Chapter 342: Femme fatale

Words : 2065 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

Chapter 342: Femme fatale The facility’s upper levels were a maze of twisted metal and industrial machinery, each floor more heavily fortified than the last. Noah and Diana moved through the carnage like instruments of precision warfare, leaving behind a trail of Harbinger corpses that would have impressed even the most hardened EDF veterans. The fourth floor brought them face-to-face with two single-horns that had been lying in ambush behind massive ore processing equipment. The aliens had positioned themselves with surprising tactical awareness, using the industrial debris as cover while maintaining clear sight lines to the main access points. It was the kind of coordination that suggested they were learning from the deaths of their brethren below. Noah’s response was clinical—a void blink directly into the first creature’s guard, Excaliburn driving through its skull before it could even register his presence. The blade’s void energy unraveled alien biology at the molecular level, preventing any chance of regeneration. The second Harbinger managed exactly one swing of its massive claws before Diana’s Dead zone locked its momentum mid-strike, leaving it helpless as Noah’s Null Strike erased its torso from existence. ’Getting predictable down here. Single-horns are all brute force, no finesse. They telegraph their moves like amateurs swinging sledgehammers, but I can’t let that make me overconfident. The moment I start thinking this is easy is the moment one of them gets lucky.’ [Health Points: 1750/1750] [Void Energy: 1705/2200] No damage taken yet, but Noah could feel the steady drain on his void energy reserves. Each major technique cost him, and while his regeneration was substantial, it couldn’t completely offset the sustained combat they’d been maintaining for the past hour. The fifth floor presented a different challenge entirely. Five single-horns had arranged themselves in a defensive formation that covered the entire floor space. They’d learned from the deaths below, positioning themselves in overlapping fields of fire with no obvious blind spots. Heavy industrial equipment had been moved to create chokepoints and kill zones, turning the processing floor into a carefully constructed battlefield. "Coordinated tactics," Noah observed, his enhanced perception cataloguing angles and approach vectors. "They’re adapting faster than I expected." Diana’s ice-blue eyes swept the tactical situation, her analytical mind working in parallel with his. "The learning curve is steep. Each floor shows more sophistication than the last." "Which means whatever’s running this show is either watching us directly or getting detailed reports from the survivors," Noah replied, void energy beginning to coalesce around Excaliburn’s blade. "Either way, time to give them something new to think about." The battle that followed was a masterclass in combined tactics. Diana’s Dead zones created geometric patterns of frozen space that forced the aliens to navigate an increasingly complex three-dimensional maze. Her precise control turned their own momentum against them, redirecting charges into walls and equipment with bone-crushing impact. Meanwhile, Noah moved through the chaos like controlled lightning, void techniques flowing together in seamless combinations. Storm Fall turned the industrial environment into an electrical nightmare, ten million volts arcing between processing equipment and support beams. The sustained assault overwhelmed the Harbingers’ regeneration capabilities, leaving them convulsing and vulnerable. Noah capitalized immediately, void blinks positioning him for perfect strike angles while Phantom Step created confusion through multiple decoy targets. But these single-horns were more resilient than their predecessors. Their biology seemed more robust, their tactics more sophisticated. What should have been a three-minute engagement stretched to nearly eight minutes of sustained combat. By the time the last alien fell to Excaliburn’s void-enhanced edge, both Noah and Diana were breathing hard. ’They’re definitely learning. That last group lasted almost three times longer than the ones on floor three. Whatever intelligence is coordinating them is getting better data with each encounter.’ [Health Points: 1750/1750] [Void Energy: 1520/2200] The sixth floor brought them to the facility’s main processing center—a cathedral-sized space filled with massive ore refiners and gravity manipulators. The ceiling stretched forty feet overhead, supported by reinforced steel beams that had been designed to handle the immense weight of the mining equipment. Conveyor systems snaked between towering refinement towers, creating a complex network of elevated platforms and maintenance catwalks. And waiting for them in perfect tactical formation were six single-horns. These weren’t like the others. Their positioning showed military-level coordination, with two anchoring defensive positions behind heavy equipment while four others maintained mobile overwatch from elevated positions. They’d turned the industrial landscape into a fortress, with clear lines of retreat and multiple fallback positions already established. "This is different," Diana breathed, her voice carrying the kind of respect reserved for genuinely dangerous opponents. "Professional level tactics," Noah confirmed, his analytical mind running probability calculations at the speed of thought. "Someone’s been giving them a education in small unit tactics. The question is whether that someone is down here with them or directing from a distance." The engagement began before he finished speaking. The mobile units moved with coordinated precision, forcing Noah and Diana to split their attention between multiple attack vectors while the anchored defenders provided covering fire with debris hurled at bullet speeds. It was sophisticated, effective, and absolutely lethal. Diana’s Dead zones worked overtime, creating barriers and redirects that kept them from being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of attacks. But even with their movements restricted, the Harbingers’ enhanced coordination was staggering. They moved like a pack of wolves, each individual supporting the others while maintaining pressure on their targets. Noah flowed through the battle like a conductor directing a symphony of violence. Void blinks positioned him for perfect strike angles, always staying one step ahead of the aliens’ attempts to pin him down. Phantom Step created cascading confusion as void energy decoys exploded in all directions, overwhelming the Harbingers’ ability to track his real position. Storm Fall turned select sections of the processing center into electrical death traps, forcing the aliens to constantly adjust their positioning. But it was taking too long. The single-horns’ improved tactics meant they could absorb losses while maintaining tactical cohesion. For every alien that fell to Excaliburn’s void-enhanced strikes, the others adapted