Two fearsome warriors stepped slowly toward John Redfield. Anby raised her blood-soaked chainsword and pressed it against his neck.
"Now," Ignis said coldly, shaking the plasma off his gauntlet before slapping John's hat from his head, "are you ready to hand over the seal, Little Red Riding Hood? Things didn't have to come to this."
"You… you're both lunatics." Little Red's voice trembled. "Ironhammer Security won't let you get away with this."
Ignis gave Anby a sharp look. The girl reached into John's pocket and pulled out the seal. After confirming the engraving was correct, she nodded at him.
"Are you still trying to threaten us?" Ignis's voice carried a faint, humorless laugh. "Your men are already dead because of your stupidity. What else could you possibly use to threaten me?"
"You'll see! It's coming soon!" Little Red suddenly shouted, his face contorting. "That thing will crush us all!"
Outside the stadium, a large cargo truck reinforced against corrosion sat idling. The Ironhammer Security insignia gleamed faintly on its container. As the hydraulic arms hissed to life, the container door began to open—slowly, too slowly for whatever was inside.
A massive metal fist burst through the door, shattering it completely, and a towering figure stepped out from within.
It was a Typhon Slugger Autonomous Tactical Unit, a steel behemoth over four meters tall. Built for close combat, it carried no ranged weaponry—every ounce of its design devoted to reinforcing its Ether-powered kinetic armor. Its primary plating was black, with silver lining glinting faintly under the floodlights. The cognitive core was buried deep beneath layers of dense, inert Ether-alloy plating in its chest.
Though it walked on two legs, each foot was reinforced with rear-mounted wheels. Combined with its massive Ether-fueled reactor, the machine could accelerate faster than most armored carriers.
Impact, crush, strike. The Typhon's attacks were brutally simple, yet devastatingly effective. Even large-scale Ethereals could barely withstand a few of its blows.
This particular Typhon was infamous. It had once encountered a powerful Ethereal in a Hollow. Its entire accompanying squad was annihilated, but under autonomous control, the mech dismembered the creature by itself. Afterward, corrupted by Ether exposure, its cognitive core turned violently hostile—killing multiple recovery personnel before being forcibly shut down through remote override.
Since that day, it was never deployed again. Every reboot test revealed an unshakable hatred for living beings. Yet, because of its unrivaled combat capability and its symbolic importance as Ironhammer's showcase weapon, it was kept operational. Procuring a new Typhon required a fortune—and far better connections.
When the employer of this operation paid handsomely, Ironhammer brought the Typhon along just to "show off." None expected it would actually be used.
Now, as its cognitive core reactivated, the crimson indicator on its chest began to flash erratically—something about the glow seemed deranged.
It turned toward the source of the activation signal. Its rear wheels locked into place with a hiss. Then, with a grinding roar, the steel titan charged—directly toward the stadium's outer wall.
Ignis seized Ironhammer's last surviving squad leader by the collar, his grip tightening until Little Red's face turned blue. "Tell me—what the hell is that thing?"
He could already hear the sound of something massive moving outside.
"Haha!" John Redfield managed a twisted grin. "I'm not telling you anything! Even if you don't kill me, that monster will!"
Before Ignis could respond, the stadium wall exploded inward. The silver-and-black metal giant barreled through, unrelenting, heading straight for Ignis.
"It's here!" John screamed, laughing madly. "You'll be crushed!"
The thing resembled an ancient Dreadnought pattern—but far faster. Its twin fists were rectangular, armored black with thick hydraulic conduits running along its arms. The left fist bristled with sharp spikes arcing with electricity, capable of discharging lethal voltage on impact. The right fist ended in a rotating drum mechanism linked to a massive metallic drill—clearly an explosive-propelled siege tool.
As it charged, the drill extended, like a knight of old lowering his lance for a killing charge.
Anby sidestepped the attack path, revving her chainsword as she looked for an opening.
Ignis hurled the cackling John toward the monster. The Typhon's drill impaled him clean through, hanging his limp body on the weapon. Ignis felt the mech's crimson chestlight fix on him—it wasn't mechanical precision anymore, but hatred.
Twenty meters. Ten. Five. Three. The giant closed in. The dying John still clung to life, deliriously eager to see Ignis crushed beneath the steel colossus.
Ignis knew that against a machine like this, only dodging at the last second mattered. Anything earlier, and its mechanical precision would compensate.
The bloodstained drill filled his visor. The HUD screamed red warnings. He ignored them. Calm settled over him—a cold, unnatural peace. The beast before him no longer felt like a threat.
The Typhon struck. Its elbow pistons flared, driving the drill straight at Ignis's chest.
Ignis pivoted sharply, pushing off the spinning drill with both hands to hurl himself clear.
Landing firmly, he countered immediately. His left foot slid forward, power gauntlets locking into Disruption Field Mode. Two heavy bangs echoed as both fists crashed into the mech's right arm.
The impact staggered the Typhon, forcing it to anchor the drill into the ground and pivot on it, spinning back into balance.
Ignis's blows had left deep dents in its armor, though the kinetic field had been partially deflected—a shield generator, maybe.
The mech tilted its right arm toward its chest, as if inspecting the damage, confused that something smaller could hit so hard.
Enraged, it flung the corpse from its drill and charged again.
Anby tried leaping onto its back, aiming to cut its hydraulic conduits, but her overstimulated muscles—still damaged by electric shock—refused to obey. No matter how hard she pushed, she couldn't keep up with its speed.
