The name Chimerian was humanity’s label for the enigmatic invaders, a term born from desperation and curiosity when the first soldier’s body was retrieved and studied. The autopsy revealed truths both astonishing and horrifying.

At their core, Chimerians shared significant genetic overlap with humans, enough to suggest a common origin. But their appearance had diverged drastically. Before they looked pale, hairless, with features that hinted at humanity’s shadow but never fully embraced it. But now they looked more animalistic.

What unnerved researchers wasn’t just their stark physical differences; it was the foreign DNA woven into their genetic code, an unknown sequence that they couldn’t fully decipher. Its effects were evident: increased physical strength, agility, and durability far surpassing human norms, along with an uncanny ability to integrate their crystalline biomechanical armor seamlessly with their bodies.

The crystalline structures, half-organic, half-machine, formed an external carapace that acted as both armor and weapon. These alien invaders had sacrificed their original humanity for power, becoming beings of war.

And it wasn’t just their bodies that had changed. Something in their nature had shifted. The same foreign DNA that granted them strength had also awakened a primal bloodlust, turning them into beings whose sole purpose seemed to be destruction.

For Arthur, standing amidst the chaos of the battlefield, these thoughts weighed heavily on his mind.

…

Arthur stood behind the remnants of a fallen transport vehicle, his breathing heavy but steady. His thoughts churned, a storm of anger and self-doubt raging within him. The scene of the fallen ECHO soldier played in his mind on an endless loop, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility.

All Arthur felt was anger at himself for not taking action earlier. Then he controlled his anger and thought was it really because the soldier died and he felt responsible that he was angry or was it because of his own self-satisfaction that he wanted to take action. Was it his pride, the satisfaction he felt when he took control of a fight?

His gaze dropped to his trembling hands, hands capable of so much destruction, yet bound by his own fears and caution. Memories surfaced, unbidden, of the mining station where he had first encountered humanity. He had leapt into action back then, reckless and unthinking, simply because he couldn’t bear to watch someone die in front of him.

Back then, Admiral Kane had intervened, covering up Arthur’s abilities before the wider military could learn the truth. Kane had saved him from what would have likely been a lifetime of dissection and experimentation, but Arthur always knew there was a price to that salvation. Kane had something to gain by protecting him.

Yet, over time, Arthur had grown cautious, hiding his true potential behind a mask of restraint.

But now, as he stood on a battlefield littered with bodies, a dead comrade in his peripheral vision, Arthur felt something snap. ‘If humanity fears me, let them. If they come for me, I’ll face them. But I won’t hold back anymore. If being reckless is what it takes to stay true to myself, then reckless I will be.’

Resolve hardened in his chest. He rose to his feet, the anger in his eyes replaced with a cold determination.

…

The battlefield fell silent as more than ten Chimerians encircled him, their crystalline weapons glinting menacingly. Their segmented eyes glowed with malice, and their movements were deliberate, predatory. But Arthur no longer felt hesitation. He bent his knees slightly, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he prepared to lunge.

The silence broke in an instant.

Arthur moved faster than the human eye could track. One moment he stood still, and the next, he was a blur of motion. He closed the distance to the nearest Chimerian in the blink of an eye, his fist striking its neck with unerring precision.

The impact sent a sickening crack echoing across the battlefield as the creature’s head bent backward at an unnatural angle. It crumpled to the ground, lifeless, before it could even raise its weapon.

The other Chimerians turned to face him, but Arthur was already gone, dashing to the next target. He drove his elbow into the midsection of one soldier, shattering its armor and sending shockwaves through its internal organs. As it staggered, coughing up black ichor, Arthur spun and delivered a roundhouse kick that crushed its chest cavity entirely.

The remaining Chimerians hesitated, their instincts struggling to process the whirlwind of destruction that Arthur had become. But Arthur gave them no chance to regroup.

He leapt high into the air, his thrusters firing briefly to adjust his trajectory, and came crashing down on two soldiers at once. His fists slammed into their heads with such force that their crystalline helmets shattered like glass, their bodies collapsing under the weight of his attack.

One Chimerian attempted to flank him, its blade humming with deadly energy. Arthur sidestepped the swing effortlessly, grabbing the creature’s arm mid-strike. With a roar, he twisted, ripping the limb from its socket and using it as a club to batter another soldier into the ground.

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Two more lunged at him simultaneously, their movements a blur of synchronized precision. Arthur ducked beneath one’s blade, grabbing it by the torso and hurling it into the other with such force that both were sent tumbling across the battlefield, their armor unable to mitigate the damage on impact.

The last Chimerian, visibly trembling, raised its weapon in a desperate attempt to defend itself. Arthur didn’t even slow down. He punched straight through the flat side of its weapon, shattering the crystalline blade, and followed through with a palm strike to its chest that sent it flying backward, its body limp by the time it hit the ground.

Arthur stood amidst the carnage, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The battlefield had become silent once more, the remaining combatants too stunned to move.

“I’m done hiding,” Arthur muttered, his voice low but resonating with unshakable conviction.

