Rapi darted through the tunnel with a fierce, calculated speed, each movement fluid and deliberate, like a well-oiled machine. The narrow passageways seemed to constrict around her, but she was undeterred, her grip on the rifle steady. Her sharp eyes scanned ahead, picking up faint flashes of gunfire—Anis and Neon were still fighting. A flicker of relief surged through her chest, but she buried it beneath layers of discipline. Relief was dangerous, it slowed the mind, clouded the edges of her combat-ready state. She couldn't afford that right now.
Her boots thudded rhythmically against the dusty ground as she pushed forward, the world around her blurring into a dark tunnel of movement. The tattered remains of John's coat flapped wildly behind her as if it too were trying to keep up with her relentless speed. Gravedigger. Tyrant-class. The name echoed in her mind, distant but ever-present. A threat once described to her in a sterile debriefing room years ago is now very real, right in front of them.
The subtle tremors beneath her feet told her how close the massive rapture was, its sheer size shifting the very ground it moved through. Anis and Neon. The thought of them still trapped in its maw tightened her chest. Despite everything, she trusted them both. Neon, the youngest of the team, brimming with potential, even if she was often nervous in these moments. Anis, sarcastic, always pushing buttons, but reliable in a crisis. They needed her right now.
Rapi's fingers flexed around the grip of her rifle. She knew the thoughts creeping in—her secret body, the last resort. She could feel the itch to use it scratching at the back of her mind. It would push her abilities far beyond their limits, but she could still feel the phantom ache from the last time she'd relied on it. The consequences always lingered long after the fight, and every use took something from her. Something she wasn't sure she could get back…
She shook her head, pushing the thought down. Now wasn't the time. She wasn't just fighting for herself. She was fighting for them. She was fighting for the commander. The commander…
The weight of John's coat, flapping against her back, felt heavier now. She wasn't ready to lose any of them. Her squad, her comrades. She could hear Anis's voice even now, still cracking jokes even in the heat of battle.
The tunnel opened up, the vibrations from Gravedigger growing louder, almost overwhelming her senses. She could hear Anis and Neon ahead, still fighting—still alive. Good. She'd made it. Her breathing was controlled, each breath measured, as she adjusted her grip and prepared to rejoin the battle. Keep it together.
But the knot in her chest was still there. What were they fighting for? Were they just tools for war? Was that all they were? The questions came in waves, relentless, and though she had buried them beneath her duty and discipline, they still gnawed at her in these moments. What did it mean to be a Nikke? And where did she truly belong?
The sounds of combat grew louder. The screech of Gravedigger's enormous body, the sharp cracks of gunfire—it was closer now. Anis and Neon were still in the fight, but for how long?
Rapi's fingers flexed on her rifle, her pace quickening as she prepared herself for the moment she would breach the tunnel's end.
As the tunnel widened, the sounds of the clash ahead grew clearer, and Rapi's body tensed. She wasn't there to fail. She would do whatever it took to bring them back safely.
John stood across from Chatterbox, the air between them crackling with tension. The rapture's hulking, mechanical form was already repairing itself, wires and circuits reknitting with faint sparks as its twisted grin returned. John's chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, but the fire inside him was burning hotter with each second that passed. His fingers twitched at his sides, clenched into tight fists as he fought to keep the growing hunger for the fight at bay.
Not yet... he told himself. The battle lust was there, simmering just beneath his skin, a familiar ache that threatened to boil over. His muscles tensed, ready to release the chaos he kept restrained. His heart pounded with the anticipation of violence, each beat harder than the last, adrenaline blending with the excitement surging through him.
Chatterbox's regeneration continued, the rapture's grin widening as it prepared to speak. John had no intention of listening.
The instant Chatterbox's mouth opened, John's body snapped into action. His leg shot up in a blur, the heel of his boot connecting with Chatterbox's jaw in a vicious spin kick. The impact rang out, metal against flesh, sending a jarring shockwave through the rapture's frame. But John didn't stop there. The kick flowed seamlessly into a series of brutal, calculated strikes—his knees crashing into Chatterbox's midsection, followed by a lightning-fast combo of elbows, each strike precise and devastating.
The thrill of combat surged through him. Every punch brought him closer to losing control, the battle lust bubbling closer to the surface. His fists blurred, smashing into Chatterbox's chest and arms with relentless force. He could feel the heat rising, the violent craving inside him growing stronger with every hit. Keep it together, he warned himself, but the urge to unleash everything was overwhelming.
