Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler

He couldn't feel pain—not in this mechanical body—but for the first time in his life, Crowe knew what it meant to be completely helpless.

A cold, primal fear twisted in Crowe's gut as Rosaline continued her assault. He thrashed inside the metal shell, but she was possessed—ice slashing and tearing, dismembering his mechanical body piece by piece.

"No! No—don't!" he screamed, desperation creeping into his voice.

For the first time in a long while, Crowe was truly afraid.

He could transfer his consciousness—but not without cost. Every jump drained massive amounts of mental power, and each spare body was a precious resource.

And now… he only had one left.

If retreat into that final backup, his already-fractured mind would likely shatter. It would be the end of him.

Sparks exploded. Oil sprayed in thick arcs. His mechanical frame jerked as Rosaline dismantled it like a machine possessed.

"It's done!" Vince shouted, relief flickering across his normally emotionless face.

Wesley let out a sharp breath, already moving to help.

Vince rushed to Rosaline's side, grabbing her arm. Her eyes were still burning red, her aura brimming with bloodlust.

"Let me go," she growled, trembling with rage.

Vince didn't respond. His gaze fell on the blood-drenched body next to her, and his voice softened. "Rosaline… it's time to leave."

Her eyes shimmered—red and wet. The dome overhead cracked, fractured, then collapsed into a rain of glittering ice crystals that melted as they hit her skin.

Wesley swooped in, catching what was left of Crowe's mechanical form—barely a third of the body remained. It sparked and twitched uselessly in his grip.

A kilometer away, Kaia and Millers finally exhaled, still reeling from Axel's death. But the mission… at least it was done.

Then, suddenly, Kaia froze.

A crushing force slammed into her psyche. She barely had time to register the pressure before a blinding pain exploded through her mind.

"Pfff—" She doubled over, vomiting blood.

"Kaia!" Millers turned, wide-eyed, catching her before she collapsed.

Her young face twisted with terror. With the last of her strength, she sent out a psychic warning."Run…"

Vince, Rosaline, and Wesley all received the message. Then silence. The mental link was severed.

An instant later, they felt it too.

A colossal weight pressed down on their souls. They looked up.

The sky churned with blackened clouds. A massive pale eye emerged from the sea of stormclouds, swallowing the sun itself. It opened—slowly, deliberately.

And it looked at them. There were no words, no sounds—just a gaze. A single look.

But it was enough. All three of them coughed up blood on the spot. A searing pain tore through their minds like a thousand knives slicing through nerve and thought.

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Morris was back.

In that same instant, Wesley lost his grip. Crowe's mangled body slipped from his hands. With the last flicker of energy in the machine, the old bastard rolled away like discarded junk.

Then came the voice. Low, slow, and soaked in menace. "I just leave for a little while… and rats crawl out of the cracks."

Everyone in Sin City heard it. Every corner. Every alley. Every rooftop.

And every face turned toward Saka Street—toward the Crowe Institute—with dread in their eyes.

Those closest fled without hesitation. The pressure coming from that voice alone was enough to freeze blood in the veins.

"We're leaving," Vince growled, grabbing Rosaline's shoulder again.

She was dazed, blood trailing from her lips. Her eyes flicked between Crowe's remains… and Axel's still body.

"So close," she whispered. "We almost had him…"

Wesley appeared at her side, equally grim. There was no more time. If they didn't move now, all three of them would die here.

"Let's go," Vince repeated. But this wasn't a retreat—it was a run for their lives.

If Morris had wanted them dead, they'd already be corpses. The only thing keeping them alive was his tolerance—barely.

Any further provocation, and all bets were off.

With no time to waste, Vince and Wesley—still strong enough to move—half-dragged Rosaline as they bolted across the rooftop, vanishing from the yard in a blur.

Behind them, blood pooled.

Rosaline glanced back, her vision swimming. Her throat tightened. She fought against the lump rising in her chest.

I promised you… I promised I'd bring your brother back safely…

Her own voice echoed in her mind—mocking, haunting.

As the three figures disappeared into the distance, the pale eye hanging in the clouds began to fade. The suffocating pressure that had blanketed the entire district finally lifted.

Back in the tower, a kilometer away, Millers held Kaia steady. She was pale and trembling, still shaken by what she'd just endured.

The difference in power was staggering. As a Level 4 Awakened, she simply couldn't withstand that kind of presence.

"How's the captain?" Millers asked, his voice tight with worry.

Kaia bit her lip and shook her head. "The mission's a bust. We need to pull out too."

Millers opened his mouth to speak, hesitating. "And Axel…"

He trailed off. The silence said everything.

At the Crowe Association, the wreckage told a grim story. Twisted metal, shattered synthetic limbs, and oil-stained ground stretched in every direction.

Crowe was slumped against a wall, half-crushed and barely functioning. His once-pristine mechanical body was reduced to sparking junk. He grunted as he tried to move, but his systems were shot. Still, the fact that he was alive brought him a strange sense of relief.

"Shit… Thought I was done for," he muttered, breathing heavily.

It was the closest he'd come to death since stepping into Sin City. His mechanical army—years in the making—was destroyed. The bionic prototypes, ruined. Who knew how long it would take to rebuild?

Then, his gaze drifted to the pool of blood across the room.

To Axel.

Crowe let out a raspy, strange laugh.

"Heh… Loyal little bastard, aren't you?" he croaked. "Didn't expect that. Almost screwed me over too, though."

From above, the Crowe Association looked like a war zone—splintered tech, spilled fluids, and scorched ground. But in the middle of the devastation, something was stirring.

Axel.

His chest glowed faintly with a cold blue light. Ice crystals had formed over his largest wound, sealing it like frost welding flesh. Beneath them, his body began to heal—tissue regenerating, skin knitting back together.

Inside his own mind, Axel drifted in a half-lucid daze. When Rosaline's ice blade had hit him, he'd barely managed to activate his Turtle Form to protect his brain and heart.

But the rest of his body? Obliterated.

Even though Rosaline had pulled her punch, the gap between them was too vast. One strike had almost torn him in half. His abilities alone couldn't repair that.

But then…

Something strange happened.

Just as he thought he was finished, a cold, unfamiliar energy surged in—reinforcing his awakening ability with a powerful shield around his core. His own healing skill kicked in, stacking over the protection like a second life-saving net.

It wasn't enough to leave him unscathed, but it kept him alive.

In his introspective state, Axel saw only the same vision he always saw : the towering tree.

Physique: 39 / 638

His Force and Spirit stats were stable—but his physique was shot to hell. It was the lowest it had ever been.

Still, something else gave him hope—his numbers were climbing. Slowly, but surely.

Back in the real world, Axel's fingers twitched. His eyes cracked open.

The blood loss made him nauseous and weak, but his wounds had closed—pink scabs replacing what had once been gaping holes.

He fumbled for a few life crystals and sucked the energy in greedily. Slowly, shakily, he stood.

Around him, the place looked like a bombed-out steel mill—nothing left but wreckage and fumes.

And yet… he was still alive.