And as the Chimerians regrouped, their numbers still overwhelming, Arthur prepared to face them head-on, unrestrained.

…

Arthur stood amidst the wreckage of his earlier carnage, his hands balled into fists that glinted faintly under the sparse light of the battlefield. His armor bore scratches, scorch marks, and dents, and most notably, the plating around his knuckles had started to crack.

The nanites that coursed through his suit and body were struggling to keep up with the relentless punishment he was doling out.

He glanced down briefly, noticing the dull shimmer as his nanites worked tirelessly to repair the damage. ‘Not fast enough,’ he thought grimly. But there was no time to worry about minor repairs. A Chimerian soldier, weapon raised, lunged at him from his peripheral vision.

Arthur twisted his body instinctively, his enhanced dynamic vision catching the movement just in time. The crystalline blade sliced through the air mere inches from his head, its energy humming ominously.

He ducked low and surged forward, ramming his shoulder into the Chimerian's midsection with enough force to crack its armor. As the alien staggered back, Arthur drove his fist into its chest, shattering the crystalline plating and crushing its internal organs in one savage blow.

Another Chimerian charged from behind, its weapon poised to strike. Arthur sensed the movement even before he heard it. He spun on his heel, narrowly avoiding the downward slash, and retaliated with a roundhouse kick. The force sent the soldier flying into a nearby debris pile, where it crumpled and lay motionless.

But even as Arthur fought with precision and ferocity, he was acutely aware of his own limitations. The crystalline weapons of the Chimerians were not just durable; they were deadly. While he could heal from wounds within seconds, the sheer chaos of the battlefield meant that even a momentary lapse could spell disaster, not just for him, but for his comrades.

Although he can come back to life even if he is killed he does not want others to die if only he can be a bit more cautious.

The minutes stretched into tens of minutes. Arthur’s movements remained lightning-fast, his strikes precise, but the constant onslaught began to take its toll. His armor was no longer pristine; deep gashes and cracks now marred its once-smooth surface.

One side of his helmet had shattered entirely, exposing part of his face. His dark, cold eyes gleamed with an intensity that seemed almost inhuman, a stark contrast to the blood and grime that smeared his skin. He could only breathe because the mouth-piece of his helmet was intact.

Yet, he did not stop. Every punch, kick, and lunge was delivered with unrelenting force. The battlefield had become a graveyard for the Chimerians he faced, their lifeless bodies scattered across the blood-stained ground.

The ECHO soldiers around him began to cheer, their morale bolstered by the unstoppable force that Arthur had become. His actions gave them hope in the face of overwhelming odds. They pushed harder, moving with newfound confidence.

But even with this surge in morale, the battle claimed its toll. Arthur caught glimpses of ECHO soldiers falling, some crushed under the weight of Chimerian mechs, others impaled by crystalline weapons.

…

As the fight reached the half an hour mark Arthur seeing casualties on their side increasingly fastened his pace in killing his opponents, he traded injuries for a killing blow. Arthur’s pace had quickened to a desperate frenzy. He no longer cared about the minor injuries he sustained; every strike he delivered was traded for a killing blow.

A Chimerian lunged at him with a blade aimed at his chest. Arthur didn’t flinch. He allowed the blade to graze his side, the searing pain barely registering, as he drove his fist into the Chimerian’s throat, crushing its windpipe.

Another soldier managed to land a glancing blow on his leg, the crystalline blade slicing through his armor and drawing blood. Arthur ignored the pain and retaliated with a kick that snapped the Chimerian’s neck with a sickening crunch.

His movements became more reckless, more savage. He tore through his enemies like a force of nature, each blow leaving behind a trail of destruction.

For an hour, the chaos raged. The battlefield became a hellscape of fire, smoke, and blood. Arthur’s once-pristine armor was now a mangled ruin, barely holding together. His exposed face was smeared with dirt and blood, but his expression remained cold and unyielding.

…

Finally, as the Chimerian forces dwindled to fewer than fifty, their resolve broke. Those who remained began to flee, retreating into the shadows from which they had come. The ECHO soldiers cheered once more, their voices rising in a triumphant chorus.

Arthur, however, did not celebrate. He stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Blood dripped from his exposed wounds which healed within seconds, pooling at his feet. His fists, caked with the ichor of his enemies, hung loosely at his sides.

The soldiers around him stared in awe and reverence. They had seen the way he fought, how he moved like a whirlwind, dismantling their enemies with brutal efficiency. His fighting style lacked the elegance of a trained martial artist; it was raw, primal, more akin to a barbarian’s rage. Yet it was undeniably effective.

To the ECHO soldiers, he was no longer just a comrade. He was something greater, a savior, a deity of war.

Arthur’s eyes scanned the battlefield, taking in the aftermath of the carnage. The cost of victory was steep, and the weight of those losses settled heavily on his shoulders. But there was no time to mourn. The war was far from over, and Arthur knew that the battles to come would only grow more challenging.

As he straightened his back and wiped the blood from his face, a single thought echoed in his mind, ‘I feel this is only the beginning.’

***