Chapter 60: Battling the Witch and Injecting the Potion
A low, faintly weary rasp tinged the childish, clear voice of the girl.
Yet the figure emitting this voice was a demonic presence, her words laced with chilling menace. A cold dread spread from their spines, their rigid bodies struggling to move even a finger.
No one could believe the Witch survived such a strike unscathed.
Yet there she stood, undeniably real, approaching unnoticed until she silently killed one of them.
Could humans defeat such a monster?
Facing this ghastly Witch, even the strongest resolve wavered. Having witnessed the S1 missile’s terror, her survival was all the more shocking.
‘Unscathed’ was an exaggeration.
The Tyrant knew the strike’s lethality. Recalling it stirred a rare fear—the primal dread of death. Even against powerful monsters, she rarely showed such emotion.
What had fallen from the sky? Its power nearly pushed her into death’s abyss.
The Tyrant touched her chest, her heart rate still unsteady since brushing death.
Had she not maximized her condition during the digger fight, sensing the threat and reacting instantly—diving into the digger’s deepest tunnel and using its body to block the entrance—she wouldn’t have survived.
Though she lived, the damage was significant.
The weakened impact through the ground still hit with immense force, pinning her in the mud, her organs squeezed.
The confined underground heat scorched her body—without the black smoke’s protection, more than her clothes would have burned.
Worse than the impact or heat, oxygen deprivation nearly killed her. The explosion’s heat and pressure created a vacuum, consuming the sparse oxygen in her deep hideout.
The near-death experience left her shaken. She never wanted to face such an attack again.
The humans’ cheers, heard as she emerged, confirmed their role in the attack.
They’d exploited her fight to sneak close and launch that despicable strike…
To vent her rage, protect herself, or secure the mist’s prize, these humans were already dead in her mind.
Since they’d forced her to linger at hell’s gate, she’d personally send them through it in return.
Under the smoke’s cover, the Tyrant swiftly approached the oblivious, jubilant humans, her merciless scythe slicing the first target’s throat.
“Open fire!”
Han Nianling, shocked by the Tyrant’s appearance, didn’t falter. Biting her tongue to overcome her body’s rigidity, she shouted, drawing her pistol and firing at the Tyrant.
At such close range, the bullets posed a slight threat, but the Tyrant was ready, raising her scythe as Han Nianling aimed, the black blade sparking under the barrage.
The attack was ineffective, but Han Nianling’s shots and call roused the team from shock.
If a researcher could face her, how could trained fighters not?
“Die!!!”
Luo Shi shoved Han Nianling back, unleashing a torrent of gunfire. All members retaliated, a storm of sparks hammering the scythe’s blade.
Gunfire erupted in the small building, bullets clanging against the scythe, shell casings ringing on the narrow rooftop.
While maintaining suppressive fire, they retreated to widen the gap, knowing their firearms were their only edge. The scythe’s sharpness, witnessed by all, meant certain death if she closed in.
What was that scythe made of? Such firepower left no mark…
The fierce metal storm couldn’t breach the scythe’s defense, alarming Lin Zhao. As a veteran Security Team captain, he stayed composed, knowing ordinary bullets wouldn’t kill a missile-surviving Witch.
Their situation might not be hopeless. Her battered state suggested the missile had wounded her. If they persisted, survival was possible.
“Alternate fire, cover each other, keep suppressing the Witch! B1! Ready the rocket launcher!”
“Understood!”
A teammate dropped his rifle, shouldering the rocket launcher. Others maintained fire while moving to nearby cover.
Confirming his team was ready, 05-B1 locked the Witch in his sights, fired, and dove behind a collapsed sofa, verifying the rocket’s trajectory.
The rocket, trailing flames, streaked out, kicking up white smoke. The explosion engulfed everything in dust, shrapnel and debris crashing into surroundings, denting even sturdy walls.
“Keep suppressing! Don’t stop! Keep suppressing! Don’t stop…”
Sensing weakening fire, Lin Zhao shouted repeatedly, pouring bullets into the Witch’s last position despite her obscured figure.
She’d used dust to approach before, and in this less-than-100-square-meter rooftop, they couldn’t let it happen again.
But as the team fired relentlessly, a black shadow burst from the dust, soaring overhead.
Like a low-flying craft, it crossed meters to the team’s rear. Landing, its spinning body swung the scythe, claiming another life and shattering his weapon into parts.
The sight filled Lin Zhao with helpless despair. The fallen was their machine gunner, whose light machine gun was their strongest firepower, halving their output.
The Witch’s move crushed their hope, but he’d struggle to the end.
“Team, inject the potion! Luo Shi, protect Researcher Han!”
Drawing a glass syringe, he glanced at the XII112 code, then plunged it into his wrist. ‘XII112, don’t let me down…’
As Lin Zhao and others injected the clear liquid from their syringes, Luo Shi, without hesitation, fled with Han Nianling. Against the Witch, they had no hope, but they had to save Han Nianling.
“Ha…”
In seconds, Lin Zhao felt the potion’s effects. His heart raced like a revving engine, his skin flushed unnaturally, a strange heat coursed through him, and each breath burned.