Tumbling across the sand, Messimah rolled uncontrollably for several feet, his mind struggling to piece together what had just happened.
The only clear thought cutting through the chaos was the explosion—the violent burst that followed Trumm's collision with Gola's bike.
When he finally came to a stop, the air was thick with smoke.
In the distance, parts of the bikes burned fiercely, their flames licking at the desert sky.
"No…" Messimah whispered, his voice barely audible.
A flood of emotions overwhelmed him—pain, anguish, and a crushing sense of loss he hadn't felt in years.
Each breath grew harder, as though the weight of it all was choking him.
Messimah's chest tightened, his mind clouded with grief.
Desperately, he tried to move, but his legs were pinned beneath the weight of his bike.
Fortunately, the skeletal bionic suit he wore had absorbed most of the impact, leaving his bones intact, but other parts of his body were riddles with bloodied marks.
Summoning all his strength, he shoved the bike off his legs and staggered to his feet.
He ran toward the fire, his steps fueled by sheer desperation.
"Don't bother," A voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks.
Messimah's instincts flared, and alarms seemed to blare in his mind.
Without thinking, he dove to the side, narrowly avoiding something that struck the ground where he'd just stood.
Turning to look, he saw it—a thin, ominous javelin embedded in the sand. Its smooth form glinted in the dim light, and Messimah estimated it was taller than he was.
Scanning his surroundings, he felt a presence—a menacing weight pressing down on him. His eyes darted frantically, but the desert seemed empty.
Messimah couldn't help but wonder if he was losing his mind.
As if in answer to his question, a figure materialized out of the void. No, it wasn't magic—it was as though the figure had been hiding behind a curtain—an illusion, choosing now to reveal himself.
It was the Federation Officer.
Clad in a gleaming grey Nano-tech suit, the officer strode forward with deliberate steps, his boots crunching softly against the sand.
The suit's design exuded authority and menace, its tightly fitted structure looking like a second skin. The tinted visor concealed the wearer's face, amplifying the air of intimidation.
Messimah stood frozen, his emotions momentarily silenced by the suffocating presence of this man. The officer's arrival was unlike anything he'd ever experienced—an overwhelming pressure that weighed on him, both physically and psychological.
The officer's very existence seemed to command fear, and Messimah couldn't shake the image of him stepping out of thin air.
His mind struggled to comprehend it, but no answers came.
"Who are you?" Messimah demanded, his voice strained under the crushing weight of the Federation Officer's presence. The oppressive aura made it hard to breathe, let alone focus.
The Federation Officer ignored the question, his gaze drifting to the site of the explosion. "I hadn't planned on killing the sniper boy this way," He said, his tone devoid of emotion.
"But it seems he was more talented than any of us anticipated. Even under my influence, he managed to glimpse the truth. Unfortunately, his recklessness led to his demise—trying to save his friend, only to die alongside him."
As the officer's words sank in, Messimah's mind raced, piecing together the fragments of what had just occurred.
This wasn't an accident.
The man standing before him had orchestrated it all, targeting Gola first.
Trumm, realizing the danger, had tried to intervene—only to fall victim to the officer's scheme.
Rage surged through Messimah like a tidal wave, obliterating his fear and grief.
"Arrghh!" He roared, breaking free from the suffocating pressure.
Fueled by fury, Messimah charged at the Federation Officer, his eyes blazing red with unbridled rage.
Messimah drew his modified pistols in a flash, firing shot after shot at the man. The bullets struck the Nano-tech suit but ricocheted harmlessly off its reinforced plates.
"Such weapons are useless against my suit," The officer remarked, his voice calm and indifferent. "Stop this futile tantrum."
Messimah gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting.
The man's dismissive attitude only fed his wrath. He needed to try something else.
Relying on the skeletal bionic suit that shielded him, Messimah closed the distance, drawing his rifle. With trembling hands fueled by rage, he pointed it directly at the officer's visor—the weakest point of the suit—and screamed;
"Die! Die! Die!"
He fired three successive shots, each round an armor-piercing bullet meant to shatter steel.
But the officer was prepared.
Moving with inhuman precision, he intercepted the bullets with his palm, absorbing the force of the shots. Though the impacts left shallow dents in the Nano-tech suit, the officer remained unharmed.
"You won't break through my visor that easily," The officer said, his tone edged with faint annoyance.
Messimah barely had time to react as the officer retaliated with a devastating kick aimed at his abdomen. Acting on pure instinct, Messimah lowered his rifle, using it to absorb some of the blow.
Even so, the force of the kick launched him into the air. He crashed onto the ground, rolling several feet before coming to a painful stop.
