Chương 147: 146: Control III

Across the avenue, explosive drones swarmed above the battlefield, darting between buildings before diving toward clusters of nightmares. They detonated among the creatures, tearing them apart and scattering fragments across the pavement. Another Stepper swung a massive sledgehammer. The weapon's head glowed with contained Apis energy. He brought it down. CRACK! The pavement ruptured beneath the impact as three nightmares were crushed beneath the strike. The Stepper lifted the hammer and laughed.

"Who's next?" A pair of nightmares lunged at him. He met them head-on. Another Stepper rushed past, wielding twin blades that hummed with concentrated Apis. She ducked beneath snapping jaws and carved through the creature's elongated body, spinning into a second strike that severed another nightmare cleanly. The yellow creatures answered with violence of their own. Electricity erupted from their bodies, blue-white arcs leaping between them as they coordinated their attacks.

Three creatures converged on a Stepper from different directions. He fired upward. A grenade launched from his shoulder-mounted weapon exploded above him, releasing a concussive blast that knocked two creatures from the air. The third struck him in the chest. He went through a wall. Concrete collapsed around him. The nightmare lunged into the opening. A red-armoured fist burst through the rubble. The Stepper grabbed the creature by the throat and dragged it into the street.

"Thought you had me." He slammed it into the ground. Another yellow nightmare struck a second Stepper from behind, claws tearing across his armour and sending him tumbling through a wrecked vehicle. The machine rolled onto its back. The Stepper pushed himself upright. His armour was scratched and smoking. He looked down at the damage.

"Okay." He raised his weapon.

"That was rude." He fired. The blast tore through the nightmare and sent it spiralling into the side of a building. All around them, the Steppers continued advancing. They fought with practised precision, but there was something else in their movements. Enjoyment. They laughed as they fought. They shouted to one another. Some exchanged jokes between kills. One Stepper casually waved at a camera drone hovering above the battlefield before turning around and punching a nightmare through the window of a storefront.

Another pointed toward a massive creature charging down the avenue.

"Mine!" His partner laughed.

"Dream on!" The Stepper launched himself forward. The nightmare opened its jaws. Rows of teeth snapped together. The Stepper drove both fists into its face. The creature's head exploded into black smoke. He landed, rolled across the pavement and immediately got back to his feet. Shamira stared through the window, stunned by the sheer confidence of them. These people weren't afraid. They weren't hesitating. They had arrived in the middle of hell and were treating it like a battlefield they had been waiting to enter.

And then she saw him. Her boyfriend. He landed on the roof of a burning building, grey-and-crimson armour reflecting the fires below. A compact rifle rested against his shoulder, while two curved blades were secured along his back. He looked toward the streets. A nightmare burst through the smoke behind him. He turned. Their eyes met. The creature lunged. He smiled.

"Hey, Shami." He jumped. He crashed into a nightmare just outside the apartment, his armoured form slamming into the creature with enough force to send it skidding across the pavement. He planted his boots, twisted with the momentum, and drove his fist straight through its skull. Black smoke erupted from the wound as the creature collapsed. He looked up. He saw her. Even through the visor of his helmet, Shamira could see his grin.

He raised one hand and waved at her, the gesture so casual and cheerful that it seemed almost absurd against the backdrop of burning buildings and screaming nightmares.

"HI, SHAMI!" Shamira stared at him, her mouth hanging open. He winked. Then he turned and sprinted back toward the chaos, his laughter echoing through the ruined street as he charged into another group of nightmares. Shamira pressed both hands against the glass.

"I'm going to kill him," she whispered. Behind her, Rhizome laughed. It was a fragile sound, thin and exhausted, but genuine.

"Astaga," she murmured, her voice carrying a warmth that seemed almost out of place amid the destruction.

"You have to marry him." Shamira turned toward her, eyes wide.

"What?!"

"Ya." A faint smile crossed Rhizome's pale lips.

"That man just crashed into a nightmare to wave at you, and now he is running off to fight more. He is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid." Shamira stared at her.

"Both."

"Both." Rhizome nodded slowly.

"That is exactly the kind of man you marry." A laugh escaped Shamira despite herself, catching in her throat as she turned back toward the window. Outside, her boyfriend tore through another nightmare, driving it into the pavement before spinning toward the next. The battle raged on.... The Steppers continued their advance, their weapons flashing through the smoke as they moved between the burning buildings.

