Deep within Pandora, a mansion square woke up, stirred by chaos.
Pillars stood straight, but within their tall frames, concrete shattered into dust.
Countless holes pierced the plastered walls. Reinforced steel doors dented inward in extreme angles.
Even the glasses that once survived fell into pieces—never to recover again.
Beside the fragments flowed scarlet blood.
Fresh to the smell.
Warm to the touch.
It trailed to a corpse of an old man—white hair and brows, and blank eyes that had seen death. The wrinkled hands clutched tightly on his small chest, a futile attempt to stop his untimely demise.
Threads of the black blazer ruptured in many places. The white dress shirt underneath was stained by the unending flow of blood.
On his ashen face, peace had blossomed within.
But just as the house had its breath of silence, a sudden clash of metal rang loudly in the garden.
The still leaves and dust on the ground stirred up from the shockwave, blowing outward as they steered away from the conflict.
Two figures confronted on top of a broken stone bench.
One of them let out a low cackle, his mouth grinning wide at his opponent. The hand that gripped the combat knife subtly moved, scraping the paint off the metallic armguard.
"Is that what you got?" He asked, steam blowing out of his reddened nose. "Your old man got plenty more energy than you, Tyrus Shearman!"
The other party gave no reply, putting all his strength into his raised arm.
"Tsk!"
The aggressor suddenly withdrew, shifting Tyrus’ weight forward.
The knife which had been pulled, suddenly launched straight ahead. But before he could savor the sight of blood, an eerie sensation flooded his mind.
Focus vanished in a split second, enough for the trajectory to swipe far from its target.
At that moment, the aggressor’s body jerked, regaining clarity on his maddened eyes.
But Tyrus had already shoved his elbow into the lungs. The blunt metal edge struck dully on the surface.
The aggressor twitched in pain, muscles cramping in protest. Under the immense stress, he gritted his teeth and let out a hitch. Just as he raised his head, a sweeping motion blurred on sight, hitting his still-dumbfounded face.
His body flew on a narrow arc into the high wall. Large cracks flooded in, collapsing over the poor aggressor not long after.
"Elias Crowe," Tyrus narrowed, observing the motionless body. "My old man has drained you of energy. Indeed, it is an unfair fight, not to me, but to you."
With slow steps, he motioned to the side.
"I have been watching your performance," Tyrus adjusted his posture. "A result novel enough for HELIX III. I should have known of your potential pre-collapse. My research would have turned out differently."
Having distanced himself far enough, Tyrus stopped.
"But you are an unfinished product," he added. "One that is too flawed to—"
Several debris fragments shot their way from under his face in an instant. A large, bloodied fist punched its way through Tyrus’s jaw armor.
The metal bent, then compressed, then it cracked.
His face snapped hard to the right, blood pouring out of his beaten mouth.
Elias’s figure popped its way out of the earth, landing on the brick pavement. His lungs heaved fast, and shallow, mixed in with a hoarse voice escaping the damage throat.
"You... calling me a flaw," his eyes reddened. "Pay, for that!"
He clenched his fist and threw a punch, fully blocked by Tyrus’ still-functioning armguard. The mere sight of it ticked a nerve inside Elias, feeling his muscles not only lighten but strengthen.
"Hah!"
Tens of strikes were thrown at once.
Some were blocked. Some hit the air. Only a few hit Tyrus fair and square.
Increased metabolism, Tyrus calculated. Instantaneous muscular growth, rapid strength boost, but degradation of psyche.
Under the barrage of blows, his eyes locked tightly against a sight of bloodlust.
Typical of a HELIX III power type—a flawed subject, but a lullable one at that.
Just as his arm motioned to block the next strike, another hand larger than Elias’ carved its way through the madman’s face.
Shockwave boomed on impact.
Tyrus blasted back to the pathway, Elias farther away.
The sudden interference shook the conflict, instilling silence inside the mansion square.
What an impressive ambush strike Tyrus muttered under his breath, inching farther from this unknown party.
Is he an enemy, or a foe? No, those eyes have history.
The man stole a glance toward Tyrus, then shifted his attention back to Elias.
Elias’ body sprawled on the hard wall, still standing strong despite the injuries that has stacked for long.
"Elias, enough of this," Johannes spoke, short but cold.
"Ah, team leader," Elias shrugged off the debris stuck on his skin. "Or should I add an "e-x" to that?"
"This is madness," Johannes slowly approached, fists ready for another hit. "HELIX III has consumed you."
"You are mistaken," Elias breathed deeply. "Nothing has consumed me. I will be the one who does the consuming."
He pointed to Johannes, arms shivering as he did so.
"And you will live to see it."
"I don’t need to," Johannes’ figure blurred, re-appearing beside Elias. "Today will be your death!"
His right leg whipped straight towards Elias waist, ringing intense danger on Elias’ mind.
With practiced routine, he tightened his core, bent his legs, and pulled his curled arms close to his chest.
Like a sandbag, his body took all of the hit, propelling him out of the area.
Johannes realized too late, unable to disengage his already-motioned strike. He raised his head and glanced at Elias’ figure disappearing in the distance, having no intention to pursue.
When a madman has chosen to retreat, one should be careful of the trap laid out of sight.
Chase a broken man into a corner, and he will fight you to the death.
"Impressive strike," Tyrus voice came over. "But you had struck incorrectly. It only broke his bones and torn the muscles. Injuries light for a man like him."
His finger pointed at his waist, a cue much to Johannes’ dislike.
"Out of all the things I could have heard, this is what I receive?"
"Correcting mistakes has been my core," Tyrus shook his head, waving his hands in dismissal. "You can ignore my teachings and continue with your flawed performance."
"Quite a narcissist, aren’t you?" Johannes ears twitched, losing patience just from Tyrus’s words.
The latter simply flashed a grin.
"Well, aren’t we all scientists are?"
As he made his way back to his mansion, the Light APC’s engine roared nearby.