Chaos Core

After eliminating the nearest targets, Asrel crouched low behind a huge rock. His eyes darted through the smoke, the scent of burnt bodies and scorched cloth thick in the air. Sparks flickered from wrecked equipment, and the distant cries of wounded Wardens barely pierced the chaos.

He took a brief moment to assess the battlefield. The two haulers were under heavy fire. The front one, had lost a portion of its armor plating, and fires licked its exposed side. The second hauler, the one that carried the miners, was in far worse shape. It rocked violently with each blast, metal groaning under stress.

Through the smoke and disarray, Asrel saw silhouettes moving. The Wardens were fighting back, some returning fire while dragging the injured to whatever cover they could find.

He tapped the side of his helmet. "Everyone, you can come out now. Head for the east ridge and take cover. Move fast." His voice carried urgency but remained sharp and clear.

He raised his hand and fired three flares into the night sky.

The darkness peeled back as the flares ignited mid-air, bathing the battlefield in a harsh, flickering orange glow. The world changed in an instant. Silhouettes solidified and shadows sharpened. Enemy formations revealed themselves in fragmented lines scattered across the ridge and hilltops.

"Rogues!" Rook's voice rang out just behind him. He had exited the vehicle and rifle already in hand.

The rest of Unit 12 poured out from the transport one after another, no time was wasted on hesitation.They stuck close to the armored flanks of the vehicle, keeping low as sporadic fire cracked across the battlefield.

"Fan out! Maintain line of sight, but stay in cover!" Rook's voice snapped through their earpieces.

The team scattered with smooth efficiency, diving behind anything that could stop a round. Pulses of Flux fire zipped overhead as return fire lit up the dark.

Asrel took a knee, firing several bolts toward muzzle flashes on the far ridge.

"Who are they?" he asked through the comms, tracking targets as he spoke.

"Independent operators. Outlaws. They abandoned the Sanctuaries and built lawless cities outside the borders." Rook replied. "Most are exiles or criminals using stolen tech and war salvage."

Then...

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The ground trembled violently as one of the haulers, the one with the miners took a direct barrage. Its reinforced plating cracked, buckled, then exploded in a thunderous shockwave that flattened nearby ground and lit the battlefield in a white flash. The sound of screams was brief. The explosion had swallowed them whole.

"Shit!" Rook snarled. "We've lost the miners. Return fire! Cover the Wardens!"

The tide shifted.

Asrel moved again. With a burst of speed, he sprinted between fragments of broken metal and smoking crates. His blade ignited with swirling chaos energy, and his rifle snapped up to strike. Every step he took brought him closer to the attackers. When he finally closed the distance, he became a blur.

He slid beneath a barrage of enemy fire, the first rogue never saw him coming, his rifle was still mid-reload when Asrel's blade drove through his chest. Another tried to backpedal, only to be pierced through the helmet by a bolt of chaos.

Behind him, the Wardens used the lull to evacuate the survivors from the damaged hauler. Screams mixed with barking orders as they carried the injured to safer positions. Smoke trails and tracers filled the sky.

Suddenly

"Where's Unit 6?" Dietrich's voice came over the comms.

There was no response.

The realization hit like a blow to the gut.

Pew. Pew. Pew.

A second wave of bolts rained down on the convoy, this time from the left ridge. Another ambush.

"They're flanking us!" someone shouted.

Asrel erected a barrier, blocking the incoming attacks. He then spread his senses and enhanced his vision. Then he saw them. A large force, easily over fifty enemies, was advancing under cover of smoke and dust, and among them were the armor signatures of Unit 6.

He froze.

His jaw clenched beneath the helmet. "They're with the rogues," he said grimly. "Unit 6… they betrayed us."

"What?!" Kick gasped.

Asrel's voice darkened. "They led us here, waited for us to confirm the mithril vein… then planned to wipe us out."

He pieced it together, Unit 6 had reported the ruins. Their timing, their willingness to escort. It was all a setup. They never intended for the others to return.

Asrel's hands trembled with fury. His Chaos Core spun violently, energy churning. He raised his arm and conjured a massive bolt of Chaos energy, letting it build and coil in his palm until it became a shrieking orb of spiraling power.

With a snarl, he hurled it forward.

The bolt tore through the sky like a falling star, struck the enemy ridge, and exploded in a cascading blast of velvet flame. The ridge cracked and fire roared. Dozens of enemies were incinerated on impact, their screams lost to the detonation.

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Then the air was filled again with shouting, gunfire, and desperate commands, but this time, it was the rogues who were disoriented.

Amidst the chaos, Asrel stood as his figure wrapped in smoke and fury, armor blistered and blackened from the earlier blasts.

He didn't wait.

Asrel surged forward and charged straight into where the Unit 6 are. He raised his rifle, tendrils of Chaos energy had seeped into its structure, infecting the once-stable circuits and crystal channels with crimson light.

With every step, the rifle warped further, the barrel elongating slightly, the magazine swelling, veins of glowing red crawling over its surface. It was no longer a standard weapon.

'Just like how my body changed before…' he thought briefly, then accepted the transformation. "Corruption," he murmured, a fitting name for this power, born of Chaos and unpredictability.

He fired.

Each shot ripped through the air with a violent shriek. The corrupted rifle kicked harder in his grip, but its power was undeniable. Projectiles, like spikes of chaos-bound kinetic force, punched through enemy barriers like paper. Explosions of flux-reactive discharge tore men from cover. One by one, the Rogues fell under his advancing fire.

