Spike lashed out, the black whip snaking through the air with a predatory hiss. As it moved, the obsidian shards along its length began to multiply and shift, growing into jagged, poisoned spikes that protruded from every inch of the cord. It wasn't just a whip anymore; it was a living vine of death that could shred armor from any angle.

The first strike caught Ethan by surprise. The whip curled mid-air, a spike shooting out and grazing his shoulder, tearing through his tactical gear.

"Is that all you have? A parlor trick?" Ethan said.

Ethan immediately activated his [Celestial Qi Resonance Scan]. The world slowed to a rhythmic pulse of blue and gold. He could see the electrical impulses in Spike's muscles a split second before she moved. The whip became a series of predictable trajectories.

Spike roared, her movements becoming frantic. She lashed out again and again, the spikes extending and retracting like the claws of a beast. But Ethan moved like a ghost, his body twisting and swaying with a fluid, effortless grace. Each strike of the whip missed him by a hair's breadth, the obsidian tips whistling harmlessly through the space he had occupied a millisecond before.

"You're too slow, Spike. Your anger is making you predictable," Ethan said.

Spike swung the whip in a wide, horizontal arc intended to wrap around his waist and impale him from all sides. Instead of retreating, Ethan stepped forward, into the eye of the storm. He reached out and snatched the black cord mid-swing.

The obsidian spikes dug into his palm, drawing thin lines of red, but Ethan didn't even flinch. He looked Spike directly in the eyes and smiled—a cold, terrifying expression that made her heart stop.

"My turn," Ethan said.

Ethan surged his Qi, converting it into a massive, concentrated burst of electrical energy. Blue lightning arced from his shoulder down his arm and into the whip.

"Fifty thousand volts. Let's see how your 'premium' genetics handle a real shock," Ethan said.

A deafening crack of thunder echoed through the village square as the current slammed into Spike. Her body went rigid instantly, her eyes rolling back into her head as blue sparks danced across her leather jacket and into her skin. The smell of ozone and burnt hair filled the air. She couldn't even scream; the paralysis was total.

Ethan let go of the whip, and Spike collapsed into the snow like a puppet with its strings cut, her body still twitching with residual static.

"Crul, status on the ship. I'm bored with the appetizers," Ethan said.

[The main ramp has locked into place, Master. I am detecting multiple high-density signatures emerging. Leager the Decapitator has stepped onto the dock,] said Crul.

Falcon 3's voice crackled through the comms, tense and alert. "Multiple hostiles closing in from the docks. We have contact!"

A massive man stepped off the icebreaker's ramp, his boots heavy enough to crack the frozen planks. He was the definition of a barbarian—bald, with a thick, unruly beard and a physique so muscled it looked like he was carved from stone. He carried a jagged, oversized axe on his shoulder that looked heavy enough to cleave a car in half.

"I thought it was strange that there was no one to receive us... it seems we have stowaways in my town," Leager said, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble.

Ethan didn't move, but his eyes narrowed as he scanned the crowd of sailors following the giant. They weren't normal crewmen. Dozens of them marched in perfect, robotic unison, emitting a cold, artificial energy signature almost identical to Alistair's.

"Crul, these are all genetically modified freaks too, aren't they?" Ethan said.

[Affirmative, Master. They are mass-produced 'Khriscar' units—slightly weaker than the elite classes you just fought, but dangerous in numbers. However, be cautious. I am detecting a much more powerful energy signature at the rear of the formation,] said Crul.

Ethan looked past the wall of soldiers. Standing near the ship's bridge was a man with stark white hair and a military posture. He looked out over the carnage with a detached, clinical gaze. If Ethan had seen the satellite feeds from the missile strike on Jason's convoy, he would have recognized him instantly: the Director of Parthenon.

Ethan sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles. "Surrender now. You're all far too weak to face us. Don't waste the lives of your men," Ethan said.

Leager threw his head back and let out a booming, mocking laugh. "Insolent brat! I've crushed skulls thicker than your entire body!"

Leager's body suddenly began to expand, his veins bulging and his skin turning a bruised shade of purple as his internal genetic boosters kicked into overdrive. He looked like he was inflating with raw power. With a roar that shook the snow from the trees, he sprinted forward, launched himself into the air, and brought both of his massive fists down like a mountain-shattering hammer directly toward Ethan's head.

The ground beneath Ethan's feet spider-webbed from the sheer pressure of the descending blow.

Ethan felt the vibration travel through his entire skeleton. As Leager's fists collided with his defensive stance, the sound wasn't a thud—it was a tectonic crack. Ethan's forearms groaned under the weight, his boots sinking inches deep into the frozen earth. He had underestimated the raw, kinetic output of this brute.

"You're not the only one who can hit hard, boy!" Leager said.

Ethan attempted to roll backward to reset his center of gravity, but Leager moved with a deceptive, terrifying agility for a man of his bulk. Before Ethan could fully recover his footing, another massive fist was already inches from his face.

The [Celestial Qi Resonance Scan] screamed a warning in his mind, a flashing red strobe of imminent danger. Ethan twisted his head at the last microsecond, but Leager's speed was overwhelming. The blow didn't land flush, but the glancing impact was still enough to send a shockwave through Ethan's skull.

CRACK.

Ethan was sent spiraling through the air like a ragdoll. His body smashed through the wooden facade of a nearby shop, the structural beams snapping like toothpicks as he tumbled into the darkness of the ruined building. A cloud of splinters and freezing dust settled over the wreckage.

Leager stood in the center of the square, steam rising from his purple, over-oxygenated skin. He didn't even look winded. He slowly uncurled his fingers, a triumphant, sadistic grin splitting his bearded face.

"Brat... this isn't the nursery. These are the major leagues. Remember that before you close your eyes for the last time," Leager said.

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