She opened her mouth in a silent scream, and her massive body crashed to the ground, the mechanical head as large as a small building resembling a half-finished doll from an assembly line—its shell cracked upon impact, and the eyeball rolled down the overpass, smashing through power poles and vehicles.

The shocking scene before him reminded John of the out-of-control intercity train, and an overwhelming fear surged in his heart.

In that moment of hesitation...

The eyeball that had popped out was darting straight toward him!

John rolled to dodge, unable to look, but through the vibration and sound, he could imagine the violent impact behind him.

He started running through the city alleys, finding them filled with bodies of Exiles, gang thugs, corrupt doctors, and decadent gamblers, all stretching out blood-stained arms trying to hold him back.

The walls extended sideways.

The eyeball smashed through obstacles, continuing to rush toward John.

Red wires sprouted from its surface, ending in arcs of electricity, firing toward him with a piercing explosive sound.

John struggled to dodge, the real heat wave and scorching pain brushing past him.

The corpses scattered in the city's ruins inexplicably stood up, raising gun barrels to shoot at him.

John had long abandoned the heavy "lollipop," quickly drawing his silenced pistol and launching an assault with the Rapid Runner, but the bullets had little direct effect on the rotten corpses.

He desperately needed his primary weapon, and the strong urge and life-and-death threat momentarily freed him from mental stagnation, attempting to touch a rifle ready for immediate use as he rolled on the ground.

But all he grasped were bottles and broken limbs.

"F*ck!"

John dodged another arc explosion, hiding behind cover and fiercely slapped himself twice, using the brief pain and mental suggestion to finally break free from the hallucination of the rain-soaked city.

He briefly scanned around, spotting Hercules's position.

Smoke swept in once more.

The steel city emerged in the flickering data turbulence.

John crashed into the "grocery store," passed through the sensationless window, and upon landing as he remembered, picked up a rectangular mosaic.

He slid his palm to the handle, the gasket detected the smart module, and countless signals transmitted to his brain, launching corresponding subprograms.

John stood up again, pouring bullets toward the distant "living corpse."

He was unstoppable, piercing through shop walls, his face slightly contorted as the massive recoil and gun flames churned through thick fog, shattering the distant enemy.

The mechanical eyeball switched direction, fiercely charging at John.

The bullets exploded in red-gray mist on its surface, and just as it was about to hit, John activated the Sianweistan and rolled to dodge.

Rumble—

The eyeball shattered the window, piercing through a building, then turned in the air, extending more wires.

An electric current swept over like a thunderstorm.

John cursed and fled in a panic, almost getting crushed when suddenly an intercity train dashed out from the side.

It was public transport threading through skyscrapers.

The metal rails stretched forward endlessly, ending in mosaic, condensing from the illusion and accelerating continuously.

The heavy carriage was suspended below, roaring forward, and the metal locomotive directly flipped the mechanical eyeball, smashing it into a sturdy building with the rumbling carriage following after it, disappearing into the overwhelming dust and smoke.

Explosions happened continuously, thick smoke lifting giant waves, shrouding everything.

Something stopped that thing?

"Ow, shit—" John immediately felt a sharp pain, looking down at his wrist where an electronic wristband showed a gradually decreasing fluorescence, seemingly injecting him with drugs.

He knelt down and vomited up acidic water.

Various drugs converged in his body, different signals stimulating the brain, as if a battle had erupted within his body.

John wiped away his physiological tears, seeing rubble and earth, bodies everywhere, and the cave walls gradually stabilizing from their shaking.

[...*%&￥John, John!]

"Cough, whew~ I, I damn well heard you… whew, f*ck…"

John finally became fully lucid.

Maya's voice came through the team channel.

[Damn, you nearly got a high! Hell, I've never encountered someone with such low drug resistance, aren't mercenaries supposed to treat functional drinks and stimulants like they drink water? Your body is really strange, even Healing Potions and Combat Stimulants easily overdose!]

