Chapter 64: Prisoners Chance
At another region of the battlegrounds, a squad consisting of individuals fully armored but with special onyx metal constraints on their necks stood engaged.
This was the prison squad, headed by Dio. The forty individuals fought with fervorous intent.
Jack cleaved through a ghastly wraith, a fetid splash of rot splattering across his glass-plated helm. Breathing heavily, he paused his rampage to wipe it off.
That’s 98, I think... Tch, still have a long way to go.
He glanced at his comrades, all deeply occupied in mass slaughter — fast and efficient.
Hehehe... How did things turn out like this? What’s the reason for this much enthusiasm in battle?
The reason was simple. Before the battle even began, they had been promised freedom. As long as each prisoner reached a certain kill count, they could cast off the restraints of being prisoners — and even have a chance at becoming the first personnel of a new department Roy was opening called The Dark Vanguards.
Though the requirements to join were hellish, they were resolved to try regardless: 100 kills for release, and 10,000 kills each for a chance at recruitment.
This horde of zombie-like abhorrents seemed endless anyway, so with their goals in sight, they unleashed utter chaos in battle.
Why were a bunch of soon-to-be ex-convicts struggling so hard for a chance at recruitment under their very captor?
Jack couldn’t help but give a self-deprecating smile at the thought.
Back in the cell, like a devout believer, Dio wouldn’t shut up about Roy’s magnificence.
There wasn’t a second anyone was around him that he didn’t start preaching about the Almighty Boss’s benevolence, unparalleled talent, unmatched prowess, and great wisdom.
Though most of them didn’t buy his words at first — still festering loathe in their hearts for Roy — all that changed when Roy came back from his conquest of the Beast Lord’s territory.
To think a man could venture into a Lord’s territory with nothing more than a single subordinate — no army, no elite force — and still end up crushing a Beast Lord in his own domain despite the buff of being a Lord... Like, for goodness’ sake, that was a beast we’re talking about!
Apart from intelligence, their stats were way above that of humans by vast margins. So even with this gap, plus its buff and a whole hungry pack of subordinates, Amon still lost.
It was here they started to realize — maybe... maybe Dio wasn’t all lies?
Not only that, in preparation for this battle, all prisoners were treated equally. Granted the same grade armor as officers, they benefited from the same intense training program, receiving a fair share of valuable empowering resources without any form of bias.
Jack, racing toward a stray abhorrent and making sure to deal with his foe cleanly this time, thought:
Hateful or not, that guy is definitely top class — even among Lords.
Even the dumb could realize — handing out rare-ranked armors and weapons like candy, this guy was definitely a big shot.
Then a blur came from the side of his gaze... and a heavy impact rammed through the side of his ribs. Cracks spread through the structure of his bones on impact, squeezing out all the air in his lungs and leaving them contracted.
His figure flew backward uncontrollably, skidding through the blackened earth with a trail of dust and debris.
Hack! His throat spasmed violently, a trail of blood leaking from his lips. His head spun, his chest stinging with prickling pain.
He reached unconsciously for where he was struck and felt cracks running through the fine metallic structure.
Shit... I can’t breathe! he wheezed weakly.
The others were so engaged in battle they probably couldn’t spare him help. Gritting his teeth, he directed his blurring gaze at his attacker — the silhouette of a long-armed, eldritch, lip-torn figure.
With a torn smile that literally went from ear to ear, it took steady steps toward him, aiming to finish the kill.
Shit! I can’t die here!
With trembling arms, he reached for the Desert Eagle located at the holster of his armor.
Back still on the ground, vision fading in and out of blurs, he took aim.
Bang!
The gunshot resounded. Regardless of his state, his aim met its mark — the monster was at fault for moving so slowly.
The Variant’s head jerked back violently from the impact of the bullet, which plowed straight into its temple.
Kekekekekeh!
A hair-raising cackle rang out as the creature’s head remained unnaturally bent backward...
Suddenly, a ripple of mental wave relayed information.
Jack’s eyes twitched, despair surging in his heart as the description of the dangerous new Variant matched the one before him.
This... I’m definitely dead, he concluded silently.
And indeed, the abomination grabbed its deformed head and snapped it into place — its steps toward Jack not wavering in the slightest.
The creature steadily arrived before Jack’s slumped body, the strength already leaving his frame — too weak to take one more shot.
And the creature squatted before Jack’s face, its smile still eerily static, its eyes betraying devious intelligence.
These things definitely weren’t as mindless as they all assumed.
The face of the monster slowly encroached toward him — maws gaping, rancid slimy drool trickling from the edge of its lips.
Each second of the experience was dreadful, but Jack remained resolved — not closing his eyes or averting his gaze. And just when he thought it was all over—
Swish! Splurt!
Right before him, still in the same posture, a thin line ran through the frame of the creature — as it slowly split into two, its eyes fading and becoming lusterless as life drained from its being. Worse, black putrid slime of rot and decay poured all over Jack’s frame.
"Come on, man! If you want to help, you could’ve done a cleaner job." Jack’s face scowled as he spat, though his tone remained grateful.
"I think the word you’re looking for is ’thank you’... Anyway, let’s get you to Ethan so you can get fixed," Dio replied nonchalantly, waving his claws and trying to shake off the lung-burning, stenching black liquid dripping from them.
"What do you mean fi—" Jack, still preparing a comeback, froze mid-sentence. His eyes widened with horror, his frame frozen from blood-freezing terror as he gazed at something beyond Dio’s figure.
Dio, feeling the shadow cast over his frame, turned back slowly as the creature was revealed.
A massive humanoid construct of writhing deep black faces — screaming and wailing.
Staring at the abhorrent creature, Dio could feel the soul-numbing effect of the wails. But his gaze remained firm, his figure quickly towering into his full form — matching heights with the creature...