Chapter 142: Brain Power
Vexen’s hawk screeched, Signal Trace pinging the metal user, green shard glowing, her rifle firing, bullet piercing his arm, blood pooling, his spikes faltering. She dodged a lightning bolt, boots skidding, reloading, her cropped hair matted with ash, voice clipped, "Metal’s weak!" The lightning user surged, bolts cracking, wounding Torqa’s arm, stone Ikona rumbling, ochre shard dim, his growl fierce, smashing a soldier, blood spraying, combat relentless, Ikona dominating.
Federation soldiers regrouped, the metal user hurling spikes, piercing a skiff, believers screaming, blood pooling, their chants fading, "New blood!" Lightning bolts seared, grazing Nexis’s leg, his Flame Burst roaring back, orange shard blazing, flames licking rubble, his laugh choking in smoke. Roachaline’s Domination Aura pulsed, soldiers dropping, insect Ikona tearing, claws shredding, red shard sparking, her knife slashing a soldier’s leg, blood drenching her fatigues, her attractive scowl commanding, Vardency’s plains red with gore.
The outer perimeter smoldered, ruined gate hissing, burning skiffs crackling, bodies strewn, Vardency’s dust blood-soaked, ash clouds rising, red Epics flags flapping, believer chants faint. Roachaline regrouped the six, smoking, knife twirling, insect Ikona skittering, wiping blood from her scars, her fierce beauty stark, red shard sparking, violet humming. She muttered, "Ravel’d feast here," tossing a looted shard, cigarette hissing, grief flashing, her eyes glinting through ash.
Torqa bound his arm, blood soaking cloth, ochre shard dim, stone Ikona grinding, kicking a corpse’s rifle, his growl low, "More bones." He smashed a crate, splinters flying, his shoulder oozing, wiping sweat with a bloodied hand, stone Ikona rumbling. Nexis’s burns bled, orange shard pulsing, tossing a burning crate, flames crackling, his grin wild, wiping blood from his jaw, Flame Burst simmering, ash coating his fatigues.
Vexen’s hawk circled, Signal Trace locking the rogue signal—three klicks now, green shard glowing, reloading her rifle, brushing cropped hair matted with dust. "Rogue’s tight," she said, voice clipped, hawk screeching, "Video’s bait pulling." She crouched, checking a looted shard pistol, green shard pulsing, her eyes scanning rubble, ash stinging her face, believers chanting, "New blood rises!" their zeal fervent, flags frayed.
Sylira’s wire Ikona sparked, hacking a Federation comm, blue shard flaring, crouching behind rubble, quipping, "Panic’s my song." She tossed a looted comm, fingers twirling, blood streaking her thigh, her sly grin sharp, wire Ikona coiling, hacking a drone, its signal faltering. Zykra’s Shadow Veil cloaked a skiff, violet shard dim, bandaging her arm, blood soaking, her silent gaze steady, shadow Ikona shimmering, ash dusting her boots.
Roachaline’s violet shard hummed, knife glinting, ordering, "Bait the rogue, strip its shard," her Domination Aura rallying believers, their chants surging, "Video binds!" Soldiers retreated, turrets firing, skiffs rocking, combat pausing, Ikona humming, the post’s core looming, Vardency’s ash heavy, blood pooling, the six blood-soaked, their shards a storm, Roachaline’s fierce beauty commanding, no mercy in her eyes.
The breached gate smoked, rubble and bodies piling, Vardency’s plains blood-soaked, skiffs idling, red Epics flags high, ash and smoke swirling, distant turrets firing, screams echoing through dust. Roachaline’s knife glinted, cigarette hissing, insect Ikona poised, shards pulsing—red sparking, violet humming—wiping blood from her cheek, her attractive scowl fierce. "Core’s ours," she said, voice sharp, twirling her knife, tossing a soldier’s looted badge, her power complex radiating.