Sylar drew a deep, steady breath as he emptied his mind. All useless thoughts faded, replaced by a single, sharpened intention.
Kill.
That clarity of purpose ignited the strength of his Logos, the dark-blue aura surging around him with renewed, almost feral intensity.
[Strength increased by 10 points]
Using the last of his Free Points, Sylar stepped forward.
Across from him, Pierce moved as well. His new form was monstrous, but it was the faint clarity in his eyes that alarmed Sylar the most. Whatever transformation the figurine had triggered was not only physical; Pierce's mind and will had been reforged as well.
It was hard to tell if the original Pierce still existed inside that demon-like shell, or if he had been entirely consumed. Not that it mattered. In this moment, there was only one relevant truth: he was more powerful than ever.
With every step they took, the ground beneath them cracked. Dust rose in trembling waves. And when they closed to less than ten meters (10.9 yd) of each other—
They vanished.
A chain of sonic booms erupted like rolling thunder, followed by a shockwave so massive it tore open the earth. Sylar and Pierce collided mid-air, fist slamming into fist, the impact ringing like the clash of titanic steel.
Sylar felt the bones in his hand tremble, the pressure spiderwebbing through his arm. Pierce's strength had climbed to a terrifying level. But Sylar had no time to acknowledge pain. He pushed forward, twisting his hips and launching a precise kick upward.
His foot cracked into Pierce's jaw, hard enough to split a fortress spire in two.
The True Apostle's head snapped back violently. His eyes rolled for a heartbeat, shaken by the brain trauma, but he did not fall. His stance held, anchored to the earth like an unbreakable monolith. Then his fist lashed out, smashing into Sylar's abdomen.
Sylar's breath detonated out of him. Since one leg was still in the air from the kick, Pierce's punch launched him like a projectile. He tore across the ground, carving a trench dozens of meters long through soil and stone.
Pierce didn't hesitate. The towering abomination lunged, covering the distance in a blink.
But as the True Apostle's massive hand reached for Sylar's skull, the young man's eyes flared, and twin golden beams exploded outward. The heat vision burned through Pierce's hand and blasted it away in a cloud of ash and evaporated blood, as nearly half was destroyed.
Logos enhanced every part of Sylar, including his Genetic Abilities. His heat vision wasn't simply stronger; it was lethal.
Pierce stumbled, his focus slipping just long enough for Sylar to roll to his feet and counterattack. His fist, glowing with dark-blue fire, slammed into Pierce's chest. The impact generated a shockwave that split the ground beneath them, driving the True Apostle back as his feet carved deep trenches.
Blood dripped from Pierce's lips due to the internal damage.
Sylar did not waste the opening. He launched forward with incredible momentum, only to freeze as Pierce's warped lips twisted into a grotesque shape as he began to whistle.
Whistling during a life-or-death battle was bizarre, but the effect was immediate. The sound pierced Sylar's ears, and then his mind, and the battlefield dissolved.
He stood in the orphanage back in Arcade.
His grandfather.
His friends.
Joi.
All the faces he had lost stood before him.
Had Sylar still been drowning in grief or shame, the illusion would have swallowed him whole, trapping him in guilt and memory. But he had accepted their deaths. He carried their lessons forward. He honored them by moving on—not by breaking.
His mind rippled. His vision refocused.
And he saw the massive fist already inches from his skull.
Sylar's arm shot up on instinct, protecting his head.
"BOOOOM."
The punch struck with such force that the forest itself trembled. Sylar was launched hundreds of meters, tearing through trees and boulders until his body finally skidded to a halt.
Pierce should have been triumphant, but instead his eyes narrowed with something like frustration. His psychic assault should've crippled Sylar—should have left him motionless for several seconds. Yet Sylar broke free of it almost instantly.
First, he'd demonstrated immunity to the corrupted energy. Now, he showed overwhelming mental fortitude. Two traits no human was meant to possess, especially not one who had yet to become a Shooting Star.
The figurine's eyes embedded in Pierce's skull glowed with deepening malice. Pierce's killing intent sharpened until it became a physical force gnawing at the air as he charged forward.
Sylar could feel him coming, feel the pressure of a veteran Shooting Star-level killer homing in on him. He had protected his skull, but the blow had still rattled his brain violently, inducing a concussion.