Maya could remotely monitor John's stats via his wristband, seeing his brain all in red through the portable device, cortical stimulation overloaded, and only just now did the drug injection bring the stats back to the safe zone.

[I found the Damascus Camp member you mentioned, but unfortunately, one was fatally shot, and the body was very cleanly dealt with, while the other has already gone to meet you.]

John looked toward the explosion spot within his hallucination.

That "mechanical eyeball" was actually a heavy armored vehicle.

A model specialized by major companies for armed transport, the armor thick as hell, with alloy horns and explosion-proof plating on the bumper.

It was currently being hit from the side by a large engineering vehicle, through an elevating structure lifting its six tires off the ground, firmly "embedding" it into the rock layer wall.

The driver's seat is occupied by a member of the Damascus Camp.

John looked through the window and saw:

A man with a baseball cap, dark-skinned, pulling a bolt, then swiftly operating the electronic instruments, disappearing as he pushed the door open amidst the engine's roar.

A moment later.

He bent down and jogged from behind the starting engineering vehicle.

The distance between them gradually shortened.

John noticed more details one after another—iconic faded baseball cap, mixed brownish skin tone, cheeks with a stubbly beard.

He had indeed seen him in the camp before.

Simon.

Was that his name?

During the raid on Ironfoot Kelp at Silver Port, Simon also attended the core combat meeting and led a convoy alone. He was the youngest among all the team leaders present, and had a very good relationship with Talia as well.

"John, are you okay?"

Simon was already approaching, carrying John's lost tactical belt, which held the custom magazine of Hercules; it was unclear when it had fallen.

"Listen, buddy, we've got to get out of here. That damn iron shell is modified like crap, but it has the real deal inside..."

As Simon spoke, he pulled John along, running, looking back towards the wall.

At that moment, a huge noise roared out of the armored vehicle, as if a trapped beast was about to break free.

"Where's Old Du?"

John asked anxiously.

Before Simon could answer, Maya's reply came through the audio.

[Shit, he's in the armored vehicle! John, get the hell out of there.]

John and Simon had already reached the parking lot, with no time to look for car keys. They each picked a motorcycle that was already unlocked, then revved the engines and shot down the slope one after the other.

Rumble—

Flames consumed the area behind them.

"WTF? What is that!"

John exclaimed as he observed in the rearview mirror, seeing a vector engine flying vehicle pass through the thick smoke.

[Vehicle: Vaqi Vector Transport [Standard Model]]

[Scan: 35mm Automatic Cannon]

Blue flames shot from its tail, its modified wings raised cannon barrels, and pale yellow bullets flashed continuously.

The tunnel was swept with searchlights, blasting apart and sending rubble soaring, smoke and bright yellow firelines extended along the main road.

"F*ck, what the hell do we do!?"

[Meet beside your vehicle, I'm going to find something usable from these guys' armory, don't die on the way!]

Maya said and then went silent, probably also racing madly.

[Mission Objective Updated]

[Reach the rendezvous point alive. (Not achieved)]

[Ensure Simon's survival. (Optional)]

John gunned the throttle, launching up the cliff wall over collapsed concrete piles, swiftly navigating through a narrower bend.

Simon followed closely at about the same speed.

Most of the Wanderers were veteran drivers.

He wore a blood-stained dark green vest, two metal prosthetic limbs, and a neck circled by a tattoo of letters.

Rumor has it that it was the tracklist of a famous 20th-century rock album.

The transport aircraft behind was bombarding wildly.

John and Simon's motorcycles suddenly made a noise.

[EMP Charge Warning Detected, 71%, 88%, 94%...]

A burst of electromagnetic pulse resonated within the pipe walls, starting from the aircraft, blowing up street lamps along the way like extinguished candles.

Both sides of the motorcycle were showered with sparks.

Its smart brakes and throttle all failed, only able to switch to an extremely ineffective auxiliary hand-brake mode, losing power amidst the hundred-kilometer-per-hour speed, scattered gravel, and dimly lit abandoned tunnel.

"OH, DM!"

"F*ck!"

Simon and John shouted simultaneously.

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