Unholy Player

Adyr forced the emotions back where they belonged, emotions he had let surface for the first time in a long while. Shaking off their lingering pull, he folded his wings against his back, drew his sword, and stepped forward. His boots splashed through the blood-soaked earth as he closed in on the nearest mutant.

He swung his razor-sharp blade at the frozen mutant’s neck, but its armored hide resisted the strike. The sword failed to cut clean through on the first attempt.

"Not as sharp as my crystal wings," Adyr noted as he pulled the blade back and prepared for a second strike.

The pain must have jolted the mutant from its paralysis. With the suppression of Malice and Presence fading, it let out a guttural hiss as blood sprayed from the wound in its neck. It lunged at Adyr, jaws snapping in desperation.

He caught it easily, gripping its mouth with one hand and holding it in place.

"Stay still. I’m trying to be merciful here, you know?" Adyr muttered with a faint chuckle as he raised his sword once more, letting black smoke-like Malice coil around the blade.

This time, the result was immediate. With a single clean strike, the mutant’s head separated from its body—the sword, now sharpened by Malice, cutting twice as easily.

Without wasting a moment, he moved to the next target, beheading them one by one in single, precise strikes. No wasted motion. No unnecessary effort.

By the time the last mutant’s severed head hit the ground, a distant hum reached his ears. Something was approaching from the sky.

A hoverjet—though its design didn’t match Selina’s or the others’. This one resembled the models used in Shelter City 8.