Deviant: No Longer Human

Chapter 340: Deviant: A Paradoxical Existence (1)

The sand seeped through every crevice and corner, indiscriminate in its fury.

Whoosh!

"Ah! No, It got me!"

"Fuck— comaahhhhh"

"Someone give me a shield—ahhhhh"

Whoosh!

It swirled around deviants and soldiers alike, suffocating rogue hell spirits and any living being in its path.

The screams grew louder, a melody of terror and pain as the mist claimed more victims.

"I can't breathe... It's burning!" a deviant howled, collapsing under the weight of the ethereal assault.

Thud!

His body shook before lying eerily still with a thud on the ground.

The commanders, encased in their advanced armor, watched in horror as their ranks thinned dramatically.

The armor, thankfully, isolated them from direct contact with the evil mist, sparing them from the fate of their comrades.

"Commander Takashi, Commander Erick, any of you — are you with me!?" First Commander Ericka shouted, her voice echoing through the desolation, tinged with a mix of bewilderment, frustration, and growing fear.

She scanned the devastated area, her eyes darting in despair behind the visor of her helmet, desperately seeking any signs of life.

"Affirmative! I'm alive, at least for now!" Erick's voice echoed from her left, slightly muffled as he struggled from beneath a heap of lifeless bodies.

"Hahaha, Third Commander, how about you and Helena go on a date after this?" Commander Takashi quipped as he strode towards Erick, offering a hand to help him stand.

The weight of the ammunition in his backpack made it a cumbersome effort to rise on his own.

"Ah... Finally free. Is anyone else alive?" Erick exhaled a heavy sigh of relief as he regained his footing.

Helena approached, her features etched with grim determination. "No, the mist is corrosive; it's claimed almost everyone. Only we three seem to have survived." She joined them, and all three instinctively positioned their backs against each other, forming a defensive triangle to maintain a 360-degree view.

"Understood!" Erick nodded sharply.

"What happened to Commander Raj?" Takashi asked, his voice laden with concern as his gaze swept the eerie landscape.

"Commander Raj is no more," Erick replied, his chuckle hollow and self-deprecating.

"Enough chatter, team! We need to retreat now," Helena interjected, her smile tinged with irony.

Despite the dire circumstances, her comrades' ability to jest in the face of death struck a chord within her.

'Everywhere I look, it's a nightmare—as if the world itself is weeping blood.'

"Retreating? Abandoning the mission?" Erick's voice cracked with surprise.

"There's nothing left for us to protect," Takashi murmured somberly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Helena nodded firmly. "Maintain the formation, and let's make it out alive!"

Erick and Takashi responded in unison, "Roger!"

_______

Crash!

Gabrial staggered to his feet, spitting out blood and chuckling with a ragged breath.

"Hahaha—spit—didn't expect you to become stronger this time—cough," he coughed, the metallic taste of blood staining his lips as he clutched his chest, probing for the depth of his internal injuries.

He cut a haggard figure, his once-neat short red hair now disheveled and his charming blue eyes clouded with pain.

Despite the fierce skirmish, his clothes had somehow held together, shielded during Luna's brutal assault by the supernatural wings he had unfurled protectively.

Behind him, four pairs of long black wings arched, each feather singed and scarred from the battle.

The remnants of what were once twelve majestic wings were evident; two were noticeably smaller and still regrowing from a past injury, while six bore fresh scorch marks to the core from Luna's recent attack.

As he regained his footing, the harsh light of battle revealed his ruggedly handsome face, stained by a long scar that slashed from his cheek across his torso in a jagged, tilted line—a brutal souvenir from a previous clash.

Across from him, Luna stood weakly, her black suit torn in several places, exposing skin stained by fresh cuts.

Blood trickled from multiple cuts on her face, adding a stark red contrast to her muddy, shoulder-length white hair.

"Tch, do you think you could even take another one of those blasts?" Luna taunted, a chuckle escaping her bloodied lips even as the crimson stain hinted at her internal injuries.

"Haha, so why don't you just finish me already?" Gabrial retorted, rising into the air with an effortless grace that contrasted the stillness of his battered wings.

Luna's face twisted into a grimace as Gabrial noticed her legs trembling slightly.

His laughter rang out, cold and mocking. "Accept it, you can't even stand on your feet any longer! Pledge your allegiance to me, and I might just leave your skin intact!"

Licking her lips, tasting the blood, Luna's voice hardened. "Not until I see you dead!"

Despite her battered state, her ability to recover was bolstered by an earlier encounter with Maliketh, lending her resilience.

Gabrial's frown deepened, seeing her stubborn refusal to surrender. "Why are you even doing all this? I know you aren't fighting for their side!"

"You — cough — won't understand," Luna coughed lightly, a sinister smile playing on her lips as more blood trickled out, her condition visibly deteriorating.

"Hm?" Gabrial's brow furrowed in confusion, struggling to grasp the depths of Luna's motivations and the personal vendetta that drove her to self destruction.

His gaze remained fixed on her beautiful form, searching for any sign of the conviction behind her eyes, the unwavering determination that made her a strong opponent even at her weakest.

Little did he realize, Luna's motivations were never about heroism; her drive was born from a darker, a more stronger storm within her soul.

She sought not to save, but to find a target for her seething rage, someone capable of withstanding the full force of her wrath.

She had been eagerly pursuing this precise moment, a moment so intense that it sent every vein in her body throbbing with fierce anticipation.

This was the moment that would make her blood ignite, a fierce, boiling surge that demanded release.

The idea of seeing herself outmatched and falling in battle brought a twisted smile to her lips—a grim satisfaction in facing her own downfall.

Yet, she harbored no intentions of facing her demise in solitude—a sinister grin crept across her face as she envisioned her final, devastating act; she was destined to self-detonate today!

Perhaps this was an urge she had always carried deep within her subconscious...

The deviants, those eerie offspring of the Graveyard of Gods, lived in a paradoxical existence, simultaneously alive yet dead inside.

And Luna was indistinguishable from them in this regard; the thrill of something potent enough to make her feel vividly alive had kept her clinging to existence.

Now, as the pressure built and her veins started to burst from the internal pressure, she felt the exciting, terrifying climax was imminent.