Shockwaves rippled across the mountain base as the recruits faced the massive Living Machine. The earth cracked beneath their feet, trees splintered into shards, and the very air shook—testament to just how high-level and lethal this battle was.
Sylar drove his fist into the machine's chest with all the strength his body could muster, the impact denting and cracking the corroded metal plates. Yet even damaged, the Luminarch was powerful enough to withstand the blow. He stomped his metallic feet into the ground, anchoring himself to avoid being blasted backward.
Immediately, the Living Machine raised his right hand. The energy core embedded in its palm glowed a sinister green as it prepared to unleash a plasma blast. But just as the energy peaked, a combat knife flashed into view.
Michael slammed his weapon into the metallic wrist, forcing the arm upward. The plasma bolt shot harmlessly into the sky, vaporizing a distant cliff but sparing Sylar.
The Luminarch still had its left arm, however. Though their earlier barrage had damaged his armor and disrupted his internal conduits, the limb retained enough power to deliver a lethal blow. Electricity crackled around his clawed fingers as he swung a fist straight toward Sylar's skull.
"THUNG!"
But the sound of breaking bones never came. Instead, what echoed across the battlefield was the metallic crash of steel meeting steel.
Vorg had intercepted the punch, his forearm stopping the blow long enough for another figure to act. A heartbeat later, Zendo descended from the air, his flying kick slamming into the Luminarch's faceplate and adding the kinetic force needed to finally send the machine rolling backward through shards of stone and debris.
The blow was immense, but the Living Machine rose again almost instantly.
The machine's eyes glowed, not with mechanical light but with something disturbingly close to murderous intent. He lunged toward the group, claws extended. But before it could reach them, three bullets streaked through the air.
They wove perfectly around the recruits, slicing through the chaotic battlefield with surgical precision before embedding themselves in the Luminarch's left shoulder. The upper portion of the arm exploded into fragments, finally crippling the limb.
Sylar, Vorg, Zendo, and Michael all grinned despite their exhaustion. The pressure on them had lessened noticeably. Handing their spare ammunition to Arthur had been an excellent decision; none of them could have executed such flawless shots—not with allies blocking half the angles. But they didn't allow themselves to relax.
The battle was far from over, and the Luminarch still had enough power to kill any one of them with a single misstep.
The eyes of the recruits glowed with determination as they charged. Yet just as they prepared to exploit the Luminarch's momentary weakness, gunfire erupted from the sidelines.
The bullets were clumsy and poorly aimed; though they were intended for the Luminarch, they would have struck the recruits instead if they hadn't reacted instantly.
Sylar and the others twisted their bodies, pushing themselves past their limits to avoid the stray shots. Even then, one bullet grazed Vorg's shoulder, tearing muscle, while another ripped across Sylar's thigh, leaving a bleeding wound.
By the time they reached the Luminarch again, their angle of approach was off, their coordination disrupted. They landed only glancing blows—nowhere near enough to harm the metal monstrosity. Worse, the inadvertent barrage had bought the Luminarch enough time to regather his stance.
Rage flared in the four recruits' eyes as they turned toward the source of the interference. It couldn't be Arthur—his marksmanship was impeccable. Instead, a recruit with brown hair and yellow eyes stumbled into view.
Pierce.
His face was pale as he realized the impact of what he had just done. He had thought this would be his chance; his moment to prove his worth, to show he was superior to the others. But instead of glory, he had only sabotaged the team at the worst possible moment.
Sylar had already disliked him, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to crush Pierce's skull. But they didn't have the luxury of indulging anger. The Luminarch was already advancing.
Sylar blasted forward, meeting the Living Machine head-on. His overwhelming strength clashed against the machine's armored body, holding it in place while Zendo, Vorg, and Michael attacked from the sides. Sylar used his entire body as a battering ram, slamming his shoulder into the Luminarch's torso and forcing it backward before sweeping low and dodging a sweep from the forearm.
Despite the pain in his wounded shoulder, Vorg managed to secure a grip on the Luminarch's functioning right arm before it could strike again, using his full weight and strength to immobilize the limb.
Meanwhile, Michael plunged his combat knife into the bullet holes riddling the Luminarch's armor, widening the damage with brutal efficiency. Zendo kept hammering the machine's head with rapid strikes, blurring his sensors and disrupting his reaction speed.
Sylar rose from his crouched position and unleashed a devastating punch directly into the Luminarch's chest. The metal dented inward, plates bending and snapping under the force. Another blow followed immediately—the machine staggered.
A third should have landed.
But a figure suddenly rushed in.
Pierce again.
