"Damn, these Screechers are something else," Manoj said, playing with the sword in his hand.

"Well, we sure know how they got their names. That constant buzzing is fucking hell, man," another chimed in, massaging the back of his neck.

"I still can't believe Arjun hunted these beasts alone. They say he's already in the last region, going solo. Damn, talk about being a freak," Manoj continued.

Rakesh, however, narrowed his eyes. "Arjun is very talented. He learned the most from Siddharth's teachings and the basics of Shakti, but… the power he has comes from the equipment he's gained and his superior Stage Progress. And… the further it goes, the bigger the gap will become between us and them."

The rest fell silent, their expressions darkening. One of them clenched his teeth. "I still can't believe what that half-Chinese, half-white bitch said back then. All that bravado, and now she's saying she's gonna lick Alonso's boots?! Fuck, he killed Siddharth, and now we have to work for him. I told you, women can't lead, and here's the damn proof."

"Kunal, keep your racist, misogynist bullshit to yourself. Fuck, do you talk about your mother like that?" Rakesh snapped, his tone sharp. "This isn't about any of that. I also think Chiara is out of options at this point. She's afraid, just like the rest of us. People are dying day after day. It's only a matter of time before we either stay in the camp forever at their mercy or die off one by one until only those seven with the boss drops remain."

"Curse the day he came to the Oasis! If Siddharth were still here… things would be so different, so much better. A true leader, someone who actually cared for the others," Manoj said through clenched teeth.

A heavy silence hung over the group, dragging the mood down.

Then, without warning, Rakesh raised his hand, signaling them all to stop. "Wait," he sent through the wave transmission. "I think there's something up ahead. Prepare for battle."

The team's mood shifted in an instant.

The casual banter disappeared as weapons came out and they moved into position, each action quick and efficient. Their formation tightened without a single word.

But Rakesh frowned, unease creeping into his expression. This didn't seem like a Screecher.

And yet, it was strange—there weren't supposed to be any other squads in the Molten Crest at this time.

He signaled the team to advance cautiously, his senses locked on the source of the anomaly. As they moved forward, his waves began to pick up clearer details. A person.

He couldn't recognize who it was at first, so he pressed on, noting the lack of any wave cloaking, unlike the methods Chiara's faction used.

Then, as he got closer and scanned the figure, his heart skipped a beat.

His grip tightened on his sword, and his first instinct was to run. But something held him in place—something odd.

His waves focused on the figure's feet. They looked… wrong, unnatural. Burnt?

Rakesh's eyes couldn't make it out clearly, but his scouting waves, among the best in the camp, didn't lie. The irregularities were undeniable, as if his feet had been submerged in molten lava.

Had he fallen in a lava pool?

Suddenly, a wave crashed through his senses.

"If you don't want to die… leave."

He involuntarily took a step back, noticing the others grow slightly pale. But… he hesitated.

Rakesh frowned. It was unusual for Alonso to even acknowledge them.

He remembered Alonso's demeanor vividly—he would rather ignore them completely than spare them even a glance. To him… they were nothing but bugs. But now…

A slight grin crept onto his face, his hand trembling as his mind raced. He could see it—Alonso was severely injured. With feet like that, running was out of the question. Hell, even standing looked unbearable. And he had no ranged weapons.

Yes… this could work.

His pulse quickened, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. But this gamble… this opportunity. It was now or never.

The odds of them finding Alonso in this state—it had to be fate. It had to be karma finally tipping the scales in their favor.

His focus shifted to the equipment from the bosses. If he could get his hands on it… and maybe even Alonso's orb… who knows? Maybe it was special compared to the rest. If he could claim that power, then…

Yes… yes!

He turned to the others, sweat glistening on his brow, but his eyes burned with determination and greed.

"We have a chance, brothers," he transmitted. He caught the tension and fear in their eyes but pressed on, projecting as much confidence as he could muster. "Alonso's injured, and his feet are useless. If we circle him and attack full force with our slings, he'll be a sitting target. He has no ranged weapons at hand. He'll fall—he has no way to retaliate."

"But… but… what about Chiara? You heard what she said. If we attack… if we kill him…" one of them stammered, the nervousness in his tone unmistakable.

"She can say whatever she wants, but once he's dead, that's it. He's not coming back, and the status quo changes." Rakesh's grin widened. "If I get my hands on the new equipment and with the support we have in the camp, she won't have a choice but to compromise. We can throw her own 'for the greater good' bullshit back at her. She won't risk another faction split, especially when we'll have Arjun's backing."

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"There's no need to fear, brothers. This is the chance we've been waiting for. We rid ourselves of our heart demon, avenge Siddharth, and gain the power to move forward. If you stand with me now, I promise you'll never have to worry again. That's a guarantee. And if I can't absorb Alonso's orb… well, Manoj, you can have it. I seem to recall you haven't reached your cap yet, right?"

Manoj looked down briefly, then clenched his fist and met Rakesh's eyes. "For Siddharth!"

Rakesh turned to the rest of the group. One by one, they began nodding.

"For Siddharth."

"For Siddharth."

Rakesh grinned, his pulse still racing but his resolve steadying. "For Siddharth," he finally transmitted.

And so… they moved.

"We'll use a circling strategy," Rakesh instructed. "Start with weak slingshots to test the waters. As we get closer, maintain the same rhythm—appear uncoordinated at first, and don't use full force. Maximum 70%. That way, he'll underestimate us. When we're close enough, and I give the signal, unleash everything—full-power shots, no delays. Even sitting, he's dangerous, and he could use his new equipment to block the attacks. Stick to the plan. He'll get overconfident, and he won't notice we're holding back until it's too late. Is that clear?"

"Yes," all seven replied in unison.

