The team marched forward, tension building with every step toward the distant, shifting haze of wings.

  The buzz was faint at first, only a tremor in the air, but it grew steadily as they advanced. Bash watched

  the swarm closely, the subtle oscillation of their flight pattern, the way they rippled in long waves

  across the grey horizon. Every instinct in him screamed danger for the team.

  Five minutes in, Garret raised his fist.

  The team halted.

  Garret waited for them to gather around him, breathing hard as if he were preparing for some heroic

  proclamation.

  “Here is the plan,” he said. “Bryn, Nixon, and I go in first. We form a triangle back to back to back.

  Nothing can hit us from behind. Myr, you know what to do. Keep us alive. Mirran, Cerny, drop

  anything that gets close. Simple.”

  He turned his glare toward Bash.

  “You stay out of it.”

  Bash nodded calmly. “Will do. But when you are ready, just call for help.”

  Garret’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled into a fist. He spun around and muttered loudly enough for

  everyone to hear.

  “You are not worth my energy.”

  The insult hung in the air, sour and petty.

  The team moved ahead, spreading into formation. Bryn, Garret, and Nixon moved ten meters ahead of

  Myr. Myr kept ten meters of space between himself and the backline where Cerny and Mirran

  positioned themselves. Bash followed just behind them, keeping silent, watching everything.

  The swarm had not noticed them yet.

  A thick, undulating cloud of winged bodies hovered and drifted near a large mound. Hundreds of beelike creatures zipped around the nest entrance. Although distant, their synchronized movement was

  unnatural, almost hypnotic.

  When the melee trio reached within twenty-five meters, the swarm stopped drifting.

  It paused.

  Then, as one, it turned.

  Perfect synchronization.

  Then the entire cloud surged toward them.

  “Contact!” Myr shouted.

  Cerny and Mirran opened fire instantly. Arrows streaked through the air in rapid volleys, windenhanced and deadly. Mirran’s bullets roared out of her rifle in a continuous stream, glowing faintly

  with fire affinity as they ignited the air around them.

  The first wave of insects slammed into Garret, Bryn, and Nixon in a chaotic rush. Their formation held

  steady for the first impact, blades and shield cleaving insect bodies from the air. Blue-green ichor

  sprayed in all directions.

  Bash watched their movements closely.

  SC spoke calmly in his mind.

  “These insectoids are wind affinity, registered T1G. But based on the damage they are absorbing from

  Mirran and Cerny and the melee fighters, they are operating at T1S thresholds.”

  “No surprise,” Bash murmured.

  The melee trio slashed and struck with everything they had. Bryn’s mineral-coated blades carved

  glowing arcs through the air, each strike chiseling into an insect’s carapace with gritty sparks. Nixon’s

  dual axes crackled with lightning, the currents arcing between the blades as he hacked at anything that

  flew into range. Garret’s shield slammed forward relentlessly, trying to swat the insects out of the air

  with sheer force.

  When Bryn’s mineral burst and Nixon’s lightning spike landed on the same target at the same instant,

  an insect dropped. One kill. But alone, neither could finish a creature in a single hit.

  That was bad.

  The swarm adjusted. A coordinated movement rippled across the winged mass. Dozens peeled off and

  swooped behind the trio at once.

  Garret barked, “Circle up!”

  The three reacted instantly. They pivoted toward each other and snapped into a tight triangle, backs

  touching, weapons facing outward.

  It should have bought them space.

  It did not.

  The insects shifted tactics immediately. Their wingbeats changed pitch, rising from a droning hum to a

  sharp, slicing whine. With every flap, razor-thin blades of wind shot outward. Compressed crescents of

  air, almost invisible, but deadly. They struck the trio from every angle, cutting shallow lines across

  armor and exposed skin.

  Tiny arcs of blood misted the air.

  Myr gritted his teeth. He thrust his staff forward and began pushing healing output as fast as he could

  channel it. His energy poured into Garret, then Nixon, then Bryn, cycling back the moment one of their

  health drops faltered. Sweat streamed down his face. His breathing became strained.

  He was barely keeping them alive.

  Behind the swarm, the ground trembled.

  A deep vibration, like something huge shifting underground.

  Cerny’s voice cracked, “More out of the nest!”

  The earth split open beside the main hole with a grinding tear. A second wave of insectoids burst free,

  erupting upward in a violent whirl of soil and dust.