their approach, learning from their fallen comrade’s mistakes. What should have been a decisive engagement was turning into a war of attrition. And that’s when Noah noticed Diana’s movements becoming sluggish, her Dead zones flickering at the edges. ’Damn it. She’s been maintaining maximum output for almost twenty minutes straight. Human endurance has limits, even with all her enhancements. We need to end this fast before—’ The largest single-horn must have noticed the same weakness. It abandoned its defensive position and charged directly at Diana, accepting the pain of her weakened Dead zones in exchange for a clear shot at what it correctly identified as Noah’s primary support asset. The alien’s tactical assessment was flawless—eliminate the support, and the primary combatant becomes exponentially more vulnerable. Diana threw up a desperate barrier, pouring her remaining energy reserves into a Dead zone that should have stopped a freight train. But her exhaustion showed in the construct’s instability. The field flickered, wavered, and the Harbinger’s massive fist broke through like it was made of tissue paper. The impact was devastating. Diana’s body ragdolled across the processing center, crashing through maintenance equipment before slamming into a support beam with a wet crack that echoed through the cathedral-sized space. She hit the concrete floor and didn’t get up, blood pooling beneath her motionless form. "Diana!!!" Noah shouted. ’No. Not like this. Not when we’re so close to finishing this.’ The five remaining single-horns sensed victory. They began converging on Noah’s position, their movements coordinated with newfound confidence. Without Diana’s Dead zones to control the battlefield, the tactical situation had shifted dramatically against him. Six-to-one odds with tactical coordination were manageable. Five-to-one odds with no support and a wounded ally to protect were something else entirely. Noah looked down at Diana’s motionless form, then back at the approaching aliens. His analytical mind catalogued their approach vectors, estimated their time to contact, calculated optimal defensive positions. But underneath the tactical assessment, something cold and furious was building in his chest—not the controlled calm he usually relied on, but something rawer. More personal. "You made a mistake," he said quietly, his voice carrying across the industrial space with deadly certainty. The single-horns paused for a moment, perhaps recognizing the change in his tone. Then they resumed their advance, confident in their numbers and coordination. They had no idea what was coming. [EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED] [WARNING: System detecting extreme threat to user survival] [Enhanced combat measures authorized] [Void energy consumption restrictions lifted] The system’s intervention caught Noah off-guard—he hadn’t even realized his vital signs had triggered the automated response. But he didn’t waste time questioning the development. If the system thought the situation was desperate enough to lift his energy restrictions, then it was time to show these aliens exactly why humans had earned their reputation as the galaxy’s most stubborn and hard to kill species. Maximum yield Storm Fall erupted through the cathedral-sized space. This wasn’t the controlled lightning he’d been using—this was the wrath of god made manifest in electrical fury. Every piece of metal in the processing center became a conductor for power that could have supplied a small city. The air itself ignited as superheated plasma arced between surfaces, turning the industrial environment into a vision of technological hell. All five single-horns convulsed simultaneously as millions of volts coursed through their enhanced nervous systems. Their regeneration capabilities, impressive as they were, simply couldn’t keep pace with the sustained electrical trauma. One by one, they collapsed, their biological systems fried beyond any hope of recovery. The silence that followed was absolute except for the crackling of residual electricity and the sound of Noah’s heavy breathing. ’That should be it. Clear the floor, get Diana medical attention, figure out why the system thought things were bad enough to—’ Footsteps. Light, controlled footsteps approaching from the stairwell leading to the facility’s highest level. But these weren’t the heavy, thunderous impacts Noah had learned to associate with Harbinger movement. These steps were measured, almost graceful, carrying a rhythm that spoke of predatory patience rather than bestial rage. Noah spun toward the sound, Excaliburn rising to guard position, void energy already coiling around the blade in anticipation. Whatever was coming down those stairs moved with a fluidity that his enhanced perception could barely track. Every instinct he’d developed through months of combat was screaming warnings. ’Something’s wrong. This doesn’t feel like any Harbinger I’ve faced before. The movement pattern is all wrong, too controlled, too—’ The creature that emerged from the shadows was unlike anything in Noah’s experience. Where typical Harbingers were built like walking siege engines—all brutal angles and raw destructive power—this one possessed an alien elegance that was somehow more disturbing than outright brutality. It wore what could only be described as armor, but armor unlike anything Noah had seen. Form-fitting pieces that resembled a warrior’s outfit adapted for distinctly inhuman anatomy. Scaled sections flowed around legs that were built for speed and agility rather than pure crushing strength. The fitted torso piece accommodated alien physiology while maintaining perfect freedom of movement. And rising from its skull were three horns arranged in perfect symmetrical curves, each one gleaming with an inner light that hurt to look at directly. But it was the obviously feminine characteristics that made Noah’s analytical mind stutter for the first time in months. The broader hips, narrower shoulders, and facial features that were distinctly different from the masculine brutality of every Harbinger he’d encountered. ’What the hell—’ The attack came faster than conscious thought. One moment the creature was thirty feet away at the base of the stairs, the next it was inside Noah’s guard, moving at speeds that made his Mach 2 capabilities look pedestrian. Clawed fingers raked across his chest, shredding through Knight Grace’s void shell and the armor beneath like they were made of tissue paper. Noah barely managed a desperate void blink backward, blood streaming from four parallel gashes across his torso. He looked up to see the creature studying him with intelligent, predatory eyes that held none of the mindless hunger he’d learned to expect from Harbinger encounters. This wasn’t just another alien monster. This was something infinitely more dangerous. [URGENT QUEST ACTIVATED] [OBJECTIVE: Survive the Harbinger Widow] [WARNING: Threat Level - EXTREME] [REWARD: Unknown]

Chapter 342: Femme fatale

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