Twisted!

"What the hell? Left to me again?!" Sitting in the cockpit of his Thunderbolt fighter, Luo Yu wore a look of utter bewilderment. He glanced sideways at the skyscraper smothered in crimson matter, a crawling numbness prickling across his scalp. That stuff had to be creep, right? How the hell could the Legion deploy something as insane as mutant slime mold on the battlefield?! Evidently, they had used the consensus of the Slime Mold Consortium as toilet paper. Or perhaps it was just like the Southern Legion's excuse regarding that ancient pact—Julius had signed it, and none of them had been present. "Xiao Yu... does your ability work on that thing?" "Ee-woo!" *We can try!* "All right..." Luo Yu took a deep breath. Gripping the flight stick, he slammed his left foot down on the rudder to veer around, aligning his autocannon with the tower currently being devoured by the unspeakable horror, and then mashed down hard on the firing stud with his thumb. *Brrrttt—!* Accompanied by a sharp, deafening roar, over a thousand rounds of 20mm aircraft cannon ammunition emptied in an instant! Faced with the sudden eruption of firepower, the crimson vines crawling toward the rooftop were blasted open and mangled, momentarily grinding their upward advance to a halt. The crimson mass of flesh quickly pinpointed where the attack had originated. Tendrils primed like loaded catapults shot into the sky like artillery shells, intercepting the Thunderbolt! Taking advantage of the moment his ride drew all the aggro, the corner of Luo Yu's mouth curled into a satisfied smirk. He caught the pull ring beneath his seat with his right hand and yanked upward with all his might. A few sharp pops detonated, and he was flung out of the blown canopy, seat and all. At the same time, his fighter hurtled forward without losing an ounce of momentum, ramming straight toward the broodmother that was attempting to swallow the skyscraper whole! Naturally, the broodmother had no intention of letting that lump of iron crash into its head. True to expectation, tendrils swept out like an arrestor net, wrapping around the Thunderbolt. Yet what the broodmother could not know was that the cockpit had long been packed full of Xiao Yu's fruiting bodies! Those fruiting bodies were just like Luo Yu's avatars, possessing almost the entirety of his piloting experience, capable even of mimicking a facsimile of him inside the cockpit! Relying on this bizarre ability, even though he had severed himself from the cockpit and was hanging under a parachute, he could still guide the aircraft's flight over the comm channel. Of course, now that it had successfully made contact with the broodmother, that was no longer necessary. The Thunderbolt packed with fruiting bodies was his Trojan horse! "I'm counting on you, Xiao Yu!" Dangling beneath his parachute, Luo Yu stared fixedly at the aircraft ensnared by tendrils, silently cheering Xiao Yu on. Right then, a chirping squeak suddenly came over the comms. "Ee-woo!" *Something's weird. It doesn't seem to be a broodmother!* Not a broodmother? Luo Yu froze completely, staring in disbelief at the seething mountain of creep in the distance. Then what in the world was it? In the brief moment he hesitated, his ride was crumpled into a crushed soda can by the coiling tendrils. Explosive flames erupted as the detonating batteries shredded the tendrils wrapping around the aircraft, but those scattered sparks quickly vanished into the night wind. Dangling in midair, Luo Yu was utterly dumbfounded—especially when he saw those tendrils pivot and come whipping straight toward him. This bastard wasn't a broodmother?! "Fuck me—!" ... In an estate not far from the World Tower, Augustus, the Chief of General Staff of the Southern Legion, joined his wife in preparing a final supper for their children using their remaining canned rations. Though it consisted only of sardines, minced meat, and buttered oysters, the cans at least carried the labels of privileged provisions. Having dripped pre-prepared cyanide into the children's vegetable juice and the red wine meant for himself and his wife, he carefully tied the napkin around his collar with trembling fingers, preserving a final shred of dignity. With all preparations complete, he looked at his innocent, curious children. Swallowing the agony in his heart, he cleared his throat and spoke in a solemn, low voice, as though addressing an assembly of ten thousand. "Let us raise our glasses to the esteemed Marshal Julius, to the invincible Legion, and to the honor of the Wilante..." Everything would end tonight. With that, he raised his glass and lightly clinked it against his wife's. The children followed suit, babbling and piping "cheers" before giggling, picking up their delicious vegetable juice, and drinking