Primal Outcasts

Chapter 17: Fighting Red

The thick red mist curled through the tunnels like a living thing. The alarms had faded into a low, haunting hum. Outside, Jagger slammed his fists against the heavy doors, denting them with every desperate hit.

"Kuma! Kuma, answer me!" He shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

Inside the mine, the world was a blur of coughing, screaming, and silence. Bodies of unlucky soldiers and prisoners lay scattered across the corridors, claimed by the spreading poison.

Max stumbled through the toxic haze, his armor scraped and scorched. Every breath burned like fire. His vision blurred, but he didn't dare slow down.

Something was hunting him.

A streak of red light zipped past his head, smashing into the stone wall and showering him with debris.

"Damn it..." Max wheezed, forcing his legs to move faster.

Max's boots pounded against the poisoned floor, each breath burning in his lungs. He could feel the poison gnawing at him from inside, but he gritted his teeth, summoning fire within his veins, burning the toxins as fast as they spread.

Gotta keep moving... he thought, pushing harder.

A mechanical whir echoed from behind.

It's catching up.

The machine loomed behind him. Cloaked in tattered black and gray fabrics, it moved with unnatural speed, its real body hidden beneath the heavy cloth. Only its jagged, skeletal head was exposed, its single eye glowing a sharp white. Weapons—blades and cannons—slid from its sleeves, humming with deadly light.

With a screech of grinding gears, the mysterious machine lashed out. One of its arms morphed into a long, gleaming sword and swung at Max.

Max spun, bringing his spear up just in time to block. Sparks exploded as metal met metal. The force rattled Max's arms, but he held firm, teeth gritted against the blow.

"You want a fight?" Max snarled through gritted teeth. Flames burst from his spear as he shoved back against the machine. "Come get it."

A mechanical chuckle rumbled from within, not from lungs or throat, but from speakers tuned to mock human laughter.

"I was made to protect... once," The machine mused, blades sliding from his arms with a metallic hiss. "Now I get to decide who's worth saving... and who's not."

The machine voice is eerily smooth—too smooth, almost like a person mimicking feeling.

He moved faster, with unnatural grace, the mist swirling around his feet.

"And you, Lion, you're worth breaking."

Max gritted his teeth as he held back the machine's blade, his muscles burning from both the strain and the creeping poison.

"What... are you?!" Max growled, forcing the words out.

The cloaked machine tilted its head slightly, like it was thinking.

"I was given a name long ago..." BloodCrash said, his voice almost wistful, the light in his eye dimming for a moment. "But my owner abandoned me."

A mechanical hum buzzed low in his chest. "So I discarded that name."

He leaned in closer, the white light from his single eye glowing brighter.

"If you need something to call me... call me BloodCrash."

With that, BloodCrash shoved forward, forcing Max back across the crumbling, poison-soaked mine floor.

BloodCrash's blade gleamed under the toxic red mist, aimed straight for Max's heart. Max stood his ground, planting his spear, but deep down, he knew. This strike... he wouldn't be able to block it.