Rifles fired in controlled bursts, Apis-powered blades carved through nightmare flesh, and explosive drones darted overhead before diving into clusters of enemies. The yellow creatures fought hardest. They moved faster than the others, their elongated bodies flashing between buildings as electricity crawled across their flesh. Their attacks forced the Steppers to teleport, dodge and deploy shields constantly, but the soldiers adapted quickly.

Squads formed around the most dangerous creatures, trapping them from multiple directions while other Steppers cut off their escape routes. One Stepper deployed a gravity mine beneath a charging pack. The device activated, dragging three yellow nightmares violently toward its centre until their bodies collapsed into a single mass of crushed flesh. Another Stepper raised a sonic disruptor and fired. The creature staggered as the weapon's vibration tore through its body. Its skull ruptured.

Black smoke poured from the remains. The battlefield became a symphony of destruction, filled with gunfire, explosions, crackling electricity and the shrieks of dying nightmares. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Through it all, the Steppers kept advancing. In the apartment, Shamira watched with her hands pressed against the glass, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope.

Outside, jets continued their patrol over the burning city, their engines roaring through the smoke as more Steppers descended into the battle. Rhizome's bioluminescent spores continued drifting through the open window, carried into the ruined streets and across the battlefield. Her connection to the network remained intact, stretched across Indonesia and locked onto thousands of nightmares fighting beneath her control. She was still holding them. Still fighting.

And Shamira's boyfriend continued to wave at her whenever he passed the window. Sometimes he waved with one hand while firing his weapon with the other. Shamira shook her head, unable to stop herself from smiling.

"I'm going to marry him," she whispered. Rhizome smiled.

"Ya. I think you will." The news channels struggled to keep up. Across Indonesia, broadcasts were switching rapidly between cities, each feed showing the same impossible sight. Soldiers were falling from the sky. Not ordinary soldiers. They wore strange grey-and-crimson armour and carried weapons unlike anything the Indonesian military had ever fielded. They dropped from aircraft, rooftops and the smoke-filled sky itself, landing among the nightmares and tearing through them with frightening efficiency.

A reporter in Jakarta stood behind a barricade, her hair whipping in the hot wind as explosions illuminated the skyline behind her.

"I don't know how else to describe what we are seeing," she said, her voice trembling with disbelief.

"These soldiers have appeared across the city, and they are fighting the creatures." A nightmare screamed somewhere behind her. The reporter flinched but kept speaking.

"We have no confirmed information about who they are. They do not appear to be part of the Indonesian military. Their equipment is unfamiliar, and we have received no official statement identifying them." The camera suddenly swung toward the street. A Stepper dropped from above. BOOM! It landed directly in front of a group of civilians, its armour absorbing the impact as it immediately raised its weapon. Three nightmares came charging through the smoke. The Stepper fired.

The creatures vanished beneath a burst of concentrated energy. The civilians stared. One elderly man slowly lowered the hands he had been holding over his head.

"Siapa mereka?" he whispered. Who are they? The reporter's voice came through the broadcast.

"We are hearing the same question from everyone here." The footage switched to Bandung. A crowd had gathered behind a military checkpoint, watching the Steppers fighting in the distance. A young woman stood among them, tears running down her cheeks.

"They just appeared," she said.

"They came from the sky."

"Do you know who they are?" the reporter asked. She shook her head.

"No." Her voice broke.

"But they're saving us." A man beside her nodded.

"It's a miracle." The reporter turned toward him.

"A miracle?" He pointed toward the battlefield.

"Look at them." A Stepper was visible in the distance, fighting three nightmares at once.

"They're killing the monsters." The camera zoomed in as the Stepper drove one creature into the ground and fired into another. The crowd erupted in cheers. The broadcast switched again. Surabaya. A reporter stood beside a damaged road while military vehicles moved civilians toward an evacuation zone.

"People here are calling them angels," she said.

"Others are calling them saviours. Nobody knows where they came from." The camera showed several Steppers moving through the smoke. One carried a wounded civilian over his shoulder. Another walked beside him, weapon raised as they escorted a group of children toward safety. The children stared at the armoured figures with wide eyes. A little boy pointed.

"Prajurit?" Soldiers? His mother pulled him closer.

"I don't know." The reporter continued.

"The government has not confirmed their identity. Military officials have told us they are attempting to establish communication with the newcomers, but so far, there has been no response." The broadcast changed again. Semarang. A woman stood outside a shelter, surrounded by dozens of displaced civilians.

"We thought we were going to die," she said.

"The creatures were everywhere. We couldn't escape." She wiped her eyes.

"Then those soldiers came down from the sky."

"What did you think when you saw them?" The woman gave a trembling laugh.

