Blake crouched low, his breath shallow and deliberate as he kept his profile small. The air here felt wrong—thick, electric, almost oily as it pressed against his skin. His HUD flickered like an old neon sign, the normally steady display struggling to cope with whatever aura the massive creature emanated. Chimera's voice cut through the crackling interference in his vision.
"That’s no ordinary alpha," she murmured. "The cybernetics have merged with Leviathan biomass. That shouldn’t even be possible, but… Well, yeah. There it is."
Through the gap in the twisted metal, Blake studied the monstrosity as it prowled. The Ferroghest was a monster among monsters, making the others he'd put down look like runts. Its flesh was a mess of sickly pale tissue and crude mechanical grafts, like some mad scientist had tried to build a tank out of meat. Hydraulics whined and servos ground with each lumbering step, the sound setting his teeth on edge.
The thing that really caught his attention was the wound. Right in the middle of its chest gaped a gash wider than a manhole cover, pulsing from inside with unnatural bioluminescence that made his instincts scream danger. Something had not only managed to hurt this beast—it had infected it somehow. He filed that away as both a potential weakness and a serious complication.
"That injury," Blake whispered, his voice barely audible over the occasional clatter of debris dislodging in the distance. "What do you make of it?"
"It’s… reactive," Chimera replied after a pause, her tone hesitant for once. "There’s energy cycling through it—like an echo of something alive." Another flicker crossed Blake’s HUD as Chimera parsed data on the wound. "It came from inside the Leviathan wreckage. I’d wager whatever did that wasn’t scavenged—it was active."
Blake frowned but stayed silent as he watched the alpha Ferroghest pace aggressively around the crater's edge. It stopped abruptly and whipped its head toward one of its smaller packmates skulking too close to its territory—a feral scrap-hound about half Blake's height at most. Without hesitation, the alpha lunged and smashed the smaller creature into the ground with a sickening crunch, leaving only a broken mass of metal and flesh in its wake.
“Lovely,” Blake muttered dryly under his breath.
Chimera spoke with the detached precision of a scientist examining bacteria through a microscope, completely unfazed by the casual savagery they'd witnessed. "The aura's got them all riled up, keeping the pack out of sync. That alpha's pumping out something way nastier than your standard pack dominance. Pure chaos." She paused, and Blake could practically hear the gears turning over in whatever served as her brain. "When aura runs wild like this, it turns everything into a powder keg. Makes allies tear each other apart just for the hell of it."
Blake narrowed his eyes as he observed how none of the other Ferroghests dared approach now—not even to scavenge what remained of their fallen kin. They lingered on the periphery instead, snarling and twitching as though ready to attack anything, including each other.
"So it's keeping them divided," he noted softly.
"Exactly," Chimera confirmed. "It’s too unstable for true pack cohesion—the smaller ones are likely more afraid of the alpha than they are loyal to it." Her voice dropped slightly, as if she were speaking more to herself than him now. "You’ll need to learn control over your own aura eventually, Blake. Otherwise..."
"Otherwise?" he prompted.
She hesitated momentarily before answering firmly: "Otherwise, you’ll end up like that—driving everything around you into frenzy or fear."
Blake's jaw clenched as the implications of Chimera's words sank in. His first instinct was to argue—to point out all the times he'd protected people, led teams, worked for something greater than himself. The defensive response rose in his throat like bile.
But he forced it back down, drawing in one slow breath, then another. The alpha Ferroghest's savage display played back in his mind: the casual violence, the way it dominated through raw power and fear. He thought of his own capacity for brutality, demonstrated so recently against Rax's men.
The truth was uncomfortable but undeniable. Blake had spent most of his life honing himself into a weapon. His skills, his instincts, his very nature—they all centered around dealing death and destruction. The fact that he tried to point that capability at worthy targets didn't change what lay at his core.