Chatterbox staggered backward, momentarily thrown off by John's unyielding onslaught. But just as John moved to follow up, Chatterbox retaliated. A barrage of missiles erupted from its back, the warheads screaming toward him. John dove to the side, narrowly dodging the explosion, but before he could fully recover, a searing beam of energy cut through the air—a particle cannon, flaring to life. John leaped backward, the heat from the beam singing his skin.
The explosion rocked the street, shattering windows and sending debris flying in all directions. The dust clouded the battlefield, creating a momentary pause in the chaos. John crouched, breathing heavily, his eyes locked on the dust cloud, waiting for a sign of Chatterbox.
As the dust began to clear, John didn't waste a second. He launched forward, his speed blurring the space between them. His focus was razor-sharp, eyes locked on Chatterbox as his cursed energy roared inside him. He pushed off the ground, launching into the air, driving his fist into Chatterbox's torso with enough force to crack metal.
Chatterbox roared in response, its massive arms swinging with wild, brute strength. The swings were powerful but sloppy, wide arcs designed to crush. John ducked and weaved between the attacks, his movements fluid and precise. Every dodge flowed into a counterstrike—sharp, lethal blows aimed at the rapture's joints and weak points.
Each strike sent a tremor through Chatterbox's metal frame, but the rapture's strength was undeniable. Even the glancing hits that grazed John rattled him, testing his endurance. He could feel the impact reverberate through his body, but he fed off the momentum, his strikes becoming faster, more vicious. The ground beneath them cracked, the intensity of their battle shaking the city itself.
They were locked in a violent rhythm—brute force clashing with speed and precision. Every missed swing from Chatterbox sent shockwaves through the air, while every strike from John cracked metal and flesh. As the fight raged on, John felt his restraint slipping, his control over the battle lust wearing thin.
This… this was what he craved.
They paused momentarily, their first round of the clash concluded, now circling each other waiting for the second round to begin
As they circled each other, Chatterbox's red eyes gleamed, his metallic voice vibrating through the air. "Human, join me. Lend me your ear, I mean you no harm."
John didn't hesitate. His voice was a low growl, cutting through the air as sharply as his strikes. "Bitch, shut up and box."
With a burst of cursed energy, John launched himself at Chatterbox, spinning mid-air to deliver another brutal kick to the rapture's jaw. The impact echoed across the street as Chatterbox staggered, but the rapture recovered quickly, launching another swarm of missiles. This time, John didn't dodge; instead, he leaped from one missile to the next, using them as stepping stones, his agility effortless.
As he closed the distance, their fists met in a thunderous clash. John's speed and precision clashed violently with Chatterbox's raw power. Each hit sent ripples of energy through the battlefield, the ground crumbling beneath them. For every strike John landed, Chatterbox retaliated with bone-shaking swings, his regeneration mending the damage almost as quickly as it was inflicted.
The fight escalated. They tore through buildings, leaping across crumbling ruins, and exchanged blows that cracked the streets beneath their feet. John was a blur of motion, his battle lust pushing him faster, harder. Every punch fueled the fire inside him, driving him deeper into the chaos.
"You fight well," Chatterbox sneered, his voice laced with mockery. "But you're no different from the others—weak, pitiful, and soon... dead."
John didn't hear the words. His mind was singularly focused on the fight. His fists connected over and over, his cursed energy crackling through the air like live wire. He ducked under another wild swing, driving his knee into Chatterbox's side, following up with a brutal elbow to the rapture's chest.
Chatterbox retaliated with another barrage of missiles, his back launching a swarm of projectiles that lit up the night sky. John wove through the explosions, moving like a ghost, his focus never leaving Chatterbox. Each explosion lit the battlefield, casting jagged shadows across the ruins. The city was falling apart around them, but John didn't care. He was lost in the fight.
With a growl, John slammed his fist into Chatterbox's side again. But even as his strikes landed, the rapture's frame continued to repair itself, each blow slowing him down only briefly before the regeneration kicked in. It was a battle of endurance as much as strength.
They clashed again, and John felt it—a shiver in the air, a visceral instinct deep in his core. His body moved on its own, before his mind could even comprehend it, as if the very fabric of reality shifted around them. Power surged between him and Chatterbox, an invisible current that seemed to thrum in the space between them, growing heavier, more intense with every passing second. John's heartbeat pounded in his ears, the rhythm syncing with the rising energy coursing through his veins. The red glow of Chatterbox's eyes locked onto his, a mirrored recognition flaring between them.
