No Way Out

"Stop him!"

Garrett shouted, and the three Death Warriors charged forward in unison. Their bodies had all undergone partial mechanization, their brain nerves directly linked to a unified control terminal, making them incapable of disobeying any command Garrett gave.

The Death Warriors revealed their weapons and moved exaggeratedly to surround Michael. Their gun muzzles spat long tongues of flame, while Plasma Cutters swung like blades, leaving trails of light through the air.

Garrett had always been quite proud of his Death Warriors' combat ability. Yet today, for the first time ever, he instinctively felt that relying on these three cyborg soldiers to defeat the enemy before them was simply impossible. All he could hope was that the Death Warriors would hold out long enough for him to have a chance of escaping alive.

Michael's helmet display intelligently marked Garrett and Ward, who were turning to flee, with red circles. Sherry spoke up to warn him, "Sir, they seem to be planning to leave the scene."

"It's fine." As Michael spoke, he casually waved aside a Death Warrior's fierce punch. "They won't get away."

Michael spun, his right foot suddenly shooting up in a Huaixin Kick aimed directly at the Death Warrior charging from behind. The man's momentum was too great for him to dodge in time, so he could only raise his arms in front of himself with a muffled block. The steel boot struck his arms with tons of force, like a surging torrent that sent him flying backward through the air. He flipped several times before crashing to the ground.

The Death Warrior wielding a Plasma Cutter followed close behind. Trails of searing energy interwove into a net of blades, and the high temperature refracted the light, making it seem as though space itself had twisted.

Ironically, Michael was not at all unfamiliar with the light blade in his hand. By pure coincidence, the Plasma Cutter was one of the pieces of equipment he had developed back when he was in Hydra. He had already grown tired of playing with this thing three years ago.

Michael dodged two slashes, silently reciting an incantation at the same time. The computer built into his suit rapidly retrieved Magic Circle data stored in its local database. With a turn of his right palm, surging magic power quickly gathered in his hand, forming a circular Magic Circle within fractions of a second. Its patterns then shifted, transforming into a Magic Blade that scattered sparks.

Michael flicked his right hand, swinging the blade. Golden light slashed upward in an arc from below.

It was only one strike, yet it seemed utterly unstoppable. The miraculous Magic Blade pierced the plasma blade net just as the Death Warrior brought his weapon down. Michael's blade had impossibly waited along the path of his descending weapon, making it seem as though the Death Warrior had delivered his own arm to that searing edge.

Magic power surged forth, and golden sparks sprayed together with blood as the Death Warrior's arm was severed cleanly at the elbow. The half-arm flew high into the air from inertia, its device still spewing a torrent of light from the back of its hand.

Two down. One left.

Had it been any other enemy, they might have completely lost the will to fight by now. Three enhanced cyborg warriors had attacked side by side, only to be effortlessly taken down two at a time almost the moment they met him. It would not have been an exaggeration to say they were not even on the same level. Unfortunately, they were Death Warriors—tragic cyborgs modified by Hydra, capable only of mechanically carrying out orders, without even the right to fear or retreat.

The last Death Warrior continued faithfully carrying out the impossible order Garrett had left behind. His left hand continuously spat gunfire to suppress Michael, while his right hand wielded a specially made Tactical Knife. The cold steel blade looked quite formidable under the Death Warrior's enhanced arm strength.

Unfortunately, it was still useless.

Michael cleanly raised his hand and cut through the Tactical Knife with one stroke. The blade snapped in half amid sparks like those from a power saw, its break smooth and even. The Death Warrior simply flung away the hilt and threw a heavy punch at Michael's face, only for Michael to casually deflect it with one palm. Michael spread his fingers, his palm aimed directly at the man's face. Highly concentrated energy hummed into his palm, and a blue Pulse Cannon beam erupted at nearly point-blank range, blowing open the last Death Warrior's forehead.

Problem solved.

Michael clapped his hands and turned his gaze back toward the direction in which the two Hydra agents had fled.

Garrett and Ward raced all the way back to the car parked nearby. Garrett slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and without pausing for even a moment, floored the accelerator. The car let out a high-pitched roar and shot away like an arrow.

They sped down the country road, gale-force winds battering the entire vehicle. The speedometer needle climbed madly, while the driver showed no intention of slowing down in the slightest.

Ward gripped a spare pistol tightly in his hand and looked back at least five times within twenty seconds.

"Is he still following us?" Garrett shouted.

"I haven't seen a damn thing!" Ward said.

Yet as if in answer to him, a muffled boom suddenly erupted beneath the speeding car. A transparent shockwave swept outward along the ground. The vehicle was thrown uncontrollably into the air, spinning through the air on its high-speed momentum before crashing down with a clang, rolling several times across the ground and finally coming to a stop upside down.

Their car had veered off the road and plunged into a ditch. Its doors were embedded in the mud, and a hole had been blasted through its undercarriage, like a punctured eggshell.

John Garrett's vision blurred. For a moment, he thought he was done for, but in the end, he forced himself back to consciousness through sheer willpower. He bit through the tip of his tongue, hoping the pain would help a little.

"Ward? Ward?" He tried shaking Ward in the passenger seat beside him, but the latter kept his eyes tightly shut and gave no response. Terrifying blood covered Ward's face, and his breathing had grown so faint it was nearly gone. He looked not far from beyond saving.

"Damn it!"

Garrett cursed under his breath. He could feel warm, sticky liquid on his own forehead as well, while his head swam as if he could lose consciousness at any moment.

He had no time to worry about Ward. He could only hope the kid was lucky enough to survive this, because Garrett could barely save himself right now. He managed to unfasten his seat belt, then laboriously kicked out the window. Gritting his teeth, he crawled through the shattered opening. When his body fell into the mud, he could not help letting out a long breath.

He leaned against the overturned car and sat in the wet, soft mud. He looked up, only to see it again. The demon.

The demon hidden within that black steel body had been there all along, coldly watching his struggle through the V-shaped visor that emitted a harsh blue glow, as though observing a ridiculous clown.

"You." Garrett ground out through clenched teeth.

"Me." Michael slowly walked forward and raised his palm toward Garrett's head. Blue arcs of electricity danced across the Pulse Cannon in his palm.