Even with his monstrous vitality, he would need a few moments to recover.
Moments he didn't have.
Pierce would not give him any.
But awakening Logos hadn't only raised Sylar's level to 31 and granted him a Mutation Slot. It had also evolved the Nemesis System itself to Rank 2, unlocking new tools, new powers.
Sylar reached for one with a single thought.
The air twisted.
And to Pierce's shock, entities manifested between him and Sylar.
Not illusions. Not projections.
Summons.
Xeno-beasts materialized first—the Alpha V-Rex with its serrated bone plates, the Tendril Predator writhing with barbed cords. But then came others, even more shocking: a Symbiarch, an agent of the Myceliarchy.
Someone controlling a Symbiarch was already beyond shocking, but given the variety of abilities and psychic powers scattered across the galaxy, it wasn't entirely impossible. Summoning one from thin air, however—along with a horde of Grade 3 Xeno Beasts—that was impossible. Reality-defying. And yet, there was no denying what stood before Pierce's eyes.
The figurine's face fused to his skull glowed with increasing intensity, dark pink energy rippling beneath its features. A hunger, almost a predatory desire, burned in its expression, and that twisted impulse pushed Pierce forward.
With killing intent surging through him, the True Apostle exploded into motion. His fist tore straight through the chest of the Symbiarch, obliterating the construct in a single blow. He pivoted instantly, releasing a savage kick that snapped the neck of the massive V-Rex with a crack that echoed like a falling tree.
Before even a heartbeat passed, the Tendril Predator lunged at him, its gnashing jaws closing in, but Pierce caught the creature mid-strike. Muscles bulged, and with a savage wrench, he ripped the Predator's skull in half, spraying the ground with dark ichor.
The power behind those Grade 3 summons was immense; any one of them could raze a town in minutes, but compared to Pierce's newly ascended form, they barely worked as a distraction. One after another, the summoned beasts were reduced to carcasses and dust. In less than ten seconds, nothing remained between Pierce and Sylar.
With the battlefield silent, Pierce lunged straight toward him.
But instead of fear or desperation, Sylar greeted him with something Pierce did not expect. A small smile and an almost triumphant calm.
The young man spoke only two words. "Emergency Fusion."
In the same instant, a pillar of energy erupted around Sylar, its force so overwhelming that even Pierce was shoved backward. The air cracked, the earth split, and a blinding radiance flooded the clearing.
Before Pierce could comprehend what was happening, a cannon-sized blast of green plasma shot out of the swirling energy column. The beam streaked at hypersonic speed and struck Pierce point-blank, sending him flying across the ruined terrain and crashing into a distant formation of stone.
Agony twisted his transformed features. The plasma had burned away the entire front layer of his flesh, exposing raw muscle and glowing bone beneath. Yet alongside the pain was shock, and bitter remembrance.
That attack… that green plasma beam… he had seen it before, in the battle before his fall into the power of Paradise.
His gaze snapped back toward the fading pillar of energy.
Half expecting to see the towering warrior of the Luminarch step forth, he braced himself.
But something else emerged.
A metallic suit stepped out, its sleek plates glowing with vibrant neon-green energy that pulsed through every joint, seam, and channel. At the center of its chest beat a radiant energy core holding immense power, threads of green circuitry flowing outward like veins. Cables—almost like organic tendrils—coiled and uncoiled across its limbs, giving the figure a biomechanical presence.
Yet beneath all of that radiance burned a familiar force, the dark-blue, flame-like aura of Logos. The two energies intertwined, reinforcing each other rather than clashing. The fusion was seamless, symbiotic. The best of both worlds.
Of course, the figure was Sylar.
He lifted his hand and flexed his fingers. Though metallic, the movement felt natural, almost like his own flesh. The sensation was surreal, but Sylar forced the stray thought aside. Only one thing mattered now.
Killing Pierce.
The energy core in his chest pulsed brighter and brighter, rhythms of power rippling through his frame. Logos' aura roared higher in response, and a wave of force blasted outward as Sylar launched himself forward.
His speed was impossible, beyond anything Pierce had witnessed. A crackling sphere of concentrated green energy formed in Sylar's outstretched palm, radiating raw annihilation. Sparks of dark-blue Logos fire licked around it, warping the air.
He streaked across the battlefield, a meteor of green and blue light, closing the distance with lethal intent.