Ethan's muscles ached, but he felt a calm intensity guiding each movement. His training had honed his reflexes, fortified his endurance, and increased his pain tolerance, allowing him to push past the discomfort. His pain now a distant sensation he barely acknowledged. Xelthar's massive power armor sparked along the edges, bearing the signs of the relentless assault Ethan had launched on every weak point he'd been able to find. Yet, Xelthar's energy fields still pulsed with each step, hinting at the remaining power within the warlord's formidable armor.
Xelthar's voice crackled through his helmet's speakers, thick with anger and disbelief. "How… are you still standing?" His taunts had morphed into frustrated disbelief as his attacks grew desperate, their usual precision slipping as he tried, in vain, to crush the mercenary who had slipped through all his defenses.
"Still too slow," Ethan muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed and vigilant even as Xelthar charged.
With a roar, Xelthar triggered the shockwave generator embedded in his armor, sending another pulse of energy crashing into Ethan's chest. But this time, Ethan's stance held firm, his legs absorbing the impact that would have sent him flying days ago. He gritted his teeth as the shock reverberated through his body, his HUD flashing warnings of the strain, but he brushed them aside. His mind was anchored in the urgency of the fight, the vision of Lyra urging him onward.
Xelthar's frustration was palpable, radiating through every furious movement. "You think you're special?" he sneered, his voice laced with malice. "This armor has crushed entire legions, and here you are, clinging to life by a thread."
Ethan ignored the taunts, his focus razor-sharp. He moved in again, studying the armor, looking for any weakness he hadn't yet exploited. As Xelthar pivoted to follow Ethan's movements, a flicker in the energy fields around the shoulder joint caught Ethan's eye. The armor was built for strength, but Ethan's targeted attacks had started to wear down the delicate mechanisms controlling its defenses.
Seizing the opportunity, Ethan lunged forward, plasma dagger in hand, and drove it into the weakened joint. Sparks flew as the blade sank in, sending a surge of electrical feedback through Xelthar's armor. The warlord's left arm faltered, his exoskeleton hissing and sputtering, and Ethan wasted no time, shifting his grip and twisting the blade deeper to destabilize the mechanisms inside.
Xelthar's composure cracked, his roar filling the room. "You pest!" he bellowed, swinging his right arm in a wide arc. Ethan dodged, slipping just out of reach as the massive arm crashed down, leaving a dent in the metal floor. Smaller hits glanced off Ethan's armor, but he barely flinched, his endurance holding him steady.
Each blow was a reminder of how far he'd come, and how much his training had paid off. The pain he felt was real, but it was just another reminder he was still standing.
The battle grew fiercer, Xelthar's movements becoming erratic and wild. The warlord's curses and threats filled the room, his armor sparking and hissing with each failed strike. Ethan could sense the desperation in Xelthar's attacks, a sign that the once-proud leader of the compound was slipping, fear gnawing at him.
Xelthar staggered back, fury and disbelief clear in his posture. "Enough!" he shouted, his voice breaking as he stumbled. "You're nothing but a nuisance, and I will crush you for this."
Ethan held his ground, catching his breath as he prepared for Xelthar's next attack. The warlord's once-confident aura had faded, replaced by a raw, animalistic fury. With a guttural roar, Xelthar charged forward, his form a massive blur of steel and energy as he tried to overpower Ethan with sheer brute force.
But Ethan saw it coming. He sidestepped Xelthar's desperate charge, positioning himself perfectly as he brought his plasma dagger up in a precise, practiced motion. With a final burst of energy, he drove the blade straight into a seam in Xelthar's chest plate, the plasma dagger piercing through layers of metal, circuitry, and the fragile heart of the armor.
Xelthar gasped, his body convulsing as sparks erupted from the damaged suit. His hands twitched as he tried to reach for the blade, his strength fading with each second as the realization of his defeat washed over him.
"You… insignificant… wretch…" Xelthar choked out, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes fixed on Ethan in one last glare. But there was no strength left in his gaze, only the hollow remnants of fury and disbelief.
Ethan withdrew the dagger, taking a step back as he watched Xelthar's form collapse. The warlord's armor hit the floor with a heavy clank, his body lifeless inside the once-powerful shell. The terror that had controlled this compound, the one who had commanded fear across the region, lay still and silent.
For a brief moment, Ethan felt the weight of the victory settle on him. But there was no triumph in it, no satisfaction. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling as he looked down at his defeated enemy, yet all he could think of was Lyra.
Her face flashed in his mind, her last words urging him to finish the mission. He had done that, but now the urgency returned, sharper and more desperate. She was still somewhere in the compound, and he had no time to lose.
He didn't spare Xelthar another glance as he turned and sprinted from the room, the echo of his boots swallowed up by the compound's thick silence. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs, and his body ached from the fight, but he forced himself into overdrive, his training carrying him forward.
As he ran, the compound's lights flickered, an ominous reminder of the destabilized power systems. The hum of failing energy fields reverberated through the walls, casting shadows that danced in the flickering lights. The impact of every step jolted his tired muscles, yet he pushed on, the hope of finding Lyra spurring him forward.
The distance to Lyra's position seemed impossibly long. He barely registered the flashes of warning on his HUD, his mind a blur of desperation and determination.
"Hold on, Lyra," he whispered under his breath, his voice hoarse but resolute.
As he advanced, the hum of the still-active mind-control transmitter grew louder, its effects muted for him but clearly pulsing through the compound. He ignored it, focusing solely on getting back to her. Every footfall echoed around him, each sound heightening the tension as he pushed himself to his limits.
Memories of their past conversations flashed through his mind. Lyra's sharp wit, her unbreakable spirit, and the way she had always faced danger head-on. The thought of finding her hurt, or worse, spurred him on with renewed purpose. He would not let her down, not after all they had been through.
Finally, as he approached the hallway where he had last seen her, he slowed, his breath steady but strained. He forced down the dread that gnawed at him, fighting to keep his focus sharp. She had to be here, waiting, alive.
In the distance, he could see the figure lying motionless on the cold metal floor, the dim light casting a faint glow around her. His heart tightened as he took the final steps toward her, every part of him praying he wasn't too late.