"Alright, move out!"

All of them moved into position, slowly encircling him. Step by step, they reached direct visual range.

Rakesh noted Alonso's expression—it seemed unnervingly calm, his eyes closed.

Was it confidence or resignation to a sealed fate?

Well, there was no turning back now, especially not for him.

Rakesh steadied his breathing, gripping his sling tighter as he loaded the first rock.

But not yet. They needed to get closer.

The seconds dragged on, each one tense and heavy.

Rakesh kept studying Alonso's face, but it remained unchanged—unfazed, eerily still.

"Manoj, start with the first shot. Remember, less than 70%."

Moments later, Rakesh saw the projectile launch toward Alonso, only to be deflected by one of his tendrils.

Rakesh nodded slightly. Okay. Nothing unexpected.

"Deepak, Vikram, continue. Do not coordinate—keep random delays. After that, Kunal, and then we all start together. Keep it chaotic, and slowly close the distance. Under no circumstances release a full-force shot until my command."

Each of them sent a confirmation through wave transmission.

Rakesh took a deep breath, holding it to steady his nerves.

He watched as the projectiles flew toward Alonso, who deflected them with his tendrils. Yet, Rakesh noticed something—the tendrils were fast, but they lacked weight behind them. The closer they got, the harder it became for Alonso to fully deflect the shots.

And sure enough, gaps in his defense soon began to show. Some rocks grazed his shoulders and arms, leaving shallow cuts.

Rakesh grinned.

Even the mighty fall.

But then, as they drew closer, Alonso suddenly started laughing.

Huh?

It was a loud, unrestrained laugh, his body arching backward as if he couldn't contain it.

For a moment, Rakesh hesitated. Was this laughter just self-mockery? Mockery at being brought down by those he once saw as mere bugs?

But… something felt off.

Still, he steeled himself. It's all in now. They were already close enough.

"On the count of three," Rakesh transmitted to the others.

Alonso kept laughing, his hands on his knees, his voice echoing across the barren landscape.

Yes… laugh. Laugh at how pathetic your ending is.

"Two."

You should have killed me when you had the chance.

"One."

But then, Alonso's laughter stopped—abruptly.

The sudden silence sent a jolt through Rakesh, his stomach knotting.

Still, he clenched his fist.

"NOW!"

They all released their shots at the exact same moment, Rakesh even using Siddharth's technique to give his shot an extra boost, pouring everything he had into it.

His eyes locked on Alonso as all seven rocks sped toward him at blinding speeds, leaving barely any time to evade.

Rakesh tensed, holding his breath, silently praying. This had to be it. No more nightmares… no more.

But—

His eyes widened, his jaw dropping in disbelief.

Alonso caught all seven projectiles with his hands… and crushed them, the fragments crumbling to the ground like dust.

No… no… this can't be.

Impossible.

His heart pounded, a wild rhythm of panic, but no… they had him! They had to!

"Everyone—"

His thoughts were cut short as he noticed Alonso's tendrils anchoring sharply into the ground, the sound slicing through the tense air.

Rakesh trembled, involuntarily taking a step back.

Alonso's body began to rise, held aloft by the tendrils. His torso leaned forward, his gauntlets pressing into the ground, while his feet hovered above, never touching the surface.

It was… a nightmare.

No. No.

Alonso's gaze locked onto Rakesh.

A chill shot down his spine, his breath catching in his throat.

Run.

Every instinct screamed at him to flee, but…

Rakesh gritted his teeth and loaded another shot, firing it straight at Alonso.

With a subtle, almost effortless shift, Alonso evaded, the projectile slicing through empty air.

And then he moved.

Not toward him—toward Manoj.

But the way he moved. It was a grotesque abomination, a demon dragged from the bowels of hell itself. With his arms and tendrils clawing and lashing against the ground, he surged forward at an inhuman speed.

And he saw it. He saw it clearly.

Alonso rushed past Manoj, and for an instant, it seemed as if nothing had happened. Then, blood began to drip steadily from a hole where his heart should have been.

Moments later, Manoj collapsed to the ground, his body disintegrating into nothingness.

Rakesh snapped out of his daze. He turned and ran, a desperate, frantic sprint. Nothing else mattered.

Why… why had he done it? Why…

His teeth ground together, and his vision blurred. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he forced his body beyond its limits.

Behind him, the screams began.

He… he was killing them all.

Rakesh prayed to every god he could think of, tears streaming down his face as he ran for his life.

The screams grew louder, more desperate…

But Rakesh didn't dare look back.

Seconds passed, and hope began to flicker in his chest. They had scattered, running in different directions.

Good. That was good.

As long as he escaped from—

Then he felt it.

The vibrations. The presence.

No… it was impossible. He was running straight toward him. So close… how!?

SNAP!

The sound of severed flesh.

Suddenly, Rakesh was falling. His body slammed to the ground, his mind reeling in shock.

Wait… my… legs.

He looked down and saw nothing below his thighs.

"AHHHHH!"

The scream tore from his throat as pain erupted, consuming every nerve in his body. His face hit the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

He rolled, screaming, his hands clawing at the earth as he tried to crawl away.

The blood poured endlessly, his strength fading with each heartbeat. He reached for his sword, desperate, trembling.

And then he saw him.

Alonso stood there, motionless, the mask concealing his face, but those eyes… those cold, indifferent eyes. Tendrils writhed around him, dark and menacing.

"Please… please, I beg you… I'll serve you… I'll be your—"

There was no reply.

Just a cold stare.

Rakesh's tears streamed down his face, his body convulsing with fear.

"I… please… I…"

A sudden, sharp pain pierced his chest.

He looked down and saw the hole where his heart had been.

And then… everything went dark.

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