After annihilating the Apostles, the cloaked entity turned toward the terrified townspeople. The crimson light in its eyes dimmed, its aura shifting from one of hatred to discipline and purpose.
For the first time, the survivors felt a fragile spark of hope ignite within their hearts. Perhaps these machines that had fallen from the sky were not harbingers of destruction, but saviors, divine weapons sent to deliver humanity from damnation.
"Save them," the entity commanded.
The seven massive robots obeyed instantly, their glowing optics flaring as they turned toward the trembling citizens. Smiles flickered on human faces, tears of relief streaming down cheeks dirtied by soot and fear. But the hope lasted only seconds.
Without hesitation, the machines raised their weapons and unleashed volleys of shimmering silver beams. At first, nothing seemed to happen, only the faint hum of the strange light. Then came the horror.
Their skin began to crystallize. It started from the points of impact, spreading outward in glittering webs of obsidian crystal. Flesh hardened, muscles locked, and bones dissolved into translucent black glass. Within moments, only their nervous systems remained, encased in perfect crystalline shells.
The screams multiplied, echoing through the streets. Parents tried to shield their children, but the beams found them all. In less than ten seconds, every man, woman, and child had been "saved", transformed into dark crystalline statues.
Then the statues began to fold.
Each figure collapsed inward on itself, bones and nerves compacting until what remained were smooth, fist-sized cubes of black crystal. One by one, they floated upward, rising silently into the air before vanishing into the obsidian orbs still suspended in the sky.
The cloaked machine's words had not been a metaphor.
When it had said save them, it meant it in the most literal sense, archiving their minds as one would save data on a drive.
There was no pity in its glowing eyes, no trace of empathy or sorrow. Only purpose. What it had done was, to it, sacred.
"Clean the area," the entity ordered, its voice steady. "Save as many humans as possible. Eliminate the corrupted and infected. I will deal with the strongest."
The seven automatons nodded in perfect unison and dispersed, moving with mechanical grace toward the outskirts of the burning town. The cloaked figure turned its gaze toward the horizon, its sensors detecting a massive surge of bioenergy, something powerful, something alive.
Then it vanished.
---
Hours passed.
Sylar lay on his back atop the rooftop, his breath finally steadying. His body had recovered enough for movement, his strength slowly returning. For the first time in hours, he allowed himself a faint smile. The silence around him felt almost peaceful, until he realized what was wrong.
It was too quiet.
His eyes snapped open. The howls of the Thralls were gone. Not reduced, not distant, gone entirely. He crept to the roof's edge and peered down. The creatures that filled the streets stood motionless, their bodies twitching as though frozen mid-movement.
A chill ran through him.
Then, without warning, their jaws split open, so wide their bones cracked, cheeks tearing apart. From their mouths, eyes, and ears erupted masses of red fungal tendrils, writhing and intertwining. One by one, the tendrils fused, merging into a single monstrous column of biomass that forced its way into the body of one of the Thralls.
The transformation began instantly.
[Quest #002: Escape from the Thralls of the Myceliarchy
Missing Grade: +4
Status: COMPLETED
Reward: 4000 XP]
[You have reached Level 10 — 10 Free Points Available]
[You have reached Level 11 — 10 Free Points Available]
Sylar barely had time to read the glowing text before his focus was drawn back to the horror below. The fused Thrall was changing. Its body swelled, muscles expanding grotesquely beneath its skin. Veins pulsed with unnatural light. Steam hissed from its pores as if its flesh could barely contain the bio-energy burning within.
When the metamorphosis ended, a towering humanoid stood where the Thralls had been. Its skin had turned a deep, bloody red, and a single glowing crimson eye blazed in the center of its forehead. Despite its monstrous form, Sylar felt something new radiating from it: intelligence.
[Quest #003: Eliminate the Symbiarch of the Myceliarchy
Missing Grade: 3
Reward: Evolution to Rank 1 – 7000 XP
Status: ACTIVE]
Sylar's heart pounded. Rank 1 was the key to unlocking the Vault. But one look at the creature below told him the truth; it was far beyond anything he could handle in a direct fight.
He didn't have time to think.
The Symbiarch's roar shattered the silence, its voice a thunderous bellow that rippled through the air. A second later, the building trembled as the monster began to shatter the ceiling and climb.
"All to Agility!" he commanded mentally.
Power surged through his body. The world slowed. Sylar's movements blurred as he leapt from the rooftop, landing in a roll across the neighboring mall.
He had barely landed when a shadow appeared above him. Using his enhanced agility, Sylar managed to move to the side, just as the Symbiarch slammed into the ceiling, blasting a hole and falling into the building.
The Symbiarch's sheer mass collapsed entire floors, doing immense structural damage, and making the entire building begin to tumble.
Sylar didn't wait. He jumped again, hitting the street below just as the entire mall came crashing down behind him. He immediately began to run, but through Echolocation, he saw that the rubble heaved and then exploded outward.
The Symbiarch rose from the destruction, unscathed. Seam pouring off its body like smoke from a furnace.
"Not good…" Sylar muttered and ran with even more strength.
He darted through the burning streets, heart pounding, every muscle screaming. He didn't know where to go, only that he needed distance.
Behind him, the ground boomed with every step the Symbiarch took. Buildings trembled. Windows burst from the pressure.
Sylar clenched his fists, his mind racing. Soon, a desperate plan appeared in his mind to lead the monster to the Apostles.
The Thralls had torn two of them apart before; clearly, they weren't allies. If he could draw the Symbiarch into their territory, maybe they'd destroy each other.
The sound of footsteps, each one a thunderous impact, followed, drawing closer with terrifying speed. The monster had locked onto him, and it was clear it would not stop until one of them was dead.