For a split second, the world froze.
Their fists met in a violent collision of energy, the impact so intense that it felt like the very air around them imploded. Black sparks erupted from the point of contact, tendrils of cursed energy twisting and writhing in the space between them. The explosion of power blasted outward in all directions. Time slowed to a crawl. John could see every crack in the air, every fragment of broken reality that peeled away from the epicenter of their clash.
The shockwave that followed was deafening, a crack that echoed through the city like a thunderstorm. Windows shattered for blocks, glass raining down like fragile stardust, as if the entire world trembled under the force of their strike. The ground beneath them splintered, rippling outward in jagged cracks that spiderwebbed across the landscape.
John's vision blurred for a moment, caught between euphoria and disbelief. His entire body buzzed with the aftershock of the Black Flash, his cursed energy roaring through him like a wildfire. This was power in its purest form, and it was everything he had craved—the perfect fusion of his skill and raw destructive potential. But the realization hit him like a second blow to the gut: Chatterbox had unleashed a Black Flash too.
He wasn't fighting just another rapture. He was facing an opponent with cursed energy, a soul, and the power to match his own. The Black Flash wasn't just an accident; it was a confirmation that Chatterbox was a different kind of enemy—one capable of meeting him on his own terms.
The crackling black electricity still hung in the air, dark tendrils dancing between them as they stood, momentarily frozen in the aftermath of their simultaneous strike. John's heart pounded in his chest, his breath ragged, but a grin split his face wide open. This was it—the kind of fight that pushed him to his limits, that brought him face-to-face with an opponent who could truly challenge him.
For a moment, both of them stared at each other, eyes gleaming with the mutual understanding that this battle was only just beginning.
John's grin widened, wild and feral. His heart pounded in his chest, exhilarated by the challenge. The revelation only fueled him, pushing him deeper into the battle lust that had been gnawing at him since the fight began.
Their fists recoiled from the impact, both combatants thrown backward by the Black Flash. Neither was willing to back down. As John landed, skidding across the cracked pavement, he could already see Chatterbox recovering faster than before, sparks flying from his frame. But something had changed—they both knew this fight was now on a different level.
Rapi sprinted through the dimly lit tunnel, the sound of Gravedigger's massive form tearing through the earth reverberating ahead of her. She moved with fierce determination, the tunnel walls blurring as she focused on catching up to the rapture's tail. The commander's coat, flapping wildly behind her, threatened to be ripped off by the sheer speed, but she ignored it, her thoughts only on the safety of Anis and Neon.
As she rounded a bend in the tunnel, Rapi finally caught sight of the metallic beast's tail, the segmented metal parts clanging as it drilled through the ground. Without hesitation, she lunged forward, grabbing onto the end of Gravedigger's tail with both hands. Her body was yanked forward violently, the momentum nearly dislocating her shoulders, but she held firm, her grip tightening as the rapture continued its relentless speed through the earth.
Further ahead, Neon and Anis were trapped within the creature's jaws, the tunnel flashing past them in a blur as they fought desperately to break free. Gravedigger's maw clamped down on them and threatened to suck them up into its threshers, but the two Nikkes were relentless. Neon, despite her smaller stature, fired shot after shot from her shotgun, the recoil pushing her back with each blast, but doing little to loosen the creature's grip. Anis, on the other hand, was wildly swinging her grenade launcher, using it more like a club in the confined space.
"Dammit, this thing doesn't let up!" Anis growled, her eyes blazing with frustration.
"Keep hitting it!" Neon shouted back, her voice tight as she reloaded her shotgun mid-struggle. "We can't let this thing eat us!"
Rapi, clinging to the tail, narrowed her eyes, pulling herself closer inch by inch. She could feel the tension in her muscles, the strain in her joints, but none of that mattered. Anis and Neon needed her. Each time Gravedigger accelerated, the force tried to shake her off, but Rapi's grip was ironclad.
"Just... a little closer..." she muttered under her breath, the sounds of Anis and Neon's struggle urging her on.
With one final burst of strength, she pulled herself further up the tail, the vibrations from the rapture's movement pulsing through her body. Gravedigger was fast, too fast to stop easily, but Rapi knew if she could reach a weak point in its armor, maybe—just maybe—they could turn the tide.
