Chapter 200: STRONGHOLD 5 II
"Good. And the weapons to use against him?" Luthor inquired further, his eyes narrowing with predatory interest as he scrolled through the schematics, envisioning the confrontation that loomed on the horizon.
"They have also made a breakthrough there, sir. They created weapons specifically calibrated to affect Threat 103—Edmond’s designation in our threat assessment logs. According to their analysis, Edmond utilizes the breach between the umbra layer and the physical world, existing in a liminal state that keeps him partially intangible. The reason he remains untouchable is because he is not completely present in our worldly plane, phasing between dimensions like a ghost. To counter this, they engineered weapons that bypass this interdimensional veil and deal direct, tangible damage against him, disrupting the shadow essence that sustains his form," she continued, her voice gaining a note of confidence as she recited the technical details, the air in the room humming with the low whir of cooling fans from the servers processing vast amounts of data.
"Good. And the report?" Luthor asked, setting the tablet aside with a satisfied nod, his muscular build tensing slightly under his casual beach shirt and shorts.
"This is it, sir," the secretary informed, handing over a thick, bound report printed on high-quality paper, its pages filled with charts, formulas, and annotated images that detailed every aspect of their countermeasures.
Luthor scanned through the report with inhuman speed, his sharp mind grasping every intricate piece of information recorded within it—formulas for light diffusion, weapon blueprints with precise calibration notes, and simulated battle outcomes that predicted high success rates, absorbing the knowledge like a sponge in mere moments, his tattooed left arm flexing as he turned the pages.
"Good. Begin the operation. If he is the herald of a god, then we must send a strong message and let the world know us as God slayers," Luthor said with finality, his voice booming with unshakeable conviction, slamming the report down on the desk as if sealing a decree, his cocky grin widening into something more feral and ambitious.
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Edmond arrived at the stronghold, moving through the shadows with an intoxicating feeling that coursed through his veins like a potent elixir, the darkness whispering promises of power and evasion as it propelled him closer to his target. Edmond took a calm, steadying breath, the cool air filling his lungs and centering his focus, before finally passing through the formidable walls of the stronghold, his shadowy form slipping past the outer barriers as he prepared himself mentally for whatever challenges lay ahead, oblivious to the meticulously planned torture that awaited him in the form of tailored traps and countermeasures.
Edmond entered the stronghold proper, the sudden illumination of blinding light surprising him like a slap to the face, flooding every corner with an unnatural, sterile glow that banished even the faintest hint of darkness. Edmond noticed his strength scaling down dramatically under this sanctuary of no shadow, his abilities feeling muted and sluggish, as if weights had been chained to his limbs, the photon emitters humming faintly in the background like a swarm of invisible insects.
Armed forces, heavily fortified with reinforced armor plating that gleamed under the harsh lights and equipped with an array of high-tech weaponry, moved smartly toward him in coordinated formations, their boots thudding against the reinforced concrete floors as they pointed their guns directly at Edmond, barrels trained with unerring precision.
"Tsk," Edmond clicked his tongue in irritation, a sharp sound that cut through the tension, knowing deep in his gut that he was in for a long, grueling battle that would test every ounce of his skill and endurance. He controlled his hands with focused intent, converting the right one into a massive, impenetrable shield forged from writhing shadows that solidified into a dark, matte surface, and the left one into his favorite pistol, its sleek barrel extending from his palm like an organic extension of his will, both manifestations pulsing with latent umbral energy.
"Edmond, you are advised to surrender peacefully and avoid any escalations for your own good," one of the armed forces informed him, his voice amplified through a helmet-mounted speaker, carrying a tone of authoritative warning laced with underlying confidence in their preparations.
"Could say the same thing to you," Edmond retorted coolly, pointing his shadowy pistol toward the nearest man, his finger hovering over the ethereal trigger, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.
Tah!
Edmond fired from his gun, beginning the inevitable clash with a resounding crack that echoed through the illuminated corridors, the shadow bullet streaking forth like a bolt of midnight.
His shadow projectile hurtled toward the unlucky soul, drilling a clean hole through his head with merciless accuracy and killing him instantly, blood spraying in a brief arc before the body crumpled to the ground in a heap of lifeless armor.
"Fire!" the leader of the armed groups instructed sharply, his command slicing through the chaos like a whip, causing his forces to open fire in unison, shooting at Edmond with unbridled fervor, the air filling with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the deafening roar of automatic weapons.
Edmond moved fluidly, his body twisting and weaving with acrobatic grace as he dodged the bullets he could, their trails whistling past him like angry hornets, while he sought shelter behind the sturdy walls of nearby houses within the stronghold—modest structures built for durability rather than comfort—his arms bleeding from being grazed by a stray bullet that burned like fire against his skin.
"Of course those crazy geniuses thought of a way to neutralize my abilities," Edmond muttered under his breath, his voice low and laced with frustration, still hidden from the constant barrage of bullets that chipped away at his cover, fragments of concrete raining down around him like gritty confetti.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath that steadied his racing heart, he left the hideout with calculated boldness, placing his large, giant shield in front of him to protect his vital areas, the shadowy barrier absorbing impacts with muffled thuds as he created two narrow slits for visibility, peering through them like a knight behind a visor.