it down. There was not the slightest trace of pain in the process. For these young lives, perhaps this was the greatest mercy; they would not have to endure a long life burdened by guilt... Yet perhaps this tragic fate had never truly existed, forced upon them just like their fathers' mad ambitions. Watching the children slump forward asleep on the table, a flicker of anguish crossed his wife's face, but she forced herself to compose her features once more. Tipping her head back, she drained the red wine in her glass. With a soft thud, she collapsed against the table, never to wake again. Relief, at last. She did not wish to spend another moment in this world. Seeing his family die before him one after another, Augustus's composure shattered. His face twisted in agony, and the hand holding the wine glass trembled uncontrollably. "I brought this upon you..." If only he had stopped Tyr back then... If only he had done something, perhaps their family would be vacationing on the beaches of Batoya Province right now. Yet regrets came far too late. The victory at West Sail Port had gone to too many heads. Officers young and old had believed without a shred of doubt that Enterprise was in decline, powerless to enforce that ancient pact, especially when the Brahma standing before them were so utterly inept. Augustus brought the glass to his lips, preparing to drain it in one gulp and bring an end to all this torment. Right then, a deafening rumble and a deep, guttural roar echoed from outside the window. He froze, stepped to the window, and pulled back the curtains. There stood the landmark of Avent City—the alloy skyscraper forged of metal—now encased in rolling masses of flesh-red matter. The thing seemed alive, writhing under the glow of the night lights, bellowing an ugly, defiant cry toward the sky. *Groooowl—!* It roared once more. Every cell across its entire body seemed to ripple, surging like rolling ocean waves. Augustus's eyes widened, his face etched with disbelief and blank shock. He had returned from that building not long ago... Barring any surprises, the esteemed Legion Commander Tyr should be right there—on the sixty-eighth floor. "Lord... Tyr?" He mumbled in dazed confusion as several fighter jets streaked across the sky. The Alliance seemed to have noticed the anomaly with the tower. Vertical takeoff and landing aircraft trailing plasma plumes breached the anti-air cordon at low altitude, closing in rapidly on the World Tower. "...What in the world is that?" That hideous beast... He knew doomsday weapons were stored inside that skyscraper, but he had never known Tyr held such a grotesque trump card in his hand. It could no longer be called a human form; it was like a pustule squeezing out from the earth's crust. Augustus stumbled back two steps, his spirit drained. In the end, he closed his eyes in despair and yanked the curtains shut. Julius above... What on earth had they done?! Whether it was Tyr, himself, or the myriarchs who supported him... Did they really have to turn the Wilante from humans into cockroaches? He drained the red wine in his glass and slumped to his knees beside the dining table. Looking at his dead wife and children, he finally awoke in the final moments of his life, jolted out of the nightmare. He used what little time remained to repent. "Forgive your children, Marshal Julius... We have failed you." "It is we... the Southern Legion... who are unworthy of the Wilante..." ... *Groooowl—!* The deep, drawn-out bellow shattered the storm clouds, rolling out like the song of a deep-sea leviathan. Hearing that deafening sound, the Southern Legion soldiers fighting on the front lines halted in unison, looking back at the rolling mass of flesh behind them. Hideousness was embodied to the absolute fullest in that moment, alongside unspeakable distortion and chaos. Stunned disbelief covered face after face. They could not believe that right behind them, in their homeland, at their launching grounds... Such a twisted beast had sprouted. "A demon..." A trembling panic was mirrored in wide, shaken eyes. A battle-hardened veteran took an involuntary step back, his resolve to fight to the bitter end wavering for the first time. What had he been fighting for all this time? Or could it be... That was what they were. Cold sweat soaked through his back as understanding struck, agony contorting his features. Not far from him, in another trench, recruits who had received less than half a month of military training wore expressions of equal shock. "Fuck... what the hell is that?!" "An Alliance biological weapon?!" Flesh-red tendrils continued stretching upward, like vines climbing toward the sky. A grayish-yellow mist drifted outward, like a tree canopy bursting suddenly into bloom. Yet what was even more terrifying was that its base was spreading into the surroundings as well. Tangled tendrils rolled across the streets like a sweeping torrent, harvesting every life they fixed upon without distinction—whether human, rat, or cockroach. *Perish—* *Inferior race.