Rapi's fingers dug into the metallic segments of Gravedigger's tail, her body bouncing violently as the rapture thundered forward. Each time it swerved or accelerated, the force threatened to tear her grip free, but she held on, teeth gritted, her eyes locked on the head of the beast where Neon and Anis were still fighting for their lives.
Neon's shotgun fired off another deafening blast, this time aimed directly into the roof of Gravedigger's mouth, but the pellets merely ricocheted off the metallic plates inside, doing little more than sending sparks flying. Anis swung her grenade launcher, gritting her teeth as she struck at the metal teeth surrounding them.
"Come on, you damn metal snake!" Anis growled, swinging again and again.
But the creature only sped up, burrowing deeper through the tunnel, dragging them all with it. Neon's eyes darted to the walls of the tunnel speeding by them. "Anis!" she shouted, "We need to get this thing out of the ground or we're toast! We won't last in here forever!"
Anis nodded, realizing what Neon was thinking. If they could turn Gravedigger upward, maybe they could force it to surface and get them out of its jaws before it swallowed them whole. But how?
At that moment, Rapi finally reached the middle of Gravedigger's body. With a sharp pull, she yanked herself further along the tail, reaching the center joint of the rapture's body. Using her enhanced strength, Rapi jammed her feet between the rapture's plated armor and leveraged her body with a fierce twist.
The rapture roared, feeling the sudden change in its weight distribution as Rapi continued to apply pressure, pushing and pulling against the tunnel walls.
"Now!" Rapi yelled, her voice carrying through the tunnel. "Make it move upward!"
Anis didn't hesitate. She swung her grenade launcher with both hands, striking a critical point in the creature's lower jaw. The force of her swing, combined with Neon's relentless shotgun blasts, caused Gravedigger to veer slightly off course.
"Keep going!" Neon shouted as she fired off another close-range shot, this time into the rapture's core, sending sparks flying. Gravedigger let out a metallic roar, momentarily stunned, and swerved hard to the left, its massive body shifting violently.
The tunnel suddenly opened up into a larger underground cavern, and with one final effort from Rapi pulling on its midsection and Neon and Anis striking from the front, the massive rapture's trajectory shifted upward.
The ground above them began to quake as Gravedigger's massive body twisted and coiled, the walls around them starting to crumble. Then, with a deafening roar, the rapture burst out of the ground, its body launching into the air with the three Nikkes still clinging to it.
The sky exploded into view as Gravedigger tore out of the earth, debris and dust raining down around them as the massive rapture's form silhouetted against the light.
John's fists still crackled with cursed energy, each punch a release of the tension building in his chest. His grin was manic, teeth bared in excitement. "You hit a Black Flash earlier... So what? Got a cursed technique too? Or was that just dumb luck?"
There was no hesitation—only the rush of the fight, the pulse of adrenaline. John activated Ruinous Gambit again, feeling the power surge through him like a lightning bolt. It fed his bloodlust, made the air around him hum with energy. He aimed his next strike high—a devastating overhead ax kick that carved through the air like a blade, ready to crush Chatterbox's skull. "Let's see you handle this!"
John's maniacal laugh echoed as the kick descended, but the fight had sharpened both of them. Chatterbox's frame absorbed the blow, shaking under the impact, but his regeneration was relentless. Even as debris erupted, John could see Chatterbox smirking through the dust. Both of them landed hard, yet neither was backing down.
John's mind was locked in a vortex of dissonance, the collision of two parts of John that constantly warred with each other. The part that craved domination, that thrilled at pushing his body beyond its limits, that found pure joy in the violent rhythm of battle. He didn't just want to win; he wanted to feel the euphoria of conquering his opponent, proving that nothing could stand against him. Every blow that landed fed that selfish hunger. Every dodge, every strike was another step closer to that primal satisfaction of standing above the fallen, victorious.
Yet, beneath the surface of that desire, something gnawed at him—an unease. It was the part of him that still remembered why he came to the surface in the first place. The part that knew this fight wasn't just about him. He was here to protect. To make a difference, not just for the thrill of the fight, but to save those who couldn't fight for themselves. His squad—Rapi, Anis, Neon—were relying on him. Every moment of indulging in the thrill of combat came at the cost of the responsibility he carried for them. And for humanity.
He had left the Jujutsu Society because he wanted to fight battles that mattered, to carve a new path in a world that was collapsing under the weight of the raptures. And yet here, in the heat of this brutal dance with Chatterbox, that altruistic desire to protect the future and leave the world better than he found it was being eclipsed by the battlelust gnawing at him. This fight... this selfish hunger—it wasn't enough. But how could he deny the part of himself that craved it so deeply?
