The ground trembled beneath Elijah’s feet as Apex No.2 loomed over him, steam venting from its joints in sharp bursts, hissing like a beast straining against its own limits. Sparks flickered from its dented armor, exposed wiring crackling with erratic energy. Its single red eye pulsed—first with cold amusement, then something darker.
“You persist,” it rasped, voice warping between mechanical whirs and something sickeningly human. “But persistence alone does not win battles. Strength does.”
Elijah exhaled through his nose, shaking out his hands, his grip tightening around Serpent Shaft. Sweat slicked his forehead, but his emerald eyes gleamed, sharp as broken glass.
“Alright then,” he murmured, rolling his shoulders. A grin flickered across his lips, equal parts cocky and calculated. “Let’s see how strong you really are.”
The monster lunged.
A blur of steel and malice, its claws cut through the air, fast enough to carve deep gouges into the ruined ground. But Elijah was already moving—dancing even. He twisted away at the last possible second, pivoting on the balls of his feet in a fluid, impossible motion.
Serpent Shaft snapped outward, its segmented body unraveling like a whip, coiling around a shattered engine block. With a flick of his wrist and his grace Mass Increasion came to life, the weight of the debris multiplied tenfold.
A sickening crunch.
The monster’s own momentum worked against it, its lunge dragging it straight into the weighted slab. Its shoulder slammed into the metal, throwing its balance just enough for Elijah to slip past, the attack barely grazing his jacket.
He landed lightly, spinning the staff back into his grip.
“Not so unstoppable now, huh?” he taunted, but his mind was already calculating.
Too fast. Too strong. And almost impossible to damage.
Almost.
Elijah’s gaze flickered across the battlefield, processing everything—the uneven terrain, the broken steel beams, the shadows cast by flickering flames. And then—there.
A fracture in No.2’s armor. A weak point, barely visible along its knee joint, where he had struck earlier.
Make it move the way you want. Control the fight.
A smirk tugged at his lips.
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He shot sideways, his weapon latching onto a jagged metal beam. With a swing, he launched himself high into the air, forcing Apex No.2 to track him. Its head tilted upward, its glowing eye locking onto him.
There it is. Reacting exactly how I want.
Elijah lashed out mid-air, his weapon’s tip snapping toward its optical sensor. The monster recoiled, shielding its face with an armored forearm—just as he expected.
And in that split second—
He dropped.
Mid-fall, the Serpent Shaft coiled around another structure, redirecting his descent. His fingers found a chunk of shattered engine casing. He gripped it—then doubled its weight. Tripled it.
With a single powerful spin, he launched it.
The makeshift projectile slammed into Apex No.2’s weakened joint with a deafening impact. The metal cracked, and the monster let out a distorted, grating roar as its knee buckled.
That was his opening.
Elijah landed, already moving. His weapon snapped forward, wrapping around the damaged limb like a coiled serpent.
Mass Increasion.
The monster tried to shake him off, but its own leg was suddenly too heavy. The servos inside whined, struggling to compensate.
And Elijah wasn’t done.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, Serpent Shaft constricted—and he yanked.
No.2 stumbled.
The ground shook as its weight shifted, its defenses crumbling for the first time.
Elijah’s eyes flashed.
He twisted the Serpent Shaft back into a rigid staff, and in one smooth motion, he dropped the full weight of it—now enhanced to nearly half a ton—directly onto the monster’s exposed joint.
A horrific snap.
Apex No.2 collapsed.
Its massive frame crashed into the battlefield, sending dust and debris exploding into the air. The ground cracked beneath its sheer weight, its mechanical limbs spasming, red energy flickering wildly along its failing systems.
Elijah stood over the fallen titan, chest rising and falling, fingers still clenched around his weapon. A sharp pain lanced through his ribs—he ignored it. His muscles burned—he ignored that, too.
He knew better than to celebrate.
The thing was still alive. Still struggling. Still trying to rise.
But he had proven one thing.
Strength alone doesn’t win battles.
And as No.2’s flickering eye darted between Elijah and its own failing limbs—hesitation creeping into its once-arrogant stance—
He smirked.
“Not so Apex now, huh?”
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the battlefield, a new sound cut through the silence.
A distant BOOM.
Faint at first. Then closer. Louder. A flash of something moving through the wreckage—something fast.
Elijah’s grin faltered slightly.
What now?
[End of Chapter]