The warmth hit Blake like summer sunshine through a car window. His muscles relaxed as the familiar sensation of Gnosis washed over him. Nothing like the first time—no overwhelming surge of power, no feeling like he might shake apart at the seams. Just a gentle current of energy that settled into his bones.
Blake let his eyes fall shut, savoring the gentle hum of energy as it ebbed away. Sometimes, he thought, the hard truths pay off. Simple words. Honest ones.
"Yeah," he said quietly to Chimera. "We'll have to work on my control."
[Experience Gained: Roadwarden]
Blake twitched at the blue text that flashed across his vision.
"I thought we agreed you'd suppress those," he said, rubbing his temples.
"Did we?" Chimera's tone dripped with false innocence. "This one seemed worth keeping. Quite the breakthrough you just had there."
"Right." Blake leaned back against the cold metal wall. "Of course, you could feel that."
"True." She let out a small laugh. "Our core lights up so dramatically when you get all introspective. Figured I'd let you have your moment."
"How generous of you."
"I try." The smugness in her voice was unmistakable now. "Besides, watching you work through your issues is better than anything I used to stream off the Tylwith networks."
"Glad I could provide the entertainment," Blake muttered, but there was no real heat in it. She had him dead to rights on this one.
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Blake exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his breath to even out. His fingers curled and uncurled against the cold, uneven surface of the debris as he readied himself. The alpha Ferroghest remained fixated on its pacing, its claws tearing into the junk beneath it with each deliberate step. Every grinding movement of its mechanics made Blake’s ears itch, but he couldn’t afford to flinch. Timing was everything.
His eyes flicked down to a jagged hunk of metal lying within reach. About the size of a softball, it was dense and uneven, with one edge warped into a sharp ridge. Perfect for what he had in mind.
Blake shifted slowly, moving with painstaking care as he stretched out a hand to grasp the chunk of scrap. It felt heavy and solid in his palm, reassuringly so. He tested its weight briefly before glancing back at the alpha. The creature's head tilted slightly as if it caught some far-off sound, its luminescent chest wound pulsing faintly.
"Now or never," Blake muttered under his breath.
He waited for the exact moment when the beast’s gaze turned away, then rose just high enough to pull his arm back and launch the metal piece with every ounce of strength he could muster. The hunk sailed through the air with a faint whistle before slamming into a pile of debris roughly 50 meters away.
The sound was deafening in the relative quiet—metal clattering against metal in a sharp cascade that echoed across the crater.
The alpha froze mid-step, its entire body snapping toward the noise with unsettling speed. Its head twitched slightly as it processed the disturbance, and Blake took advantage of its hesitation. Keeping low, he slipped out from behind his cover and darted across the open ground, his boots making soft but hurried contact with the uneven terrain.
Every muscle in his body screamed at him to move faster, but Blake kept his pace measured, deliberate. He needed to avoid drawing attention—not an easy feat when crossing exposed ground under the watchful eyes of a predator like this one.
The Leviathan loomed ahead, its shattered form clawing at the crater floor with jagged shadows. The wreckage sprawled in chaotic defiance, a grotesque fusion of flesh and machinery that seemed to mock the very idea of order. Blake's eyes locked onto a larger fragment—a splintered section of hull slanting upward like a crude ramp. High ground. If he could reach it, he’d have the advantage.
His chest felt tight with tension, but his breathing remained steady, controlled. Every step was deliberate, his boots navigating the treacherous terrain with care as he threaded his way through heaps of twisted metal and shattered remnants. The heavy gait of the Ferroghest continued to sound in the distance. Metal on metal, slow and patient. The alpha was still back there, taking the bait. So far, so good.
Bracing against the twisted hull, Blake tested his grip on the alien metal. The climb wasn't difficult, but something about the surface made his skin crawl. Not quite metal, not quite organic - more like both had fused together into something that didn't belong in any sane universe. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on finding the next handhold, pulling himself higher into the wreckage one careful movement at a time.
