone charging him — it was Ryk, who ripped the shooter's eye out, leaving the man howling. Ryk kicked him into the mud, loaded the RPG, and fired it at another soldier. The missile sent the soldier flying into an under-construction factory, demolishing it in seconds.
Ryk picked up a fallen gun and started shooting the soldiers. When the magazine emptied, he threw the gun at a soldier who was about to shoot an old man. Soon workers from the stone and granite plant — men, women, even children — surged out. An army truck outside the factory became their escape; they seized it and some soldier cars and fled to the countryside. Ryk remained alone amid the chaos and fire. He hadn't intended to save anyone; yet many had escaped because of him.
The rage consumed him, sapping his energy and breath. Exhausted, he staggered; suddenly a sniper bullet hit him in the back. He fell. The sniper signaled other groups. Ryk lay barely conscious, mud smearing his face. Among the carnage he noticed a shadow approaching: an old, skinny, bald man with a white left eye, a white beard, and a few brown teeth. He wore a torn black robe and carried a torch. Dead bodies of soldiers and workers lay scattered. The man looked like a maniac, but he wasn't. He pushed a wooden cart to load the bodies.
Soldiers returned in trucks and jeeps with two lieutenants and surrounded Ryk on all sides, guns trained. "Chain him up!" one lieutenant ordered. Two soldiers lifted Ryk carefully. Many sweated at the sight of his bleeding face, but they kept their aim steady. The old man watched as he loaded the bodies and glanced at Ryk's face. "Is it… the end?" he asked with a small smirk. Then he chuckled in a cracked voice.
"Just move outta here, you insane geezer," a lieutenant snapped. The soldiers hesitated for a moment at the old man's words. The lieutenant grabbed Ryk by the neck and sneered, "You'll suffer the most terrifying death in human history." Ryk gave a faint smile. The lieutenant punched him; Ryk went unconscious.
They chained him and loaded him into the vehicle. "To Oblivion Ward prison," the lieutenant ordered the driver. The old man watched them go, laughing as he pushed his cart. "It is…" he said, cracking a grin, "only the beginning."