1

The creature, Lunar Remnant or not (but what could it be, what could it be if not?), was not the strangest or most terrifying creature he had fought since he began working for the syndicate by a long shot.

Not since his powers awakened that fateful night.

But that face. That face like that of a small child, practically a baby. That face.

His enemy, nothing but a spine with dozens of tiny gray arms, like a grotesque centipede, began to crawl down the hallway toward him. Only crawling didn't seem like the right word.

Because it was fast. Fucking fast.

And even though it was a pile of bones, he was sure it was strong too. So he rolled out of the way, leaping into the open room right next to him, a gym or at least a room full of exercise machines.

The monster rolled past where he'd been a few milliseconds ago. It was big enough to barely fit in the hallway, so it was tearing chunks out of the wall along the way. Just getting by. No need to put any force into it.

That wasn't out of the ordinary for Lunar Remnants, but....

But what?

But nothing. It could not be anything else. Something like it didn't exist from nature, nor could it be born of it. Not the nature of this world, at least. Those things had come from beyond the atmosphere, an evil, an infection, from the moon. And this, this...

This had to be the same thing.

Probably.

Probably.

Sylvester heard a sound like a baby's laughter. It was hard to process that it came from the creature that had attacked him, but he had no choice.

It continued to laugh as it burst into the gym, tearing chunks out of the walls as it passed.

With those decrepit little gray arms, it easily lifted some disc-laden weights and hurled it toward him.

Of course, it was easy to avoid the blow. So was the exercise bike it threw at him next, wasting no time.

But it was strong. Heavy, the ground under his feet was starting to creak.

And still it kept laughing like a happy baby, that face drawn on the ground in thin, dark lines squirming as it did so.

Sylvester clicked his tongue.

He repressed the urge to demand that it shut up. He knew words would do no good. Even if it could still recognize human speech, which was doubtful.

It jumped right at him directly this time. No throwing objects, though it still had plenty to try it with. Sylvester didn't move from his spot in response. He parried the attack with his katana.

He resisted steadily.

The ground didn't.

They both fell to the floor below.

Fuck, more delays, he thought. I don't have time to waste with this thing. Whatever it is and however it was born into this world.

He swung the sword at the being's head and it simply bounced off without giving it a crack or even a small cut. Strong, in more ways than one. After transforming, Andrew hadn't endured more than one attack before losing something, but of course, he had been a newborn.

Sylvester swiveled his feet, tracing an arc with the katana that ended in one of those masses of small arms on the vertebrae.

He sliced through several of them like a knife through butter, but several others grabbed the blade of the sword and pulled at it. He managed to retrieve it, but the fact that it was something he had to accomplish, an effort, was troubling.

He was injured and tired from the fight with the other Lunar Remnant, and had barely had time to recover in many ways. His MP bar was still practically empty, too. But still...

What was wrong with him?

Sylvester jumped over the creature's head, and discovered that it was stupid enough to try to reach him with such small arms, not just by moving its massive body. If he had the ability to extend those arms, he chose not to demonstrate it then, at least.

He landed on one of the vertebrae in a crouch.

Okay, he couldn't use his powers to tear this thing apart, even though Cynthia wasn't here to witness it and so he was completely free to unleash the destructive power within him.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

But so what?

That mysterious power wasn't the only reason he was strong. He also had cybernetic enhancements to spare.

He could literally and figuratively run circles around this thing a thousand times.

Cut off all those little arms. Even then it could charge at him, it was big enough to be a siege weapon, but there was something to be gained by hurting it to that extent.

He began to do what he had just described.

The severed arms fell and began to melt as soon as they touched the ground, something for which he had no explanation. Nor did he care.

Even then, it laughed and laughed, it wouldn't stop, was it even capable of feeling pain?

The monster jerked, using its body as a huge whip.

Sylvester simply jumped over it again. It wasn't difficult. The only thing he was worried about right now was not letting this fight drag on. At this rate they might fall more than a single story. He was already wasting too much time with this thing.

He dodged, very narrowly, another cluster of those arms.

The creature had practically dived toward him, so as short as the arms were they reached the ground, punching holes in it.

Creaking. The ground began to crumble again.

But this time he was ready. Sylvester jumped back, avoiding falling with it once again into the abyss.

Could he call the fight over like this?

Yes, he had other priorities.

Unfortunately, the creature did not. It just wanted to rip him apart and devour him to the bone. It began to emerge from the hole, climbing up the walls, making use of its arms to open holes that served as a foothold.

It was a persistent bastard. He had to admit that.

