The battle at the foot of the mountain range grew more violent with every passing second. Vorg, Zendo, Michael, and Arthur fought with everything they had, pushing themselves harder and harder, breaking past their limits and displaying a level of combat strength that would have impressed even seasoned warriors.
Yet, despite their effort, despite their resolve, the power of their enemy was simply too overwhelming. Every second that passed, more and more wounds appeared on the recruits, and things only seemed to be going downhill.
Michael lunged at Pierce while the True Apostle was busy striking at the others, his combat knife aimed straight for the back of Pierce's skull. The blade was sharp enough to cut through Grade 3 flesh without resistance—yet as it met Pierce's hide, it barely sank in a few centimeters.
Even though he was exhausted, Michael had attacked with perfect momentum, and the angle of his strike was ideal for piercing, but the dark-pink muscles covering Pierce were monstrously resilient. They did not simply harden like armor—they flexed, shifting subtly to absorb impact and redistribute force, turning his entire body into a bio-fortress capable of resisting both blunt trauma and penetration.
A flash of frustration crossed Michael's eyes as he realized he could not deliver a lethal blow. But his training held firm; he did not let emotion disrupt his battle instincts. He immediately pulled back. His retreat was just fast enough to avoid Pierce's retaliating forearm, but even brushing against the True Apostle's knuckle sent him flying. Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth as he tumbled through the air.
Pierce instantly attempted to capitalize on the opening, launching himself forward with the momentum of a missile. Yet before he could reach the injured Michael, a figure streaked through the air.
Zendoi's flying kick crashed against the side of Pierce's head. Despite Pierce's overwhelming physical power, he lacked the ability to maneuver mid-air, and Zendo's strike hit cleanly.
As the True Apostle fell to the ground, his right arm morphed—lengthening, thickening, stretching—transforming into a massive whip of muscle. It snapped upward like a monstrous tendon and slapped Zendo out of the sky, sending him smashing into the ground.
Pierce landed soon after, rising far too quickly for something his size. His extended arm continued to grow, the hand deforming into a massive hammer, ready to crush Zendo where he lay.
But before the blow fell, two figures crashed into Pierce, one using his metallic body as a battering ram against Pierce's chest, the other shooting in like a bullet and driving a knee into Pierce's face. Vorg and Arthur's combined attack barely managed to stagger him, but it enraged Pierce more than it harmed him.
He clenched his teeth hard enough to crack them. These four, these weak, pathetic recruits, kept getting in his way. They kept throwing their bodies into danger, fighting not for glory or power, but to protect each other. Their courage, their resilience, their willingness to face death for their comrades, each of those things felt like an insult to everything Pierce had become.
"You damn bastards!" the Apostle roared.
He stomped the ground with such force that the earth cratered beneath him, anchoring himself before swinging his massive fist in a sweeping arc. The blow struck both Vorg and Arthur, sending them tumbling across the ground, leaving bloody trails behind them.
Their bodies trembled from pain; their minds were foggy. Yet even bleeding and exhausted, they forced themselves up, twisting their battered limbs into standing positions.
Not even two seconds later, Michael and Zendo reappeared beside them. All four were bruised, bleeding, bones cracked or broken, but none of them stepped back. Their eyes burned with determination. They were prepared to fight until the absolute end.
Pierce's rage deepened. Their willpower was a direct reminder of what he lacked, what he had always lacked. It was easy for him to blame luck, destiny, or circumstance for the path he had taken. To believe that anyone in his situation would have fallen as he did. But deep within, he knew it was a lie.
There were people who didn't rely on excuses. People who changed themselves, who kept moving even when everything ahead seemed like darkness. People who fought not because they were strong, but because they refused to surrender their dignity for cheap pleasure or fleeting power.
"Fine!" Pierce screamed, his voice cracking with hatred. "Be courageous! Be honorable! It means nothing. Honor, brotherhood, friendship, those are lies of the weak! I have transcended those pathetic concepts! I have gained something greater!"
His muscles twisted and expanded grotesquely as he prepared for the final clash.