He felt the burn in his muscles, the satisfying crack of bone and metal colliding, and for a moment, the rush of victory blurred everything else. But the faces of his comrades flickered at the edges of his mind. Was he losing sight of them? Was he abandoning his purpose for the high of a fight?
John's teeth ground together, his jaw clenching so hard that it felt like the bones might crack. His fists tightened, cursed energy crackling around them like a barely contained storm. Focus. Stay in control. He could feel the heat of the fight pulling him in, the temptation to let go and fully embrace the chaos, but now wasn't the time for that. Not yet. He forced the battlelust down, shoving it back, but it gnawed at him, begging to be unleashed.
Chatterbox's laughter cut through the tension, slick with condescension. "Thanks for the workout, human." His voice dripped with mockery. "You've helped me improve... but I don't think you can keep up."
John's pulse quickened, the taunt digging into him like a splinter under his skin. His grin, that wild, feral expression, expanded—just for a moment, but enough to show the shift. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time, a chill ran down his spine. This wasn't random anymore. Chatterbox wasn't just fighting with him; the rapture was adapting, learning, and something about the way the battlefield had shifted suddenly became clear.
His senses sharpened, hyper-focused, and he noticed where they'd drifted—their brutal dance of fists and energy had drawn them back toward the fallen bodies of Mihara and Yuni. His stomach dropped. The pieces were sliding into place, and none of them looked good.
Chatterbox's laughter boomed louder now, rumbling through the crumbling landscape like thunder. "Cursed Technique: Negatio Libri Philipp!" The words rang out, sending a chill racing through John's veins. Before he could react, Yuni's unconscious form lifted into the air like a puppet on invisible strings. Her body shimmered, glowing faintly, before being sucked into Chatterbox's core, absorbed like fuel to stoke a fire.
John's blood ran cold, but then it boiled over. "NO!" The roar tore from his throat, his body moving on instinct before his mind could even catch up. He threw everything into one last desperate burst of speed, Ruinous Gambit roaring to life in his veins. His legs blurred beneath him, the world turning into a streak of motion, and in an instant, his fist collided with Chatterbox's face. He had to stop him absorbing Mihara as well.
The impact was sickening. His knuckles smashed into the rapture's frame, and the sound that followed was a crack—not just of metal, but of bone. John's bones. Pain shot up his arm like a lightning strike, and he felt the break—his fingers, his wrist, his forearm—they all gave way under the force. The cost of the Gambit hit him full force, draining his durability and leaving him exposed.
His hand shook, blood running down his arm from the broken skin, pooling in the cracks of his shattered bones. But Chatterbox barely flinched. The blow had landed, but it wasn't enough. John tried to follow up, tried to push through the pain, but his body betrayed him.
Suddenly, his legs gave out. His muscles locked, his limbs dead weight, as if the connection between his brain and his body had been severed. His legs were... gone. Useless. He couldn't feel them. He tried to push himself up, but his legs simply wouldn't respond. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind.
Chatterbox loomed over him, the red glow of his eyes burning through the dust and debris, his metallic voice vibrating with malice. "You fool." He sneered, a twisted smile creeping across his face. "By absorbing her, I gained her abilities. You feel it, don't you? Your legs—they're mine now. Blocked every nerve in your spine connected to them."
Chatterbox leaned down, his grotesque metallic smirk stretching wide as his voice cut through the crumbling battlefield. "I've got some questions for you, sorcerer—"
Before he could finish, the ground erupted beneath them with a deafening roar. A massive shockwave rocked the battlefield as Gravedigger's colossal form tore through the earth like a monster from the abyss. The sudden eruption of dust and debris filled the air, shaking the ruins to their core. The sheer size of the rapture was awe-inspiring, casting a shadow so large it seemed to swallow both John and Chatterbox.
The ground buckled under Gravedigger's weight, and for the briefest moment, even Chatterbox's malice was drowned out by the overwhelming chaos. John's mind raced, but something clicked in that instant. His cursed energy flared, lighting up his senses with the force of a supernova. It wasn't his legs that had failed him— Chatterbox's cursed energy had blocked his signals.
John's fingers twitched, and before he could fully process it, his legs jolted back to life, coursing with energy. The thrill of power washed over him like wildfire, his entire body responding in kind. Every fiber of his being buzzed with the rush of regaining control, the cursed energy roaring through him like an unstoppable current.