"I thought God had sent them." The reporter looked toward the camera.

"Across social media, the unidentified soldiers are already being called the Angels of Jakarta, the Sky Soldiers and the Crimson Guard." The footage shifted to a collection of videos uploaded by civilians. A Stepper dropping between two buildings. Another blasting a nightmare off a rooftop. A squad landing in the middle of an evacuation route. A soldier waving at civilians after destroying a creature. Someone filming from inside a car shouted, "Mereka datang dari langit!" They came from the sky!

Another voice screamed, "Tuhan mengirim bantuan!" God sent help! The footage ended. The broadcast returned to the studio. The anchor sat rigidly behind the desk, clearly struggling to process the situation.

"We have received reports from Jakarta, Bandung, Surabaya, Semarang, Yogyakarta, Medan and Makassar. These armoured soldiers are appearing across multiple cities and are actively engaging the nightmares." A map of Indonesia appeared behind her. Red markers covered the country. One by one, new points appeared. Jakarta. Bandung. Surabaya. Semarang. Yogyakarta. Medan. Makassar. The anchor stared at the map.

"We still do not know where they are coming from." The screen behind her filled with footage of Steppers descending through smoke.

"We do not know who commands them." More footage. A Stepper shielding civilians from an attacking nightmare.

"We do not know what organisation they belong to." Another clip. A Stepper standing on top of a destroyed vehicle, weapon raised as a crowd escaped behind him.

"But wherever they came from…" The anchor's voice softened.

"They are fighting for us." The broadcast switched to a live feed from Jakarta. The camera showed a burning avenue filled with smoke and debris. A group of civilians emerged from a collapsed building. Behind them, a line of Steppers advanced through the street. The crowd began cheering. Someone shouted, "Mereka menyelamatkan kita!" They're saving us! Others joined in.

"Terima kasih!" Thank you! The cheering grew louder. A woman clasped her hands together and looked toward the sky.

"Ini mukjizat." It's a miracle. The camera pulled back. Above the city, more figures descended through the smoke. Another wave of Steppers. The reporter stared upward.

"Oh my God…" The feed remained on the sky as the soldiers fell toward the burning city. Across Indonesia, people watched the same images from shelters, hospitals, homes and evacuation centres. Nobody knew who the Steppers were. Nobody knew where they had come from. Nobody knew why they had chosen to fight. They only knew one thing. The monsters were no longer winning. — NEW YORK. The twelve prototypes had been healed and given time to rest after their previous battle.

Their bodies had recovered, their wounds had sealed, and their strength had returned, yet the memory of Mango's transformation remained fresh enough to haunt them. Even now, they ate the strange fruits she had left behind in Antarctica, their sweetness offering a brief comfort after everything they had endured. For a little while, peace held. They ate in relative silence, some still glancing toward the horizon as though expecting Mango to emerge from the snow at any moment.

No one spoke much about what had happened. They did not need to. The tension in their bodies, their cautious movements, and the lingering unease in their eyes said enough. A tremor passed beneath them. The prototypes stopped eating. Another followed. The ground shifted again, harder this time, and the disturbance did not feel confined to Antarctica. Something was moving beneath the world itself, a disturbance spreading through the earth with no discernible origin. They looked at one another.

The tremors intensified. They felt them everywhere. Across the oceans. Beneath distant cities. Through mountains and fault lines. The entire world seemed to shudder beneath an invisible weight. Whatever had begun was not happening in one place. It was happening everywhere. The twelve prototypes rose into the sky, their bodies cutting through the clouds like streaks of light. Beneath them, the world had become a wound. Smoke rose from cities reduced to rubble.

Fires burned through districts that had once been filled with life. The oceans churned with strange, turbulent currents, and the air itself carried the scent of destruction. Victor Hale flew at the front, his bronze skin gleaming beneath the pale sunlight. His short black curls were windswept, his broad shoulders tense as he surveyed the devastation below.

"This is insane," he muttered.

"The whole world is falling apart." Naomi Eze drifted beside him, her shaved head catching the light, a single braid trailing behind her. Her amber eyes remained fixed on the horizon, her expression grim.

"We knew it was bad," she said.

"But this... this is worse than anything we imagined." Mateo Ruiz shook his head, his crooked nose scrunching in distaste.

"Look at them. People are just... screaming. Running. There's no order. No control."

"They're terrified," Cass Vega said, her gold eyes scanning the chaos.