  These were larger. Thicker. Their carapaces were stone grey, with dense plates along their thorax and

  abdomen. Their wingbeats made a low booming thud with every stroke.

  Durability type.

  SC’s voice echoed sharply in Bash’s mind.

  “Durability type. This is bad. These colonies either operate with a single species or up to four. That is

  two types confirmed. There may be two more.”

  Bash cursed under his breath. “Any good news?”

  “Depends,” SC replied.

  “On what?”

  “On whether fire and lightning types sound good to you.”

  He exhaled heavily. “Great.”

  The new wave smashed into the melee trio like a tidal surge. Durability insects did not slash. They

  rammed. Their bodies were blunt weapons, each impact like being hit by a runaway cart.

  Garret took the brunt of it. One slammed into his shield so hard the metal rang. The force shoved him

  backward several feet. His boots dug trenches into the dirt as he struggled to stay upright.

  Bryn staggered as two hit her in rapid succession. Armor cracked across her shoulder. She hissed and

  struck back, but the blades barely chipped their heavy plating.

  Nixon caught a hit to the side that sent him tumbling across the ground. He rolled, slapped a hand into

  the dirt, and pushed himself back into the formation just in time to block another charging insect with

  both axes.

  Wind slashes still came from above.

  Durability impacts hammered from the front.

  The three were being crushed between assault patterns.

  Garret’s lips split. Blood dripped down his chin. Nixon spat red into the dirt. Bryn’s breathing turned

  ragged.

  The ground rumbled again.

  Heat washed over them in waves.

  A third wave burst from the nest.

  Scarlet carapaces. Ember-like sparks falling from their wings. Trails of shimmering heat distortion

  swirling behind them.

  Fire type.

  SC confirmed it without emotion. Bash did not need her to. The air temperature spiked instantly.

  “This just keep getting better,” he muttered.

  As the fire insects took to the air, their wingbeats expelled scorching bursts of flame. Small arcs of fire

  lashed across the battlefield, burning into the trio’s armor. Myr flinched as he tried to keep his focus

  steady.

  His healing could not keep up with the damage.

  Then the hole rippled one more time.

  A fourth wave crawled upward in jagged, stuttering patterns.

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  Lightning type.

  Their bodies sparked uncontrollably. Every flap sent crackling discharges scattering across the swarm.

  SC’s observation was cold.

  “Lightning emergence confirmed.”

  “I see it,” Bash whispered.

  Now the entire nest was awake.

  The three melee fighters collapsed to their knees. The pressure of four elemental types hitting them at

  once was something their equipment simply could not endure. Garret tried to raise his shield again. His

  arm trembled violently. Bryn’s swords dropped for a heartbeat as her muscles spasmed from lightning

  shocks. Nixon’s axes flickered with unstable currents as he forced himself back up.

  And then Garret finally realized how bad it was.

  He looked up at the red, grey, green, and crackling bodies swarming around him.

  His voice came out broken and wet.

  “Help.”

  A durability insect lunged directly at his face.

  It never reached him.

  Something small and red streaked through the air. A sharp crack split the air as metal punched through

  carapace.

  The insect dropped dead in front of Garret.

  A red throwing knife jutted from its skull. Bright green ichor streamed out across the ground.

  SC’s tone turned analytical.

  “T1A durability type.”

  Bash grinned slowly. “Yeah. I barely felt it.”

  The insects turned toward him.

  But they were too slow.

  Bash moved.

  He drew his sidearm with his left hand. His right hand flicked forward, releasing another throwing

  knife.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  His movements blurred, almost impossible to track. Gunfire echoed in sharp rhythmic bursts. Knives

  flashed like streaks of red light. Every shot found a core. Every blade found a gap in the carapace.

  Three insects died.

  Then five.

  Then ten.

  The air around him filled with falling bodies.

  Myr stared with wide eyes. He had never seen someone kill faster than he could blink. The swarm was

  thinning around the trio, a clearing forming where chaos had been seconds before.

  Cerny faltered in her volley. “Is that… him?”

  Mirran lowered her rifle for a heartbeat. “It cannot be.”

  Bash’s voice tore across the battlefield.

  “Get out of there. Now. I have you covered!”

  His tone was not a suggestion. It was an order.

  Garret, Bryn, and Nixon stumbled backward, barely able to stand. Myr rushed to support them and

  dragged them out of the swarm’s center.

  Bash stepped into the gap they left behind.