Without wasting another second, John launched himself forward, his body a blur of motion as he raced toward Chatterbox. The rapture, distracted by the titanic chaos Gravedigger had caused, barely registered the movement before John's foot slammed into his jaw, the force like a thunderous crack of a lightning bolt.
Chatterbox's massive frame jerked violently from the impact, skidding backward with a screech of tearing metal. John's strike had connected with a power that sent shockwaves through the rubble, but it was over.
John landed smoothly, adrenaline pumping through him like a wild beast. He was barely back on his feet when the massive, lifeless bulk of Gravedigger plummeted from the sky, slamming into the ground and burying Chatterbox beneath its titanic weight. Dust and debris exploded around them, a blinding storm of chaos as the battlefield quaked from the sheer force of it all.
For a moment, everything seemed to still. The world was silent, save for the fading echoes of the collapse. And then, out of the dust and debris, Rapi, Anis, and Neon emerged, their weapons already raised, eyes locked on the twitching form of Gravedigger.
With surgical precision, they opened fire—Neon's shotgun blasting explosive shells into Gravedigger's frame, Anis's grenade launcher firing in rapid succession, and Rapi's precise shots driving into the rapture's skull with deadly accuracy. Their coordinated assault turned Gravedigger into a heap of scrap, each shot another nail in the coffin of the fallen tyrant-class.
They rushed to John's side, their faces tense with a mix of relief and concern. Rapi knelt beside him, her rifle still raised, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. "Commander," her voice was sharp but laced with worry, "What's your condition? Are you alright?"
John groaned as he turned to them, pain radiating from his chest and arms like a fire beneath his skin. "I'm... fine," he muttered, though the tension in his voice betrayed the truth. His body was wrecked, but his spirit burned with the same reckless fire.
Anis wiped sweat from her brow, glancing at the disintegrating form of Gravedigger. "Did you get him? Is Chatterbox down for good?"
The battlefield trembled as Gravedigger's enormous form lay shattered, the colossal rapture reduced to lifeless debris. For a brief moment, there was a tense stillness, the aftermath of a hard-won fight settling in, but the quiet didn't last long. A low, grotesque gurgle began to rise from the heap of Gravedigger's remains.
The body of Gravedigger twitched unnaturally, the metal plates of its armor shifting as though pulled by invisible strings. Sparks flickered from its wounds, and then, with a sickening crack, its broken form lurched upward, as if something inside it was forcing it to rise again. The metallic corpse quivered violently, its pieces bending and warping as if being sucked into a vortex.
From the remains, Chatterbox emerged, his metallic grin twisted into something far more sinister. His body, still sparking with damage, twitched and contorted, but his eyes were locked hungrily on the piles of wreckage around him. "Oh, this will do nicely," he rasped.
Without warning, tendrils of black, crackling energy shot out from Chatterbox, latching onto Gravedigger's mangled remains. The metal of Gravedigger's body creaked and groaned, bending unnaturally as the tendrils yanked the corpse toward Chatterbox.
The process was slow, deliberate, each chunk of metal absorbed into his frame with sickening crunches. Chatterbox's limbs stretched grotesquely as he assimilated the rapture, his body warping and expanding, gaining new armor and grotesque mechanical appendages. His form grew bulkier, more menacing, as the last remnants of Gravedigger's tail were sucked into his body, disappearing into a mass of twisting wires and circuits.
A nauseating, wet sound filled the air as Chatterbox's jaw unhinged grotesquely, the final piece of Gravedigger's body disappearing into his open maw. The rapture let out a guttural, distorted roar as his new form solidified—larger, more monstrous, his body now a gruesome amalgamation of Gravedigger's and his own.
Chatterbox's glowing red eyes flickered with new life, his voice now a distorted echo of both his and Gravedigger's, twisted into a horrifying chorus. "Thank you for the sacrifice," he hissed, his new form crackling with raw power. "Now, let's see how much further I can push this body."
Rapi reacted instantly, raising her rifle. "Form up! Back me up!" she barked.
Anis muttered under her breath, "This guy just won't quit..." but still positioned herself beside Rapi, while Neon gripped her shotgun with trembling hands, her earlier bravado slipping. "Master, I'm scared..." she whispered, barely audible.
