Different shouts erupted across the plain, a chaotic chorus of desperation and disbelief, yet John wasn't fazed in the slightest.
When he heard Zockair's name ripple through the air, he couldn't help but turn his gaze toward Ricky. The two shared a momentary, silent glance; Ricky, as if reading his friend's mind, pointed with a trembling sword toward the crest of a distant hill.
There, silhouetted against the fracturing white sky, John saw two bodies sprawled on the grass. With the help of his Wireframe Sight, he could see their nature. One was undeniably human, pulsing with a volatile energy; the other was a fallen cyborg.
"Mark," John muttered, his voice a low growl. He clenched his fists before he started to move.
He didn't give a single moment of heed to the enemies rushing to intercept him. To John, they were no longer obstacles; they were background noise.