Vorg, Zendo, Michael, and Arthur glanced at one another. Despite everything, small smiles appeared on their bloodied faces as they clenched their fists. They were not fools; they knew they would not win. But if this battlefield was to become their grave, they would make it a grave worth remembering.
"ARGHHH!" The four youths roared as one, letting adrenaline and resolve ignite inside them like fire, their bodies launching forward with every ounce of strength they had left.
Before they could take two steps forward, the world trembled.
"RUMBLE!"
The ground shook so violently that both the recruits and the True Apostle halted mid-charge, unable to process what was happening. Their eyes snapped toward the shattered mountain. The tremors were coming from deep within it, growing stronger by the second, the rumbling so fierce it was as if a volcano were awakening beneath the earth.
Then the shaking intensified.
Shockwaves burst outward from the mountain, scattering dust and debris. Massive boulders began to lift into the air, defying gravity itself.
Under the stunned gaze of the four young men, the pieces of the broken mountain rose as if pulled by an invisible force. Something inside, something vast and powerful, had awakened.
And it was breaking free.
Then, at the center of that violent burst of power stood a young man. His black hair drifted in the rising winds, and his red eyes glowed with a light that inspired both awe and dread in anyone who dared look at him.
Sylar—buried beneath an entire mountain at the beginning of the battle—was finally free, and somehow he had grown so immensely powerful that he could literally lift fragments of a shattered mountain into the air with nothing but his presence.
Zendo, Vorg, Michael, and Arthur did not fully understand what was happening, but smiles appeared on their exhausted, blood-streaked faces. No matter the cause or the mystery behind it, Sylar had returned to the battlefield, and he was stronger than ever.
Of course, while the four recruits were filled with relief and wild excitement, Pierce felt the exact opposite. The glowing eyes of the True Apostle widened with something he had not experienced since surrendering to the power of Paradise: fear.
Unlike the recruits, Pierce could see it clearly, the dark blue, flame-like aura that wrapped itself around Sylar's entire body. It wasn't simply an energy signature or some strange fusion of electricity and chemical force. It was something deeper, older, something that defied the boundaries of ordinary power. Words failed him.
But soon enough, Pierce crushed that rising terror and confusion, forcing them back into the darkest corners of his mind.
The True Apostle replaced them with hatred, pure, hysterical hatred as he shouted. "Just another sheep coming to—"
Pierce never finished the sentence.
In the blink of an eye, Sylar vanished from the broken mountainside and appeared directly in front of him. The True Apostle had barely registered the movement when he felt a catastrophic pain erupt in his torso.
Sylar's fist buried itself deep into his chest, carrying so much force that Pierce felt his organs twist inside him. A mouthful of blackened blood burst from his throat.
Sylar's eyes were cold, utterly merciless. Without a word, he pulled his left fist free from Pierce's abdomen and swung with his right, smashing it into Pierce's face with enough power to release a concussive shockwave that cracked the earth and sent dust spiraling into the sky.
"BOOM."
Pierce's body shot across the ground like a meteor, carving a deep trench before disappearing in the distance.
Sylar remained silent for a moment, then slowly turned his gaze toward his comrades. The coldness in his eyes faded, replaced by sincere respect and admiration.
"You all did well," Sylar said quietly. "Rest now. I'll take care of the rest."
The exhaustion of the four recruits broke slightly, replaced by relief. Sylar then shifted his attention back toward Pierce's distant impact site, and at that moment, he heard it.
[Quest #009: Kill True Apostle Pierce alone
Mission Grade: –2
Status: ACTIVE
Reward: 45,000 XP]
Sylar allowed himself a small smile. He had already decided to end the abomination; the system's reward was nothing more than icing on the cake. But he didn't allow the distraction to linger.
Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed the power of Logos to its absolute limit. The dark blue aura around him roared, expanding violently and intensifying until it seemed to distort the air itself.
With that power flowing through every muscle fiber, Sylar launched forward at hypersonic speed. He moved so fast that his body ionized the air, leaving trails of fire and glowing heat spiraling behind him.
Zendo, Vorg, Michael, and Arthur watched his figure streak across the battlefield, and each one of them felt the same thought flash across their minds.
"A shooting star."