* The rolling cloud of spores hummed a soundless murmur, blending furious rage into that voiceless slaughter. Soldiers shrank back in terror or fired their rifles in futile resistance, trying to hold back the tidal advance of those tendrils. That... had to be a mutant slime mold broodmother?! But why was it here?! That terrifying entity far surpassed the comprehension and understanding of the soldiers on the field. Though scattered mutant slime mold broodmothers existed in Batoya Province and the fringes of the Great Desert under Southern Legion control, they were largely distributed in remote pre-war ruins and wilderness. In the space of a single breath, a crimson tendril lashed out at a soldier, impaling him and flinging him dozens of meters into the air amidst his screams, then cleaving him in two with a crushing strike, turning him into a spray of shredded meat and bloody rain! Hunkered behind cover, the soldiers stared in utter horror, at a total loss for how to fight such a monstrous thing. Just as that tide was about to sweep over them, a Chimera armored vehicle burst out from the side. The soldiers shrank back into their foxholes, listening to the *thump-thump-thump* of the 37mm autocannon booming right above their heads. However, those lethal armor-piercing incendiary shells did not fall into their trench. A recruit shakily pulled out a Panzerfaust rocket launcher, pulling the safety pin to attack, but his officer grabbed him by the shoulder. Out on the street in the distance, thick, blazing tracers ripped into the surging tendrils, actually beating back the furious surge and keeping the crimson tendrils at bay. At that moment, a deafening bellow burst through the loudspeaker right above the Southern Legion soldiers' heads. "What are you waiting for?! That thing is butchering your compatriots! Do your enemies really have to teach you how to shoot?!" The words jolted everyone awake like a splash of cold water, including the centurion holding the rocket launcher. Though they did not know what those crimson tendrils and the meat encasing the World Tower were, at least one thing was undeniable— That thing fed on Wilante flesh! "All units, attention! Ceasefire for now! Aim your weapons at that monster!" The centuries scattered across the ruins regained their morale. Though their formations had been shattered, they rallied their ranks once more. "Roaaar!!" The same scene played out across streets throughout Avent City. Though the clash between the Southern Legion and the Alliance had not ended, because of that unspeakable demon, several units pivoted their weapons, tacitly turning to deal with the common enemy first... Meanwhile, in the distant Great Rift Valley, the Chief seated in the conference room let out a faint, quiet sigh. "History repeats itself once again..." Everything that had happened two hundred years ago could be summarized the same way: both sides, seeing red, had simultaneously pressed the world-ending button. The only comforting thought was that this time, at least, it was no longer a downward spiral. Probably... ... On the front lines of Avent City. Directing the battle, Myriarch Baldwin stared in utter disbelief, his eyes fixed on the skyscraper known as the World Tower. What was... that thing? More and more things defied comprehension. Perhaps from the moment the Death Agent project began, he should have realized that Tyr was a complete madman whose ambition would kill them all! Reports continuously poured in over the phone from the rear—the logistics troops stationed near Avent City had taken devastating casualties! Just then, his adjutant jogged over from the side, sweating profusely, not even having time to salute. "Sir, Alliance air forces are pushing toward our rear!" A flicker of struggle passed through Baldwin's eyes. Two seconds later, he made up his mind. "Let them pass!" The adjutant stared at him in astonishment. "But—" Baldwin stared hard into his eyes, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Do as I say!" Seeing that he was deadly serious, the adjutant caught his breath, bit his lip, saluted, and turned to carry out the order. Watching his adjutant leave, Baldwin turned toward the operations map, all his emotions condensing into a long sigh. They had already lost... Perhaps he should have realized it sooner, but it was too late for that now. At the very least, he had to stop that ballooning monster. Otherwise, not only would Marshal Julius's glory and a century of the Southern Legion's legacy be reduced to rubble beneath its rampage, but every