Ignis steadied himself. This beast's sheer power was overwhelming. He couldn't meet it head-on; he needed to fight with precision and discipline.
He trusted in the decades of battle and training from his service in the Chapter.
The Typhon's spiked left fist—crackling with arcs of lightning—swung down. Its core calculated that one hit would flatten or incinerate its foe.
Ignis waited for the motion of its elbow before dodging again—but this time, the Typhon had learned. As the left fist missed, the right arm was already cocked back, drill aimed straight for him.
With a thunderous blast, the right arm fired—a spent shell casing as long as a man's torso clattered to the ground, smoke and debris trailing the rocket-propelled drill.
Ignis threw himself backward, barely avoiding impalement. He didn't counter immediately—watching, learning.
The mech paused, gears whirring. A brief window. Ignis lunged forward, both fists hammering at the feed mechanism of the drill arm. That explosive-driven weapon was too dangerous—it had to go first.
But even that system was armored. The Disruption Field couldn't penetrate, and his strikes only left deeper dents—no disabling damage.
The Typhon tore its drill arm from the ground, ripping up chunks of concrete, then swung the debris like a massive hammer.
Ignis leapt back again, unwilling to find out how it felt to be hit by that.
The mech smashed the concrete to dust with its left fist and pressed forward, relentless.
Its fists fell like thunder. The Typhon's cognitive core began analyzing his evasive patterns, adjusting its attacks to intercept his dodges.
Ignis realized grimly—it was learning.
Dodging alone wouldn't work. If he didn't disrupt it soon, the machine would adapt completely.
He feinted left, then slammed his right gauntlet into the drill's telescoping mechanism. Sparks burst; his arm went numb.
But the strike worked—the mechanism jammed.
The Typhon froze momentarily, its systems recalibrating, unable to comprehend how something smaller had damaged it by hand.
Its left fist swung again. Ignis twisted aside, delivering a crushing hook to its elbow joint.
The mech jerked backward—the first sign of retreat. Its wheels screeched in reverse as his punch landed, denting the armor over its joint.
He noted the pattern—its joints were lightly armored for mobility. That was the weakness.
But he'd forgotten one thing: a mech's joints rotate 360 degrees. Including the torso.
The Typhon spun like a top, its upper body whirling toward him like a wrecking ball.
Ignis froze for half a heartbeat—you've got to be kidding me.
He turned and ran.
But wheels are faster than legs. He barely dodged aside, rolling clumsily across the debris-strewn floor.
He hadn't seen such a maneuver since an old Dreadnought in his Chapter had been surrounded by Tyranid swarms—when that veteran had spun himself into a whirlwind of fury.
Ignis scrambled to his feet. In the distance, he spotted Kevin and Anyu; Kevin looked pale, barely standing.
The Typhon's waist servos screeched—it had overstrained itself spinning.
Good. It was slowing down.
He needed to finish this fast—before the client mutated from Ether exposure. No payment if they died.
Pushing aside the image of Nicole's inevitable fury, Ignis charged.
The mech swung its damaged right arm—the system reported the drill malfunctioning, but one last explosive launch remained possible.
It raised the arm, preparing to fire at point-blank range.
The round chambered. Ignis closed in.
A roar of Ether explosives thundered—the drill misfired. Ignis's earlier blows had bent the launch channel. The drill jammed.
The trapped gas backfired. The next round detonated inside the arm.
A violent explosion tore the Typhon's right fist clean off. Ammunition cooked off in a chain reaction.
The shockwave nearly toppled the mech. It steadied itself, trying to strike with its remaining arm.
At that moment, Anby struck.
She sprinted forward, vaulted onto its back, and climbed to the left elbow joint. The chainsword bit deep into the unreinforced plating, grinding through metal until it pierced the conduit beneath.
Feeling the blade connect, she triggered her power pack—high-voltage current surged through the mech, frying its internal circuits.
Now both arms were ruined. The Typhon tried spinning again to throw her off—but Ignis moved first.
He caught the falling Anby, set her down, then wrapped his arms around the mech's waist and pushed.
The two titans wrestled. With a roar, Ignis drove it backward, smashing through the spectator stands. The mech toppled amidst rubble.
Ignis leapt onto its back, gauntlets flaring with blue arcs. He hammered down mercilessly until the chest plating vaporized, revealing the exposed cognitive core.
He reached in, yanked out the glowing red sphere, and hurled it to the ground—then crushed it beneath his boot.
The machine went still.
Ignis exhaled heavily, exhaustion washing over him. He'd been fighting since entering the Hollow, and even for a Space Marine, the Ether saturation was draining.
Still… it was over. Time to go home.
Scanning the darkened ruin with Fire-Sight, he spotted something under a support pillar—a small electronic screen displaying [1:00], connected by wires to a yellow-and-black striped box.
"This… isn't a bomb, right?" He felt a chill crawl down his spine. Looking around, he saw identical devices under every pillar.
Damn it—it's a bomb. And worse, the timer had already started.
Cold panic hit him. They planned this… whoever wanted the seal is ready to bury us with it.
Ignis sprinted toward the exit, grabbing Anby—who tried to speak—and shouting at Kevin and Anyu:
"Run! The whole stadium's rigged—it's gonna blow!"
Anyu turned immediately, hauling Kevin along, but the man was too weak to move. Ignis reached them, scooping both up as he barreled forward.
They barely made it outside when the explosion erupted.
The shockwave flung them into the air. Ignis shielded the others with his armored body as they hit the ground, rolling through the dirt.