  Then Bash yelled again.

  “Everyone hit me with your affinity. Light tap. Just activate my gear.”

  Myr blinked. “What?”

  “Energy and elemental resonance trigger my equipment. Hit me. Do it.”

  There was no time to argue.

  Myr thrust a small jet of water into Bash’s back.

  Bryn stepped in and drove a mineral-enhanced jab into his shoulder.

  Nixon flicked a crackling burst of lightning across his opposite arm.

  Cerny and Mirran each stepped close, touching him with wind and fire, their hands trembling as they

  made contact.

  Bash felt his gear wake up.

  “Back up,” he ordered. “I do not need them chasing you. I want them chasing me.”

  He ran straight into the swarm.

  The instant he entered the cloud of wings, he vanished inside the mass of bodies.

  Gunfire erupted in a nonstop tempo.

  Knives sliced through the air in relentless arcs.

  Wingbeats faltered. Bodies dropped.

  Myr yelled, “You heard him. Fall back!”

  The team retreated a full hundred meters, barely able to stand. They watched in disbelief as the swarm

  continued growing, fire and lightning types now pouring from the nest in waves that should have

  overwhelmed anyone inside.

  But the gunfire did not falter.

  Not once.

  Inside the chaos, Bash felt his entire equipment set lock into perfect rhythm.

  His suit responded instantly to the elemental hits from earlier. Wind, fire, lightning, and the blunt force

  of durability resonance all fed directly into the crystalline matrix of his vest. Excess damage converted

  to healing. Excess healing converted to energy.

  His movements quickened. His vision sharpened. His reflex timing tightened until every flutter of

  wings slowed in his perception.

  His boots surged with every step, leaving fading afterimages behind him as he shifted position faster

  than the insects could track. His greaves steepened his acceleration, each dodge amplifying the next.

  His cloak pulled each thrown knife back to him with increased velocity, letting him throw with no

  hesitation or downtime.

  His bracers absorbed every strike that touched him, storing the impacts as layered reinforcement that

  thickened his protection and fueled his regeneration. His fists converted overflow resonance into short

  detonations whenever a knife or bullet struck home.

  His chestpiece hummed with harmonic resonance, dulling incoming energy and returning health with

  each pulse.

  His sidearm grew hotter with kinetic buildup, each shot stronger than the last.

  Everything worked together.

  Every piece fed the next.

  Every movement built power.

  Every kill strengthened him.

  Bash shifted targets with surgical precision.

  The durability insects were first. They threatened nothing. They offered no regeneration triggers. They

  were dead weight. He cut them down instantly.

  Then the wind insects.

  He left two alive to keep his cooldown cycles rolling.

  Then fire.

  Burning wings produced more healing for him than harm.

  He left two of those alive as well.

  Then lightning.

  Their discharges invigorated him.

  He let a couple linger, feeding his system what it craved.

  Then, once every gear cycle was stable, he wiped out the last survivors.

  One by one, the insects fell.

  Their bodies thudded across the ground in a steady rain.

  Wind slashes dissolved against his armor.

  Durability rams became minor nudges.

  Fire bursts were swallowed as healing bursts.

  Lightning shocks coursed into his system and made him faster.

  Wind insects dropped like shredded leaves.

  Durability insects cracked apart under the force of his kinetic bursts.

  Fire insects collapsed into embers with each vibrational strike.

  Lightning insects fizzled midair as his throws pierced their cores.

  The swarm broke.

  Then shattered.

  Then completely collapsed.

  The sky cleared in minutes.

  Silence followed.

  Bash holstered his gun and let the last knife snap back into his hand. He turned and walked out of the

  thinning dust cloud as if he had simply finished a light training drill.

  SC’s voice filled his head.

  “Seven hundred thirty-one total T1A pulses absorbed. Durability: one hundred seventy-one. Wind: one

  hundred ninety-seven. Fire: one hundred eighty. Lightning: one hundred eighty-three.”

  Bash whistled softly.

  “Wow. I barely felt anything.”

  “That is the power of an evolved core,” SC replied.

  “Yeah. Now we just need to figure out how to unlock it.”

  Bash kept walking toward the stunned team, smoke fading from the barrels of his weapons, eyes calm,

  expression unreadable.

  Behind him, the battlefield lay silent.

  Ahead of him, the team stood speechless.

  The entire swarm was gone.

  Killed by one Spartor.