Wilante in the city would be dragged down into the grave with it. As he issued the order, Baldwin phoned the captains of the nearby ironclad airships, relaying the situation on the ground to each of them. "The unknown organic lifeform spreading from the World Tower is indiscriminately attacking our compatriots! Both our soldiers and our civilians! We must cease fire immediately! Before it is too late!" Some hung up on him immediately, some cursed him as a traitor, but others took his words to heart, expressing disbelief and questioning whether this might be an Alliance plot. That possibility could not be ruled out entirely. Yet for an Alliance on the verge of victory, employing sensitive biological weapons was both high-risk and utterly unprofitable. When combined with Tyr's ruthless, unhinged track record, the truth required little guesswork. Without a doubt— This was another one of his reckless "trump cards." And just like before, Tyr had bungled it completely, letting everything spiral out of control. Several airship captains tried to contact higher headquarters, but high command was in absolute chaos. Not only had Legion Commander Tyr vanished without a trace, but even Augustus, their Chief of General Staff, was nowhere to be found. The Southern Legion's chain of command had collapsed, and some finally grasped the severity of the crisis. Three of the eight remaining ironclad airships raised white flags, a number that quickly rose to five. Two of them, under Baldwin's orders, even swiveled their 100mm guns, aiming them straight at the rampaging, spreading "broodmother." This action completely enraged the beast. Having exercised a degree of restraint before, it went completely berserk, sweeping the low-hovering airships into its strike envelope and forcing them to haul in their anchor chains and pull back from the World Tower. The Alliance's anti-air units did not fire on these airships, even though the phase cannon on the suburban train had already locked onto them. The top priority right now was eliminating that berserk unknown lifeform! At the same time, inside a Viper transport hovering over the center of Avent City, Jieyan snapped his eyes open and turned urgently to Lao Bai, who sat beside him. "Luo Yu just posted on the forums... He says that thing isn't a broodmother!" Lao Bai froze. "Not a broodmother?! Then what the fuck is it?" Jieyan shook his head, speaking rapidly. "Don't know... He only said it wasn't a broodmother, not that it wasn't mutant slime mold. Xiao Yu can't figure out what it is either—says it feels like a fruiting body with independent consciousness... Dammit, his explanation is an absolute mess anyway! He said the only way to devour it is to destroy the brain hidden inside that pile of crap!" Lao Bai stared at him intently. "So there is a way to devour it?" Jieyan swallowed hard and nodded hurriedly. "Fifty-fifty chance... supposedly according to Xiao Yu." "Bottom line: that thing is something none of us have ever seen before." Killing Dagger's expression was grim as he cursed under his breath. "Dammit... We might have to get the data inside the World Tower before we can figure out what the hell this is." Get the data inside the World Tower... Jieyan glanced out the cabin at the skyscraper blanketed in flesh-red creep, feeling his scalp tingle. "How the fuck do we even get in?" "Have you guys figured out what to do yet?! This thing has too many arms! I can't hold them off!" Squatting by the cabin door, Kidney Fighter gripped the 40mm mounted grenade launcher with both hands, spraying rounds into the tendrils stabbing toward the transport. Against high-explosive grenades packed with metallic hydrogen, the thick tendrils were blown apart one after another, yet there was no stopping the sheer volume surging up in waves! The pilot relied on superb maneuvering to dodge left and right, but this was no long-term solution. Thoughts raced through Lao Bai's mind. Just then, Fang Chang's voice came through the comm channel. "The Southern Legion's 200th Myriad has surrendered. Lao Bai, do you copy?" Lao Bai grinned. "Copy that. They surrendered? So our ground forces can push in?" Fang Chang said gravely, "That's the idea, but you've seen the front line. Pushing ground forces all the way through is practically impossible. Even if they made it, the casualties would be too severe—" Lao Bai cut in, "Cut the crap, hurry it up and tell me what the plan is!" Hearing Lao Bai's urgency, Fang Chang answered without hesitation. "Same as back in Qingquan City—jump in and take the fight to them!" Lao Bai paused. "Jump... down?" Fang Chang did not explain further, speaking with resolute conviction. "According to intel from Myriarch Baldwin, Tyr should be... no, he is on the sixty-eighth floor." The moment his voice fell, a