Ash never imagined waking up to such a chaotic scene. Instinctively, without a moment's hesitation, he identified the figure before him as an enemy. In Ash's world, enemies were dealt with decisively. Mercy wasn’t in his vocabulary, and his survival instincts—sharpened on Garbage Planet 12—taught him that even capturing a rabbit demanded the strength to fell a lion. These lessons, absorbed from the planet's mutated predators, were etched into his very bones.
The figure reached out, and Ash moved with lightning speed. His left hand locked onto the extended wrist and pulled it toward him. In the same motion, his right hand brought a blade slashing toward the figure’s throat.
Zwei, the armoured guardian of the young Master, recoiled in shock. He barely felt his extended arm touch Ash’s grip before the blade came hurtling toward his neck. Only the advanced plating of his armour saved him; the edge left a deep groove but failed to cut through. If not for this protection, Zwei’s head would have rolled like a fallen fruit.
Ash frowned at the blade in his hand. It was already dulled. Salvaged junk, he thought bitterly, and tossed the weapon aside.
Without a word of warning, Ash launched his next attack. His legs bent slightly, coiling power before he burst forward like a cannonball, closing the distance in an instant.
Zwei's armour wasn’t a typical battle suit but a micro-mech designed for hand-to-hand combat. It lacked a propulsion system, relying entirely on the user’s physical strength for movement. Its lightweight yet high-strength materials provided agility while protecting its wearer. The mech's standout feature was its combat-assist system, equipped with cutting-edge motion-capture sensors and an advanced micro-brain that analysed enemy movements and offered tactical recommendations in real time.
Yet for all its sophistication, Zwei felt overwhelmed. His HUD flooded with information as Ash’s attacks came faster than his system could process. The data cascaded like a waterfall, rendering it useless. Resolute, Zwei ignored the clutter and adopted a defensive stance, relying on instincts honed from years of training.
Ash’s movements, though lacking refinement, were brutally effective. His strikes were a blur—fast and heavy. Zwei, experienced as he was, struggled to react. Each of Ash's punches landed with the force of a sledgehammer, driving Zwei back step by step.
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To Ash, this opponent was an intriguing puzzle. Though slower and weaker than the predators of Garbage Planet 12, Zwei’s techniques were impressive. Ash marvelled at how the armoured man endured his relentless barrage. Back on the planet, his opponents were typically either gnaw-rats, which he had grown bored of, or the terrifying Iron-scaled Reptiles, apex predators he dared not provoke. Rune? That was a league Ash didn’t even dare contemplate. Rune’s effortless dispatch of an Iron-scaled Reptile left an indelible mark on Ash, reinforcing his belief that some beings were untouchable.
But this armoured adversary? He was fascinating. The mech's shell was astoundingly durable, surviving punches that would have shattered ordinary steel. Ash’s strength had grown exponentially under Rune’s guidance. He once shattered a steel plate with his bare hands during a frustrating training session. Now, his power was even greater, though he didn’t know the exact extent. Yet Zwei’s armour only showed dents and crumples under his assault.
Zwei felt the armour digging into his body, the once-snug fit now warped inward. He leapt backward, raising a hand in surrender. "Stop!" he shouted desperately.
Ash ignored the plea. He grabbed Zwei’s arm and yanked, forcing him off balance before driving his knee into the mech’s abdomen. The impact resounded like a drumbeat, and Zwei crumpled to the ground, motionless. Satisfied, Ash nodded to himself. He had heard Zwei's words but saw no reason to trust them. Control of the situation was paramount, especially in such an unfamiliar environment.
Ash turned his attention to the boy who had been watching the fight from the sidelines. The young Master, clad in an ill-fitted uniform, trembled as Ash approached. His wide, dark eyes reflected sheer terror.
Retrieving the fibre rope from his waist, Ash prepared to secure the boy. He noticed for the first time that gravity had returned, and the surrounding atmosphere was breathable. Carefully, he removed the oxygen kit’s mouthpiece, testing the air with a cautious breath. Relief washed over him as he confirmed it was safe.
Behind him, a voice called out, strained but determined. "Please! Don’t harm him. We surrender!"
Ash turned to see Zwei struggling to rise, one hand clutching his battered abdomen. The man’s voice was tinged with desperation.
"Surrender?" Ash echoed, puzzled. On Garbage Planet 12, the concept of surrender didn’t exist. The mutated creatures fought to the death, never yielding. Even in their dying moments, they sought to inflict harm. The notion of capitulation was foreign to Ash. Why would anyone willingly put themselves at their enemy’s mercy?
Zwei’s voice broke through his thoughts. "Yes. We surrender. But please, spare him!"
Ash shifted his gaze to the trembling boy. He could see no malice in the child, only fear. Yet his instincts urged caution. This was uncharted territory, and safety lay in keeping control. Still, Zwei's words stirred something unfamiliar within him—a sense of curiosity about the strange customs of these people.