Halfway up, Blake paused to glance over his shoulder. The alpha was still facing away, snuffling at the mound of debris Blake's projectile had struck. Good. He adjusted his grip and continued climbing, his muscles burning as he pulled himself higher.
Just a few more meters.
The top of the wreckage offered a clear vantage point—a perfect spot to set up for an ambush. Blake reached for another handhold when a sudden shift in sound cut through the air like a blade. The alpha had stopped shuffling through the mound.
Blake froze, pressing himself flat against the surface of the hull. His ears strained to pick up any movement, any indication that it had noticed him. For a moment, there was nothing but silence—a stillness so oppressive it felt like time itself had paused.
Then came the sniffing. Deep, deliberate pulls of air. Blake's gut clenched as the realization hit—he hadn’t accounted for the one thing his distraction couldn’t hide. His scent.
A low snarl rumbled from the alpha.
It began as a low, guttural growl, vibrating straight through Blake’s ribcage, even at range. He shifted his head just enough to steal a glance downward. The thing was staring right at him now, its glowing eyes fixed and feral, coiled low like a spring ready to snap.
His pulse pounded hard and fast. He knew exactly what was coming.
The alpha launched itself forward, a blur of muscle and fury, tearing across the crater floor with a burst of raw power. Shards of metal scattered in its path, every stride eating up the distance between them, closing in with lethal precision.
Blake gritted his teeth, his muscles screaming in protest as he hauled himself up the final stretch of the wreckage. His boots scrabbled against the uneven surface, sending a cascade of small debris tumbling down behind him. Cursing himself internally, Blake flared [Unfettered Stride] back to life and practically ran up the remaining distance. The snarling and clatter of metal-on-metal grew louder, the alpha Ferroghest tearing toward him like a freight train made of rage and hydraulics.
With one last heave, Blake rolled onto a stable surface and spun to face the creature. His pistol was already in his hand, and he leveled it with the kind of practiced calm that only years of combat could forge. The creature was closing fast—too fast—but he steadied his aim and fired.
The first shot struck center mass, sparks flying where the bullet impacted a patch of cybernetic plating. The alpha barely flinched, its momentum undeterred as it surged forward. Blake fired again. And again. Each shot landed true, tearing into diseased flesh or denting mechanical joints. The creature’s body jerked with each impact, but it kept coming.
“Blake,” Chimera’s voice cut in sharply. “Deadeye—combine it with spatial mana. Focus on penetration.”
“Not exactly a great time for a lesson,” Blake snapped between shots, but her suggestion had merit. He thought back to way he felt when he was holding the knife.
He let out a slow breath, trying to focus through the adrenaline pounding in his veins. He called on Deadeye—not just for accuracy, but for something deeper, something more. He reached for the sensation Chimera had described before: spatial mana tied to their Leviathan core, twisting reality itself.
For an instant, he thought he felt it—a subtle shift in the air around his weapon, like threads tugging faintly at the bullets’ path. The feedback through Deadeye was faint but there—a whisper rather than a roar. He adjusted his aim slightly and fired again.
The round struck the alpha’s chest plate dead-on, but this time it didn’t just flatten against the metal—it punched through, leaving a smoking hole in its wake. Blake’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“That’s it!” Chimera urged. “You’re starting to—”
He fired again, snarling in frustration. The shot went wide, scoring a glancing blow on the alpha's armored shoulder instead of penetrating the joint. The newfound control was vanishing fast, like trying to hold onto a fistful of sand. Too damn slow. Not good enough.
The alpha roared in fury as more wounds riddled its body—flesh torn and cybernetics sparking—but its charge didn’t falter. It was close now—too close—and Blake knew he wouldn’t get another clean shot off before it was on him.
“Dammit,” he growled under his breath.
Holstering his pistol in one fluid motion, Blake reached for his knife—a familiar weight that settled into his grip like an old friend. The blade gleamed faintly in the alien light as he braced himself for impact.
He would have to do this one close, too.
"Chimera, we're figuring out my gun ASAP. I'm tired of this knife-fighter routine."