column of white smoke streaked across the sky above Avent City, striking the midsection of the World Tower dead-on! It was an anti-ship cruise missile launched from the cruiser Harpoon of the South Sea Alliance! A flash of white light instantly burned through the crimson creep and the alloy walls beneath it, a deafening explosion carrying a shockwave that blasted high into the clouds! The tentacle-flailing "demon" let out a shrill cry of pain, and the wound blasted open by the cruise missile began healing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The second the missile hit, Fang Chang's voice crackled through the comms. "Now! Move!" With no time to hesitate, Lao Bai seized the back of the pilot's seat and roared forward, "Close in on the center of the explosion! Fast!" Though his heart pounded with tension, the pilot gritted his teeth and complied. Dodging and weaving past lunging tendrils, he used the cover of the explosive smoke to push in close to the impact zone. Deep red tendrils were already stitching across the breach, the monster deliberately dragging structural metal from inside the building to plug the open hole. Squatting by the door, Kidney Fighter certainly had no intention of giving it the chance. He let out a howling war cry, popped a buff on his grenade launcher, and let loose a volley of high-explosive shells, blasting the tendrils into scattered chunks! The gruesome wound was blown wide open again, exposing the uncorrupted interior framework of the World Tower! *Groooowl—!* A bellow of agony tore out once more, rattling the cockpit glass. "We can't stay here long!" the pilot yelled through gritted teeth, straining to hold the craft in a hover. "This is as close as I can get—" Before he could finish, Lao Bai, clad in Dragoon power armor, took a three-step running leap and jumped toward the exposed breach. A waiting tendril lunged to intercept, but before it could touch the edge of the armor, a volley of high-explosive grenades shredded it into pulp. "Lao Bai! I've got your back!" Kidney Fighter shouted excitedly from the edge of the cabin. Simultaneously, Lao Bai's boots slammed down onto the floor of the World Tower's sixty-eighth level. The crimson creep was crushed to paste beneath his steel plating. A glowing thermal cutting axe slid effortlessly into his grip. At the same time, with a crisp mechanical snap, the wrist-thick bolter in his other hand chambered a round. A tendril struck at him from a corner of the room like lightning, but before it could close to within ten meters, a high-explosive round blew it to bits! The bolter was not limited to standard bolts. Boulder Armaments had long addressed the minimum arming distance issue by designing a line of anti-infantry rounds with zero safe arming distance specifically for this weapon. And these specialized rounds were just as lethal in tight quarters! "Yeah, thanks... Leave the rest to me. You guys pull back." The breach was sealing behind him, the remaining gap no longer wide enough for a second person to enter— Unless another anti-ship missile struck. Yet that was no longer necessary. Lao Bai could sense that powerful presence right here, on this very floor, not far from where he stood. There was not a shred of fear in his heart. As the highest-ranking player in combat power across the entire server, he was confident he could defeat any opponent standing before him in a one-on-one duel. Even an opponent he had never faced before— The one who should be afraid was not him, but it! "Come on out, Tyr. It has to be you... Let me see just how much of that power you've actually mastered." Severing three tendrils attacking him in rapid succession, Lao Bai swung his thermal cutting axe and strode with broad steps toward the damaged laboratory blast doors. Standing deep inside the sixty-eighth-floor laboratory, Tyr's closed eyes twitched slightly, his grotesque face instantly twisting like a boiling swamp. He truly had not fully mastered the power in his hands. For instance, at this very moment, he could not easily multitask between wiping out the traitors and Alliance soldiers outside while focusing his attention on this little fly buzzing right under his nose. Yet if this fly arrogantly believed that a being akin to a god could not crush it, that was a laughably pathetic delusion. To him, it was nothing more than squashing a bug! "Who gave you permission to stand here—" Before his words could land, an alloy door panel severed in two hurtled toward him like an artillery shell. Caught off guard, Tyr had no choice but to dodge aside. Yet when he looked up again, the man clad in steel armor and gripping a short axe already stood right before him, a blazing light burning along the axe's unsharpened edge. "Nobody asked for your permission." "I came in on my own!"