Before they could fire a shot, the battlefield was split by a deafening crack. The next instant, a massive hole appeared in Chatterbox's chest, smoking and sparking. The precision of the shot was surgical, impossibly clean. All eyes snapped toward the origin of the shot.
A figure draped in white stood atop a nearby ruin, her form still as a statue. The massive sniper rifle balanced effortlessly in her arms was still aimed at Chatterbox, the barrel smoking. This was no ordinary Nikke. Her presence was almost overwhelming—a Pilgrim.
Rapi's breath hitched, her voice barely above a whisper. "A Pilgrim..."
Anis, her brow furrowed in confusion, asked, "A what?"
Rapi's breath was steady, her movements calm and methodical as she reloaded her rifle, her fingers sliding over the smooth metal with practiced ease. Every click of the gun's mechanism echoed through the eerie silence that had settled over the battlefield. Her eyes never wavered from Chatterbox, who stood across from her, his once confident grin now flickering into something far less certain.
The moment seemed to stretch, the air thick with tension as the Pilgrim's cold gaze bored into the rapture. She wasn't just looking at him—she was calculating, dissecting him with those sharp, icy eyes, as though she already knew the outcome of this fight.
Chatterbox, ever the arrogant one, faltered, his grin twitching. His gaze flickered from her rifle to her calm demeanor, the cracks in his confidence beginning to show. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, the Pilgrim's rifle roared.
The shot tore through the air, ripping into Chatterbox's chest with brutal precision. Sparks exploded from the wound, the force of the impact sending the hulking rapture stumbling backward. He tried to regenerate, but before he could recover, another shot rang out, slamming into him again—this time even faster.
The Pilgrim's movements were fluid, each shot timed to perfection, her reloading seamless, as if she were conducting a deadly symphony. Chatterbox's frame jerked with each hit, the damage accumulating faster than his regeneration could handle. His once-unshakeable arrogance shattered, replaced by a growing sense of panic.
Sparks flew from his wounds, metal grinding and screeching as he staggered, barely holding himself together. "Damn you all!" Chatterbox's voice, once mocking, now trembled with desperation. He turned and fled, his towering form lurching through the ruins in a frantic escape.
The Pilgrim, silent and unhurried, slid her rifle over her shoulder and leaped from the rooftop. Her form blurred with an inhuman grace as she vanished into the dust, her pursuit as inevitable as death itself.
She didn't need words—her actions spoke louder. This was a hunt, and she would not stop until Chatterbox was erased from existence.
As the dust settled, the Counters stared after her, the question unspoken on their lips, the battle still humming through their blood. John, his body aching but alive, broke the silence. "Who... was that?" His voice, still rough from the fight, held the awe they all felt. "What firepower!" Neon whispered in amazement.
Rapi's voice sliced through the tension, calm but firm. "Questions later. Anis, Neon—get the commander and Mihara. We need to move. Now."
Neon rushed to John's side, still shaken but determined, her hands trembling as she tried to help him up. "Master, are you okay?" Her voice wavered, the adrenaline of the battle still coursing through her veins, but her eyes were wide with concern.
John groaned, every inch of his body aching. He forced himself to walk, ignoring the pain that radiated through him. "I'm fine," he muttered, though his voice carried the weight of exhaustion. His gaze shifted to Mihara, lying unconscious nearby, and his expression tightened. "Take care of her first. I'll be okay."
Anis, still catching her breath, moved toward Mihara, but something made her freeze. Her eyes darted around wildly, panic flaring in her chest. "Wait—where's Yuni?" she asked, her voice laced with growing dread.
John's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. The question lingered in the air, hanging like a storm cloud ready to break. "She's gone," he rasped, his voice low, almost pained. "Chatterbox… absorbed her."
Anis's reaction wasn't immediate disbelief—it was horror. Her eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat, and she staggered back, her hands trembling as the weight of his words sank in. "Absorbed? What… What do you mean absorbed?" Her voice cracked.
John didn't answer, the reality sitting like a stone in his gut. The sound of Yuni's absorption replayed in his mind, louder with each echo, gnawing at him. His gaze fell to the dirt-covered ground at his feet, and that's when he saw it.
Yuni's whip, half-buried beneath the rubble.
His breath stilled. Slowly, he crouched down, his fingers hesitating for a second before curling around the handle. The whip felt heavier than it should have.
John gripped the whip tightly, his knuckles turning white. He didn't say a word. The sting of failure gnawed at him, the knowledge that once again, someone he could have saved had been lost.