Messimah's hands throbbed, the impact leaving them numb. He could feel the sharp pain of fractured ribs, but adrenaline and rage dulled the worst of it.
None of it mattered.
His pain, his injuries—they were irrelevant. All that consumed him now was the overwhelming need to kill the man responsible for his friends' deaths.
Even the rifle in Messimah's hands had bent under the force of the Federation Officer's kick, absorbing most of the impact and saving him from graver injuries.
Though his mind was clouded by rage and pain, Messimah's determination burned brighter. Biting down on his lower lip to stifle the searing pain, he forced himself back onto his feet. His eyes locked onto the javelin embedded in the sand—the same weapon the officer had hurled at him earlier.
Staggering towards it, Messimah gripped the javelin and yanked it free.
The weight of the weapon shocked him.
It felt impossibly heavy for its thin design, so much so that the skeletal bionic frame of his suit groaned and clanked, struggling to compensate for the burden.
"Oh, with that, you certainly stand a better chance of harming me," The Federation Officer said, his voice dripping with mockery. "But are you skilled enough to wield it?"
The taunt fanned Messimah's fury. He had never been humiliated like this—his pain so openly ridiculed.
Gritting his teeth, Messimah charged at the officer once more.
He wielded the javelin in one hand and fired his pistol with the other, despite knowing the bullets wouldn't penetrate the suit.
The added weight of the javelin slowed him, but he pressed on, his anger giving him strength. As he neared, the pistol clicked—empty. Without hesitation, Messimah hurled it at the officer, freeing his other hand to grip the javelin.
With both hands on the weapon, his movements became more fluid. His speed increased as he closed the distance.
"Arrgh!" Messimah roared, thrusting the javelin with all his might, aiming to pierce the officer's chest.
But the Federation Officer moved with the ease of someone unbothered by his opponent's desperation. He sidestepped the strike effortlessly, reaching out to snatch the javelin from Messimah's grip.
Messimah, however, had anticipated this.
Pivoting swiftly, he pressed the javelin's tip downward, its immense weight aiding him in dodging the officer's grasp. The tip sank into the sand with a dull thud, burying itself several inches deep.
Before the officer could react, Messimah yanked the javelin upward, sending a spray of sand into the air. The grains scattered towards the officer's helmet, obscuring his vision momentarily.
It wasn't much, but it was an opening—one Messimah desperately needed…
Or so he thought.
Messimah was oblivious to the capabilities of the Federation Officer's Nano-tech suit, unaware that the sand spray hadn't hindered the officer's vision in the slightest.
As Messimah thrust the javelin at the visor of the officer's helmet, the weapon's momentum was abruptly halted—the officer had caught it with ease.
Before Messimah could react, the officer's other hand delivered a devastating punch. Instinctively, Messimah released the javelin and crossed his arms in front of his face to block the blow.
The impact launched Messimah into the air, sending him crashing into the desert sand once more.
This time, a metallic taste filled his mouth before he coughed up a mouthful of blood, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.
Even though his skeletal bionic suit had absorbed much of the punch's force, it wasn't enough to leave him unscathed. The frames around his arms groaned, visibly deformed from the blow, their structural integrity compromised.
Messimah began soon lost the feel of his hands.
"If you and your friends had simply obeyed the broadcast and stayed indoors, they'd still be alive," The officer said calmly, his voice laced with cold detachment.
"But no—you chose to rebel. You caught the eye of a commander, and that's a problem. In my book, talented individuals—especially from backwater places like this—don't belong in his hands. It's your fault for displaying too much bravery."
The words pierced Messimah like daggers.
I should've been the one to go first.
Messimah thought, a wave of guilt crashing over him. But self-pity wasn't in his nature, so he quickly shook it off.
I need to get that javelin back.
Gritting his teeth, he focused on the task at hand.
"I understand your anger," The officer continued.
"Shut up!" Messimah shouted, his voice hoarse.
"But you must understand," The officer pressed, his tone unwavering, "This world is for the powerful. To them, the weak are no different from raw materials—just like your friends—"
"Shut up, you fucking bastard!"
The officer paused for a moment, his gaze unreadable behind the metal of his helmet. Finally, he tossed the javelin back toward Messimah.
The weapon landed heavily in the sand, just a few feet before him.
"Struggle some more... until you can't anymore," The officer said, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. "Maybe then you'll accept your fate."
Messimah stared at the javelin, a storm of emotions brewing within him.
Anger.
Helplessness.
Inferiority—something he rarely felt.
These emotions coalesced into a blinding rage, igniting a new surge of adrenaline.
"You're going to regret this!" Messimah bellowed as he grabbed the javelin and charged again, his eyes blazing with fury…