Then he saw him. Gil, the leader of Unit 6, now a traitor and the orchestrator of this ambush. The man raised his blade, its edge glinting faintly with resonance.

"You bastards!" Asrel roared as he hurled the rifle aside. His blade, which is now under "Corruption" took form in his hand, a crimson edge hissing with violent energy.

Gil met him in stride, and their blades clashed. The force of their collision rang like a bell across the battlefield.

Gil was good, quick and controlled, a veteran of dozens of sorties. But the power behind Asrel's blade shook him. His guard faltered for a second, and he instinctively disengaged, leaping back to reassess.

Too slow.

Asrel had already summoned a storm of Chaos spears mid-air, and before Gil could stabilize, the spears crashed into him, ripping through armor, piercing the air with screams of metal and flesh.

He fell.

The rest of Unit 6 cried out, rushing toward their fallen leader, but before they could reach him, a third party intervened.

"Enough," came a calm voice through an altered comm filter. A tall figure in dark armor suit stepped forward, hand raised.

The remaining Unit 6 halted.

"We need you alive to spin the story back at the Outpost," the man added, tone like iron.

Then he turned toward Asrel.

The moment their eyes met, Asrel felt it an undercurrent of danger beneath the battlefield's noise. Something shifted below him.

His body moved before thought could catch up.

A surge of flux ignited beneath where he'd stood just a breath earlier, detonating violently and hurling dirt and flame skyward.

'Trap?' he thought, narrowing his eyes. No, this was more than just mines.

Another spike, this time beside him.

He dodged again.

'He's placing explosive flux charges instantly.'

Asrel gathered his thoughts. His opponent wasn't just an expert, he was likely Blessed.

Asrel rushed forward, zig-zagging across the uneven terrain. Another blast erupted behind him. Then another.

The masked man spoke. "How are you dodging them?"

Asrel didn't respond. His eyes narrowed, mind sharpening like a blade. . He was busy studying the battlefield, tracing the unseen threads of energy that pulsed just beneath the surface. Every fluctuation in the air, every shift in the hum of Flux around him, he could feel it.

He was tracking the rhythm of his enemy's power.

This opponent could summon explosive charges out of thin air, detonating them with perfect precision. The energy patterns didn't follow conventional paths, they manifested suddenly, dangerously close, often from blind spots. A normal soldier would have been torn apart within seconds. But Asrel's enhanced senses let him feel those distortions a heartbeat before they ruptured. Without them, he would've already been dead.

He shifted his stance, posture low and fluid. Then, in an instant, he dashed forward, deliberately slower.

A pulse of Flux flared ahead.

There it is.

Another mine-like charge materialized to block his path, sizzling with unstable energy. But Asrel didn't sidestep like before. This time, he surged forward with a burst of speed, cutting the distance in a blink. The detonation roared behind him as he broke through the pressure line.

The enemy recoiled, caught off guard by the change in tempo.

Asrel's blade cleaved through the smoke, aimed at the man's ribs.

But just before contact, Asrel felt it, a ripple in space, sharp and sudden.

Teleportation.

He pivoted, twisting his body with practiced instinct. His blade snapped around and met the opponents blade. A ringing crack echoed as their blades collided, locking for a brief instant. Sparks burst like firecrackers as the two forces clashed in a halo of light and force.

The enemy retreated in a blink, teleporting several meters back.

They both stood still for a moment, breaths silent but measured, eyes locked.

"So that is your Blessing," Asrel said, voice low and steady, probing for more than confirmation. He wanted to rattle him and break his concentration.

The man didn't respond, but Asrel saw the tension in his stance. A flicker of hesitation.

Asrel kept moving, never letting the rhythm settle. Explosions chased his steps, blossoms of blue and white flashing behind him. The masked man conjured detonations along Asrel's predicted path, but each one was avoided by a hair's breadth. Chaos energy surged along Asrel's limbs, bolstering his reflexes, expanding his awareness.

Then came his counter.

Asrel flung a volley of Chaos bolts, meant to limit the enemy's movement options.

The man teleported through two of them, barely avoiding the third.

So he can only teleport within short bursts and only one at a time.

The battle became a dance. Destruction howled across the broken ground as the duel pushed both of them harder with each passing second.

Asrel's mind raced, then he stopped, halting his advance mid-stride.

He had been seeding the battlefield with his Chaos energy for some time now, scattering it like unseen tendrils across the terrain, waiting for the right moment to tighten his grip.

A slow breath left his lips, and his eyes narrowed.

"Let's see how you run this time."

With a sharp exhale, Asrel kicked off the ground, the soil erupting beneath him as he launched forward. His body blurred with speed, a streak of crimson light cutting through the field.

Across the distance, his opponent instinctively activated his ability, teleportation. But something was wrong.

His breath hitched.

The space around him felt dense, like pushing through molasses. The very air clung to him, heavy and unnatural.

The localized space had become distorted, twisted by the Chaos energy Asrel had laced into the battlefield. What should have been an instant movement now demanded effort.

His teleportation faltered.

Asrel was already upon him, his blade raised, the edge crackling with corrupted force. The enemy's eyes widened beneath the mask. He abandoned the idea of escape and threw up a hasty barrier, conjuring a hexagonal dome of luminous energy.

The strike landed.

A deafening crack echoed across the field as Asrel's blade smashed into the barrier. Then it shattered.

The fragments of the barrier exploded like glass under pressure, and the masked man was sent hurtling backwards. His body skidded across the dirt, bouncing once before tumbling through the remnants of broken stone and splintered terrain.

Asrel landed a clean hit.