"They don't know what's happening. They don't know who to trust." Below them, New York stretched along the coastline. The streets were clogged with abandoned vehicles, while people fled in every direction, their faces twisted with fear. Emergency sirens wailed throughout the city, but they sounded almost futile against the scale of the destruction. Miriam Holt pointed toward the skyline.

"Look. Over there." Everyone followed her gaze. A white-haired figure was being blasted through a building. The impact sent glass and debris exploding across the street below. The figure twisted mid-air, his body folding through impossible angles as he avoided the falling rubble. He landed on a nearby rooftop, skidded to a stop, and immediately launched himself back toward the source of the attack. The prototypes stared.

"Is that...?" Elias Mercer began.

"Clock," Gideon Marsh confirmed, his oversized ears twitching.

"Clock Viperlit. The assassin."

"The Antarctic Faction's executioner," Freya Holm said, her icy voice carrying a note of disbelief.

"I've heard stories about him. He's a maniac."

"And he's getting tossed around like a ragdoll," Linh Dao observed, her sharp green eyes narrowing. Roman Volkov let out a low whistle.

"If he's struggling this much, I don't want to know what he's fighting."

"Too late," Selene Armitage said, her grey eyes fixed on the skyline.

"Look." They saw it. Apotheosis. They knew its name without being told, as though the knowledge had been established somewhere deeper than memory, an immutable fact of the universe. The creature was colossal, its crimson-indigo body rippling with power as it moved through the city. Its glassy eyes glowed with a terrible inner light, while its long, jagged limbs carved through buildings as though they were made of paper. Its tail swept across the streets, sending cars and debris flying in every direction.

Korhess was there too. The deer-woman moved with impossible grace, her spear flashing as she wove between Apotheosis's attacks. Her antlers blazed with emerald fire, and her voice remained a constant murmur of Velvethorn incantations.

"Sylv-varai tel-mora... Val-tel miran... Fas-mora vel-thorn..." The words spilled from her lips like a chant, each syllable carrying the weight of her will. She was binding the creature's Apis, forcing the volatile energy to remain contained within its own body rather than leaking into the surrounding world. Without her constant efforts, the energy would have already consumed the city. Her flames never ceased.

They burned around Apotheosis in an endless, smothering embrace, wearing it down bit by bit with every passing second. The prototypes watched in stunned silence.

"Who is that woman?" Linh asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"How do you not know the final obstacle, Experiment A-1? The first ever made."

"For real?"

"Korhess," Elias said, his silver eyes fixed on the deer-woman.

"The First Antler. I've heard stories. They say she's been alive for over fifty years."

"She's holding it back," Naomi breathed.

"She's literally holding it back by herself."

"Look at her," Mateo said, his voice carrying a note of awe.

"She's not just fighting. She's controlling the entire battlefield."

"Those flames," Cass said.

"They never stop. She's constantly draining it, wearing it down."

"By herself."

"While chanting in a language I don't even recognize." Gideon's voice was low, almost reverent.

"That woman could kill every single one of us with a flick of her finger. Be respectful." The other prototypes exchanged glances. None of them argued. Mateo glanced at Korhess again.

"She's half deer. Usually, I'd expect something more monstrous. Her tail's kinda cute, though." Gideon slowly turned toward him.

"Do not test my patience." Mateo raised both hands.

"I'm just saying." Below, Korhess continued her relentless assault. Her spear carved across Apotheosis's hide, drawing a line of glowing fire across its chest. The creature recoiled, its glassy eyes widening as the flames spread across its body.

"Thou art strong," she murmured, her voice carrying a strange, almost affectionate warmth, "but strength alone cannot save thee from the forest's judgment." Apotheosis lunged. Korhess twisted aside, her body flowing around the attack like water around stone. Her spear swept upward, carving another line across its arm.... The clash sent shockwaves rippling across the city. Buildings groaned. Windows shattered. The ground buckled beneath the force of their collision.

High above, a squadron of military jets screamed across the sky, their engines roaring as they approached the battlefield.

"Here they come," Mateo said. The jets opened fire. Missiles streaked toward Apotheosis, their trails of smoke cutting through the air like angry scars. Apotheosis opened its mouth. SKREEEEEEEEE! A sonic scream erupted from its throat, a wave of pure force that rippled through the air. The missiles detonated mid-flight, their explosions swallowed by the sound. The jets themselves buckled, their wings snapping like twigs as the scream tore through them.

One by one, they spiralled toward the ground, their pilots desperately trying to eject before they were consumed by the inferno.

"Damn it," Victor growled.

"Those pilots didn't stand a chance."

"They're not the first," Naomi said quietly.

"And they won't be the last." —