He glanced at his MP bar. Even though he hadn't rested a bit, it had recovered on its own as usual. Not by much, it was well under half. But now he did have certain things from his arsenal available to him.

Still, fuck it.

His body was a weapon in itself. He could take care of this wretched thing without help from anything or anyone, and leave his skills for the real threats that no doubt awaited him later.

Sylvester dropped from the ledge, descending to violently meet the thing as it ascended.

He intended to end it in that clash. Not a second less, not a second more.

2

The door at the other end of the room had been closed from the beginning, but then it closed even more. Several layers of metal emerged from the walls, blocking the way and trapping the only exit behind a prison. Cynthia unloaded her revolvers on that wall, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to break through it. Not with her current weaponry.

There was no danger of running out of ammunition.

The bullets weren't physical. They were recreated in the milliseconds after she pulled the trigger by complex technology. They had left ammunition behind a long time ago, now it was all about the gun battery. If you had the money to afford it. Fortunately for her, the syndicate had money for anything. The battery should still last a couple of days.

"Great," Cynthia spat. "Just what I needed."

The floor in front of her feet opened up, but not for an attack. Out of it came two vials filled with liquid on a pedestal. And a screen with a brief description, to the point.

One opens the door, one leads only to death. That was all it said.

Cynthia scoffed.

"They think we're idiots, for God's sake. Surely they're both poisoned. "

She was no idiot, but her partner quickly proved to her that she couldn't say the same for him. Even after he'd seen her shoot at that wall and that the explosive power of the bullets in her revolvers had done nothing, a power he'd tasted firsthand, Ryan struck the metal as if he thought he was capable of tearing it all down.

"There's no way."

Unbelievable. No one in their right mind would have had to check that.

"Of course not, you moron."

Why did I have to end up with a guy like you? It was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it. Cynthia already knew the answer. Because she had taken her job as seriously as it was, watching the prisoner closely, and so they had both fallen into the trap. It was inevitable. And she had done nothing wrong.

She didn't mean that Sylvester had been saved by not taking his job seriously.

Just that, well. Just that she hadn't been able to and couldn't be as relaxed as he was around that guy.

"So this is what it's all about," Ryan said, approaching the pedestal with his hands on his hips. "Any ideas?"

"Why would they give us a chance to open a door we would otherwise never open? Both vials are poisoned."

"You sure?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Ryan nodded.

"Okay, fair enough. Well, let's check it out." He grabbed one of the vials.

"You're too stupid to listen to reason, huh? If you're in such a hurry to die, go ahead."

Ryan said nothing, simply uncapped the jar.

Then and only then did it occur to her that it might not be a poison they would need to drink. It could also be that the trap was a gas that would be released as soon as they uncorked one of the vials, trying to escape.

It occurred to her too late to change anything.

Hindsight was a bitch. Good thing she wasn't dying for the moment. If only it stayed that way.

That idiot Ryan drank it without a second thought.

"What's wrong with your head?"

"I told you. I don't care if I live or die."

"You also said you'd like to end this with your own hands.

"But if I go down here, I know a scary woman and her boss would finish the job for me. It's not ideal, but it's good enough for me. My life... " He wiped the corners of his mouth with one hand. "It's never been even close to ideal, after all."

And... She wasn't the only one who wasn't dying. At least not yet. Was there really a safe jar? No, but the door hadn't moved a millimeter, he had to have made a mistake. That's assuming the rules were of any use and it wasn't just a crude attempt to screw intruders in the ass.

Ryan picked up the other jar, opened it and swallowed it all in one gulp again. It shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. The layers of metal began to pull back, returning to the inside of the walls.

Just as that giant began to stagger.

It didn't take long for him to fall to the floor. Look at that, so it was true that one of the vials was poisoning and the other was safe?

Why was that? Fights to the death had no rules. Rules were for games.

Cynthia moved closer to him. Part of her wanted to see him suffer and die right here. She didn't care that he hadn't known what Andrew was doing. She had a strong sense of justice, so she couldn't tolerate an accomplice in such atrocities.

The other part of her, the bigger part, knew the truth.

That dying was the easiest thing to do. It meant no more suffering, no more regrets.

No more fighting for redemption.

"You were all mouthy about wanting to end this with your own hands, to fix your mistake," Cynthia said. "But now you're on the brink of death and I see you at peace. You won't have to think about it again, huh? Good for you. If you're even half a man, get up. Your fight is far from over."

That said, Cynthia advanced toward the exit. She wasn't going to wait for him to make up his mind, she had already wasted too much time on him. She was annoyed, especially since she wasn't sure why she had done that.