The cockrupines' evolution was fast. Too fast to ignore, but not fast enough to end things immediately. Reever only needed to stall for thirty seconds. Thirty seconds until his armor came back online and locked itself over his body again. The problem was simple. He did not know whether those thirty seconds would be given freely or torn from him piece by piece.
His first instinct was to retreat.
Then he rejected it.
Turning his back to this many enemies was suicide. Worse, it would expose him to the king. The king had not moved yet, and that alone made it dangerous. From his experience during the training match against the boerrhanas, kings never rushed. They observed, calculated, and struck when escape was no longer possible.
Kings were not just stronger versions of their kind. They were weapons.
The boerrhana king had already been an Elite level threat. This cockrupine king felt heavier, denser, more deliberate. Its body was layered with weapons grown rather than forged. Every quill looked like it could be fired independently, guided with intent. Reever was certain those quills were not below epic rank. If the king decided to act, this hallway would become a grave.
He tightened his grip on his weapon.
"Aah, goddamn it," he thought. "I asked for this kind of fun the moment I died the first time. So I might as well enjoy it."
He raised both metallic hands and made an exaggerated gesture, curling his fingers toward himself in a clear challenge. Come and get me.
The reaction was immediate.
The cockrupines screeched, the sound sharp and grating, and instead of firing their quills, they charged.
Reever's eyes widened.
"Oh no."
Thousands of bodies surged forward at once. The ground trembled as claws scraped against stone. Their numbers turned the narrow passage into a living wave. If they reached him physically, armor or not, he would be pinned and shredded.
He opened fire.
Bullets tore through the front line, punching clean holes through chitin and muscle. Bodies collapsed and were trampled underfoot by those behind them. This time, the bullets worked better. Far better. Cockrupines fell in clusters, their momentum breaking as gaps formed in the charge.
Hundreds died within seconds.
"That's odd," Reever thought as he continued firing. "They just evolved. This should be harder, not easier."
The answer revealed itself almost immediately.
The charging cockrupines stopped.
All at once.
They froze mid motion, claws digging into the floor. Their heads lowered. Their eyes closed. A golden glow began to leak from between their quills, faint at first, then brighter with every passing second. The air grew heavy, vibrating faintly as if pressure was building inside the hallway itself.
Reever felt it in his sensors.
"Ten seconds remaining," he muttered, glancing at the timer.
The cockrupines did not hesitate again.
Their quills lit up fully, turning a harsh gold, and detached from their bodies in a single synchronized motion. The moment the quills left, the cockrupines shriveled, their bodies drying and collapsing like empty shells. They had burned themselves out for one final attack.
But the number of quills suspended in the air was terrifying.
They did not scatter randomly. They aligned, forming dense, layered formations that blocked every possible escape route. Then they turned toward Reever as one.
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
[Armor fully fixed.]
The system notification chimed.
For the first time since entering the hallway, Reever felt relief.
The armor reassembled itself around him instantly, plates locking together like a living machine. The sensation was familiar and grounding, like a second nervous system snapping into place.
Half a second later, the quills hit.
Reever threw himself toward the wall, choosing the angle with the least incoming density. It did not matter much. The quills filled the space completely. There was no air left untouched.
Golden quills slammed into his armor from every direction.
The impact was brutal.
The armor held, but he felt it strain. Force rippled across the suit as it distributed damage, transferring pressure from one plate to another. Dents formed and vanished as the system compensated. Reever was lifted off his feet and smashed into the ground.
If he had been human, the impact alone would have knocked him unconscious. As it was, his vision flickered briefly, systems recalibrating.
The quill storm lasted only seconds.
To Reever, buried under the weight and noise, it felt far longer.
When it finally stopped, the silence was heavy.
He lay still for a moment, confirming internal diagnostics. Structural integrity was reduced but stable. Mobility systems functional. No breach.
Slowly, he began to move.
He pushed quills aside one by one, the metal scraping softly as he freed himself. It took time. The pile was thick, layered high over his body. When he finally surfaced, he paused, scanning the hallway.
Something was wrong.
The cockrupines were gone.
Not retreating. Not hiding.
Gone.
His sensors swept forward and locked onto a massive shape lying motionless ahead. The king. Its golden body was sprawled across the ground, twitching weakly. A clean puncture wound pierced its chest. A silver blade protruded from the opening, buried deep.
The king had not even fought.
Reever stared.
"That's… scary," he thought.
He scanned the area again, widening his perception range. Movement registered briefly near the fallen body. A figure stepped into view.
A young man.
He wore a full body formal suit, the kind used for ceremonies and events, completely out of place in this battlefield. The fabric was pristine except for the blade in his hand. He shook it once, flicking green blood from the edge with a casual motion.
The man did not look at Reever.
Or perhaps he did, and chose not to acknowledge him.
He crouched, picked up the bluish power cores scattered near the king, and slid them beneath the massive corpse, hiding them efficiently. Then he stood, turned, and ran, disappearing down a side passage without hesitation.
No hesitation. No second glance.
"A legacy descendant," Reever concluded quietly.
He waited several seconds before moving.
When nothing else happened, he stepped fully out of the quill pile and approached the dead king cautiously. The body was still warm, systems failing, life fading rapidly. The blade remained embedded, humming faintly with residual energy.
Reever stopped beside it, eyes fixed on the concealed cores.
This mission had just become more complicated.
And for once, not because of the system.