Chapitre 122: Race To Oblivion
The frag round I blasted the Perfecta with rips open a sucking, bloody wound in its flank and the beast shrieks in pain, snapping out off the coma the Idol had put it under. I quickly grab the bandoleer of grenade shells and the shin gunto from the cab's boot, slinging both over my shoulder before flaring my core and legging it in the direction of the SOPO force. Turning back briefly, I note that the Perfecta's core is blazing away at full intensity, its wounds from my attack already healed. Like a animal that senses blood, the monster lopes after me, completely ignoring the Hero and Heroines airdropping from the helicopter above us.
"You prepared all the firepower I asked for?" I hurriedly ask The Voice.
"Fragmentation shells and flash bangs right?" The Voice replies, "It is all in the bandoleer you are carrying. What is your plan, Transmigrator?"
I pick up the pace as I hear the thumping sound of the Perfecta's limbs draw closer. Damn, that thing can really move if it wants to.
"We need to keep the Hero from subduing the Perfecta." I gasp as I draw more power from the core, "That means getting that freak to fight until it falls apart. I'm just managing aggro here. The Hero and Heroines are in no danger right?"
"Correct. The Perfecta cannot digest the Hero and Heroines quickly enough." The Voice rumbles, "Even in the worst case scenario, they should be able to hold out until the Perfecta's body fails completely."
As we are talking, I hear the angry screeching noise coming from the idol gradually moving closer towards me. The Perfecta's pace accordingly slows and its snarling mellows into a relaxed purr. That helicopter the Hero and friends airdropped from must be trailing us from above. Looks like I'll need to keep blasting the Perfecta to get it to keep following me. Gritting my teeth, I quickly reload the grenade launcher with another frag round.
A quick glance backwards tells me the entire story. Instead of a ferocious charge, the Perfecta is reduced to a slovenly crawl, its core sluggishly churning spirit energy. I need to keep triggering its regeneration so that the beast's core will flare. The burst of spirit energy being released is likely what allows the Perfecta to resist the Idol's influence. I level the grenade launcher at the mass of quivering flesh and pull the trigger.
Another explosion, another cry of pain from the monster and we are back on track. The beast's spirit core surges and white flames burst out from the rapidly healing wounds across the blast area.
"You sure the Perfecta can't be sedated as long as it is in combat?" I ask for confirmation.
The Voice rasps, "As long as the Perfecta's core expends its stock of pure spiritual energy over a certain rate, it can recover almost instantaneously from any attack. Combat is simply the easiest way to ensure the Perfecta meets that particular threshold."
"Alright." I reply, "Remember, I need the flash bangs to detonate. None of that 'apologies' bullshit, OK?"
I don't bother to wait for The Voice's reply and perform a headlong sprint towards the SOPO line, zigzagging in and out of the impromptu barricade created by the abandoned vehicles that litter the road. The Perfecta does not bother with such subtleties and simply smashes aside the offending vehicles with its misshapen limbs. An animalistic growl filled with anticipation comes deep from within the monster's many throats. Its a sound loaded with pent up desire.
The desire to feed.
Time to give the monster a bit of a boost for the final stretch of this race. I fire the grenade launcher at the Perfecta once more and as it howls in response to my attack, I discreetly palm a flash bang from the bandoleer. Closer, I just need to get a little closer. From here I can see the SOPO officers silently staring at me as I am being chased by a giant monstrosity, not bothering to ready their weapons. That settles it, those guys want the Perfecta alive as well. Too bad your vacation is just about over, assholes.
Two hundred meters to the SOPO line. Then its one hundred meters. The SOPO officers begin to shift restlessly as the Perfecta approaches their serried ranks. Armored vehicles slowly roll forward, weapons at the ready.
Now!
I drop the flash bang and throw myself behind a line of cars at the same time. As my body flies through the air, I shut off the artificial core and a creeping sense of weakness spreads throughout my body. Landing on the ground hard, I cover my head with my arms and shut my eyes, just in time to block the nova of sound and light erupting from the flash bang.
Cries of confusion arise from the SOPO line before its silenced by the sound of a huge meaty impact.Grasping the frame of the car I am hiding behind, I raise my head and take a peek at what's going on.
Complete carnage. The Perfecta had been carried by its own momentum straight into the SOPO formation and is now acting like the proverbial fat guy at the buffet table. Its arms and legs lash out in every direction, skewering SOPO officers and cramming the bodies into ravenous jaws that pockmark the Perfecta's body. Sabers flash and bolts of energy are flung at the rampaging beast, but the Perfecta shrugs off all damage, its spirit core blazing like a star. But even now, at the height of its strength, I can see the monster's spirit core begin to dull on the edges, the impure souls its ingesting gradually creating a thin film of pollution around the core.
The Perfecta won't last long. Not at this rate. The beast nevertheless begins to bulk up dramatically from all the people it has been eating. It was already huge when it made contact with the SOPO line, but all the added mass it has put on makes it now look positively leviathan like. As the Perfecta's limbs continue to pull people towards it to be devoured, it also grows continuously larger from all the meat it has already consumed. And given the sheer number of SOPO officers available, the monster is not going to run out of food any time soon.
A metastasizing tumor. That's the best way to describe what the Perfecta has become.
I duck back down into my hiding space as the Hero and friends dash towards the Perfecta with their jaws hanging loose. Looks like my work is almost done here, those sedatives the Hero is carrying with him are of zero use now. All that's left is to deal with that crazy nudist and I can call it a day.
"Above you!" The Voice shouts in alarm.
I look up and see a solitary figure in a business suit carrying a saber take a swan dive out of the transport helicopter. The mystery man's entire figure bursts with spirit energy and to my horror red threads start to enshroud his form, covering the man's body like a crimson mesh.
Incarnate.
As the Incarnate plummets towards me, he unsheathes the saber with a flourish and raises it high to perform a decapitating blow. I activate the artificial core and my instincts take over. With barely a thought, the shin gunto is unsheathed and the flat of its blade intercepts the Incarnate's weapon with a shower of sparks. I am sent skidding backwards from the sudden impact but quickly regain my footing.
Not wasting a breath, I throw a flash bang at the Incarnate's feet, which obligingly goes off with an earsplitting blast. As the Incarnate stumbles backwards, trying to regain his bearings, I lunge forward, the shin gunto aimed unerringly at his throat.
The Incarnate grunts in surprise as my blade bites into his throat, but I feel an unexpected resistance against my arm. No matter how much I push, I just can't get the sword to part this guy's neck. Looking up, I realize that the only thing resisting my sword is a single red thread between the blade's edge and my opponent's skin. I then notice the second odd thing about the Incarnate.
The Incarnate does not have a physical body. His entire form is composed entirely out of spirit energy with the red mesh serving as a form of protection. I've met this man before, way back at the Squat, when he was in the company of Gallant's sister. Before I can recall anything further, the Incarnate kicks me in the chest, separating both of us.
"Representative Michael at your service." The Incarnate salutes me with his saber, "I would say its a pleasure, blackguard, but that would be a lie."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone