The C-rank noticed the lump of metal detach from Zion and froze for a split second.

That was all the time Zion needed.

The pressure in the air intensified without warning, slamming down on the C-rank's armor. His breathing hitched as a deep sense of urgency took hold, a cold chill racing down his spine.

'I need to kill him now!' he thought, gritting his teeth as he forced his sword down.

But his arms felt wrong.

They felt heavy and sluggish. Nothing comparable to the strength he'd had moments earlier.

Still, the C-rank pushed through it.

Zion saw the blade coming.

It was as if time slowed down in front of him.

He moved calmly, lifting his left arm and pointing it straight at his opponent.

'Uriel,' he thought. 'Thirty percent.'

[Affirmative.]

His arm lit up in a familiar blue color.

The C-rank's sword didn't miss its target either.

His sword slammed down onto Zion's left fist, carving through his flesh and bones. His hand split in two under the force, scales shattering as blood sprayed into the air.

Pain exploded through his arm. Yet he managed to ignore it as the agony flooding his body began to numb his senses.

What he did feel was a deep, scorching heat eroding his left side.

[It's ready, Host,] Uriel said, its voice almost apologetic. [Whenever you want…]

The rest of the words blurred together as Zion unclenched his left hand.

Blue light erupted from his shattered fist in a violent surge, swallowing the blade and the C-rank's upper body in an instant.

A bright blue beam crushed his armor like paper as the blast tore through his chest, shoulders, and head.

There was no time to react.

The C-rank's upper body vanished completely, melted at such a high temperature that not even his skin dripped onto the street. What remained of his lower body staggered once before collapsing lifelessly onto the road.

Zion stared at the corpse in silence, barely conscious.

His left arm shook violently, nerves screaming as the last bit of energy left them.

'…Done,' Zion thought, feeling a numb sense of satisfaction.

Behind him, the metal mass slowly merged back with his body.

Zion exhaled shakily and tried to move.

But nothing happened.

His body finally gave up, pain and exhaustion crashing over him in a single wave. The world around him tilted as he heard Uriel's voice one more time.

[It was an honor, Host,] it said softly. [Fate will decide what happens next.]

With that, everything went dark around him.

At the same time, a man of small posture jumped down from a building.

His back was hunched as his single eye swept across the destruction in front of him. Concrete littered the street, walls scorched black, some even melted.

Finally, his eye landed on the three steaming corpses.

"…That was interesting," a hoarse voice said, chuckling. "I knew he wasn't ordinary… but to this extent? I would've never guessed."

He turned his attention to the figure collapsed at the center of it all.

Zion lay motionless, blood pooling beneath his shattered arm, his chest barely rising.

The one-eyed man crouched beside him, resting two fingers against Zion's neck.

"Still alive," he muttered. "Barely."

He stood up again, staring at Zion expressionlessly.

"Now what do I do with you?" he mumbled, scratching his mechanical eyepatch.

A soft hum sounded as the eyepatch adjusted, layers of data flashing across its surface.

'Energy practically depleted, littered with wounds, lost a lot of blood…'

Suddenly, he stopped.

Everything around him fell silent.

That's when he heard it.

'Footsteps.'

Three energy signatures appeared at the edge of his vision, rapidly approaching from the main road.

The one-eyed man sighed. "So they really are crawling all over this place."

The three soldiers rounded the corner, weapons already drawn, scanning the destruction with alarm.

"What the hell happened here—"

The one-eyed man moved instantly.

The first soldier dropped without a sound, his neck twisted at an impossible angle. The second barely managed to raise his rifle before something pierced straight through his visor, punching out the back of his helmet.

The third turned to run but only made it one step.

A dull crack echoed as his spine shattered.

He collapsed face-first onto the floor, his last breath escaping as a dagger pierced the back of his skull a moment later.

Silence fell once more as the one-eyed man stood up, wiping his dagger clean with a cloth.

"Well then," he said, chuckling as the dagger merged with his body again. "I might as well take you now."

The one-eyed man approached Zion with a wide grin. "It'd be nice if someone as talented as you owed me a favor anyway."

He slipped an arm under Zion's shoulders and lifted him with ease, slinging him over his back.

A red visor slid in front of his mechanical eyepatch, revealing several heat signatures dashing in the distance.

"Let's get you out of here now."

The one-eyed man kicked off the ground, the street beneath him cracking as his body shot forward.

Buildings blurred past as he moved through narrow alleys and streets, his steps steady despite the dead weight on his back. Zion didn't stir at all, his head hanging limply as blood continued to seep through his torn armor and shattered scales.

The one-eyed man glanced back once from atop a roof and saw dozens of golden-white armors swarming the slums.

"Tch," he muttered, shaking his head. "So persistent."

With that, he turned his head and dashed away at full speed, the sirens behind him growing weaker with each step he took.

Days blurred together as Zion remained unconscious.

Finally, he stirred, his eyelids twitching as his body tensed.

"Easy," a childlike voice said sweetly. "You're in pretty bad shape."

Hearing the voice, Zion slowly forced his eyes open, only to find himself beneath an unfamiliar white roof covered in intricate markings.

His throat felt dry as sand as he tried to speak.

"Where… am I?"

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