His eyes were filled with desperation and a complete lack of impulse control as he blindly hurled himself into the fray, aiming a wild strike at the Luminarch's right shoulder. He didn't consider the positioning of his allies, nor the consequences. His attack slammed into the exact place where Vorg was anchoring the Luminarch's arm, breaking Vorg's balance and sending him stumbling into the machine.
The Luminarch's eyes flared. He seized the opening instantly.
The Living Machine's arm swung like a wrecking ball, sending Vorg flying across the battlefield. Then the machine swept his massive metallic palm to the left. Michael and Zendo managed to dodge the direct blow, but even the shockwave of the swing sent them tumbling and rolling violently across the ground.
After taking care of the recruits on the flank, the Luminarch's burning eyes fixed on the two figures still standing before him, and he charged. Pierce attempted to dodge, but he was too slow. The metallic fist slammed into his chest with a brutal crack, the sound of breaking bones echoing through the battlefield as his body was hurled straight toward Sylar like a ragdoll.
If it had been Vorg, Zendo, or Michael flying toward him, Sylar would have done everything in his power to catch them. But Pierce—reckless, undisciplined Pierce—was a different matter. His disdain for order and disregard for the safety of other soldiers had led directly to this disastrous situation.
Sylar felt no pity. He simply sidestepped and shoved the incoming body aside, letting Pierce roll helplessly across the torn ground.
He had no time to spare for him anyway. The Luminarch's next punch was already descending.
Sylar's eyes flashed, unleashing beams of scorching golden heat that struck the machine's metallic knuckles. The blast slowed the blow—but not enough.
A split second later the fist collided with his head, driving him into the earth with bone-rattling force. The ground cracked beneath him. His skull rang as his brain bounced inside. His vision blurred to fog. Even forming a coherent thought felt impossible.
Through that haze, Sylar could still see the Luminarch raising his remaining hand, the energy core in his palm beginning to pulse. A plasma blast—point-blank.
"Move. Move. Move. Move!" He repeated the command in his mind, but willpower alone could not force a broken body to obey.
Just as the energy spike reached its peak, a shadow leapt into view.
Arthur.
The young sharpshooter lunged forward, dropping to one knee beside Sylar, and fired the last bullet remaining in his gun. The shot flew straight into the center of the Luminarch's exposed palm-core.
The energy that was moments from release suddenly had nowhere to escape.
What followed was inevitable.
"BOOOM!"
The Luminarch's right hand and forearm exploded in a storm of molten metal and shattered circuits. The blast hurled Arthur, Sylar, and the machine in opposite directions.
Sylar tumbled through the air, senses spinning, but the shock managed to snap his mind back into focus. By the time he hit the ground, clarity had returned to his eyes. Determination blazed through every nerve.
His power surged like a detonating star. In the next heartbeat, he launched forward, leaving a crater where his feet had been. He struck the Luminarch midair before it could recover, tackling the mechanical titan and slamming it into the side of the mountain. The collision shook the entire slope.
Before the machine could process the abrupt reversal, Sylar ripped a metal plate open. His fingers closed around the backpack still strapped to his shoulders.
With the last of his strength, Sylar shoved the pack deep into the exposed cavity of the Luminarch's energy nucleus. Then he kicked off the machine and launched himself upward, rising more than two hundred meters (218 yd) through sheer explosive force.
And then—
"BOOOOOOOOOOM!"
All three grenades detonated at once. The Luminarch's chest erupted in a fireball, his core shredded, his armor blown apart. The machine's body collapsed, lifeless at last.
A message flickered across Sylar's vision.
[You have reached Level 30]
He couldn't help but smile—thrill, relief, and triumph mixing together as he plummeted back toward the ground. He hit the earth hard, rolling through dust and broken stone. Everything hurt—his head throbbed, his breath came ragged, and every muscle screamed—but victory pulsed warm and fierce through his heart.
A few seconds later, Vorg, Zendo, Michael, and Arthur arrived at the base of the mountain. When they saw the shattered corpse of the Luminarch lying in a crater, their exhaustion vanished, replaced by radiant, incredulous joy.
"We did it!" Zendo shouted, unable to contain himself. The pride and exhilaration in his voice mirrored the hearts of the others.
They didn't have official confirmation yet, but they all knew: this Luminarch had been a Grade 2 lifeform. For a team of young recruits to take down such an enemy—it was an achievement beyond measure.
While Sylar and the others celebrated, none of them noticed what was happening to Pierce.
The strike from the Luminarch had shattered his ribcage. He lay half-buried in the dirt, each breath shallow and wet. The light in his eyes flickered, fading by the second.
And then—he heard it.
A voice. Smooth. Warm. Seductive. A voice that embodied everything he desired. A voice promising release from pain, from fear, from insignificance. A voice offering bliss.
"My child… my love.
Accept my power.
Accept Paradise…"