Sylar gritted his teeth and pushed his exhausted body harder, every muscle burning as he forced himself to move faster. His lungs screamed for air, his heart pounded like a drum in his chest, but he didn't dare slow down.
Then, instinct.
His eyes narrowed, and he rolled to the side just as another massive crash erupted beside him.
"BOOM!" The Symbiarch had landed exactly where he'd been a moment earlier, obliterating everything in the landing zone. The impact crater glowed faintly from the heat.
Sylar bolted without looking back. There was no time to think about how close he'd come to being pulverized. He darted into the nearest building, hoping the narrow hallways and heavy concrete might at least slow the creature down.
But nothing could slow the Symbiarch.
Each step it took shattered floors and support beams alike. Walls crumbled as its massive frame burst through them like paper. Still, the broken terrain gave Sylar one advantage: it blocked the creature's line of sight, allowing him to weave through corners, vanish from view, and buy precious seconds.
The scent of dust, ash, and death filled the air. Sylar could feel it closing in again, its presence like a storm behind him, when something new registered through his enhanced cognition.
"Multiple entities… nearby."
He switched to Echolocation, and the data came rushing in. Seven distinct signatures, moving with mechanical precision. They didn't feel like Apostles, but he didn't have time to question it. A split-second later, his instincts screamed again.
He dove forward, just as the Symbiarch crashed through the wall behind him, demolishing the entire floor in one blow. The structure groaned and began to collapse.
Sylar didn't wait. He hurled himself through a window, landing hard on the adjacent street as the building fell apart behind him. The thunder of destruction followed him as he turned a corner and then froze.
Ahead stood the seven figures.
They were tall, uniform, and unmistakably mechanical. Each was constructed entirely of metal, no flesh, no organic corruption like the Apostles. Their bodies glowed with pulsing lines of red light, their sleek armor polished to a mirror sheen. The air around them buzzed faintly with electromagnetic energy.
In perfect unison, the machines raised their weapons and aimed directly at him.
"Damn it," he muttered, and moved.
Before the first beam was fired, Sylar leapt sideways, rolling behind a rusted car just as a volley of silvery energy cut through the air. He dove into another half-collapsed building for cover, vanishing from their sensors.
The robots advanced in formation, their glowing optics scanning for movement. But before they reached the building, the street beside them erupted.
The Symbiarch emerged from the rubble like a living nightmare, its massive hand slamming down on one of the machines and driving it into the ground with such force that the metal chassis buckled. The pavement cracked beneath the impact.
Instantly, the remaining six turned toward the new threat, their targeting systems locking on. Streams of red plasma filled the air, striking the creature head-on.
"ARRGHHHHH!"
The Symbiarch's roar split the night as the beams burned into its flesh, sizzling and tearing through layers of mutated muscle. But the monster did not fall. It charged through the barrage, grabbed another machine by the torso, and ripped it in half.
Sparks and blood sprayed through the air as the battlefield became a storm of chaos.
Sylar crouched in the shadows, watching from a distance. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from exhaustion, but his mind was clear. This was his chance. It didn't matter which side won; both were far stronger than him, and either would likely kill him afterward. He needed to use their fight to prepare… to survive.
His eyes glowed faintly as he analyzed everything that he had learn on his path. His brain burned with activity, the intense pressure pushing his neural capacity beyond its normal limit.
Finally, a flash of enlightenment crossed his eyes.
[Cognition has increased by 1 point.]
He blinked in surprise. His stats had risen naturally, without assigning any free points. However, there was no time to dwell on it. He slipped out the back of the building, moving silently through the debris-filled alleyways, beginning to form a plan.
---
While Sylar plotted his next move, the night sky above the ruined city ignited.
Four objects entered the atmosphere, glowing like falling stars. Their descent was controlled yet impossibly fast, each one cutting a burning trail across the firmament. Within seconds, they pierced the clouds, their angular silhouettes becoming clear, dropships, or perhaps escape pods, their surfaces sheathed in black metal that shimmered with violet heat.
They slammed into the earth with deafening thunder. Shockwaves rippled outward, flattening the surrounding wreckage. Dust billowed into the air as the ground cracked open from the impact.
For a long moment, all was still. Then, with a hydraulic hiss, three of the pods opened.
Colossal figures stepped out. Each stood over two and a half meters tall (8'2''), clad in dark, segmented armor that glowed with faint crimson veins of energy. Their design was both elegant and terrifying, anatomically human, yet built for war. Every motion radiated purpose.
Their eyes glowed a cold, steady red.
The noise of their landing had drawn attention. From the shadows of the ruined streets, an immense horde of Thralls that measured in the thousands, sprinting toward the crash site in a wave of shrieking madness.
But the armored beings did not move. They stood calmly, assessing. One of them turned toward the fourth pod, which had not yet opened. The impact seemed to have damaged its mechanisms; the hatch remained sealed.
Then, without warning, an explosion burst from within.
The pod's reinforced gate, several tons of solid metal, was blasted off its hinges and sent hurtling through the air, crushing a dozen Thralls in its path. A blinding red light flooded from the interior.
When it dimmed, the final warrior stepped out.
His armor matched the others, black and red, sleek and angular, but his helmet was missing, revealing a human face framed by short silver hair. His eyes glowed with an orange luminescence, and a half-mask covered his mouth and nose, the filters hissing softly with each breath.
A moment later, his helmet materialized, sealing over his head in a seamless transformation. The faceplate was demonic in design, jagged, horned, and terrifyingly beautiful, with twin crimson lenses burning like molten fire.
"For the Kingdom of Man." His voice carried like thunder, calm, deep, and absolute.
The kind of voice that could inspire armies… or make gods tremble.