The Argos's miniguns erupted with a deafening roar, unleashing a torrent of bullets that tore through the advancing horde like a hurricane of death. Shell casings rained down in a metallic symphony, clattering against the ground as Carlos surged forward with his massive halberd gleaming under the dim light.
Each swing of the weapon cleaved through mutated flesh with brutal precision, sending grotesque limbs and shattered bodies flying in every direction. Yet, for every creature he felled, twenty more seemed to rise from the shadows, drawn to the chaos like moths to a flame.
But the Argos was no ordinary suit of armor. It wasn't just a machine, it was a living, breathing entity, the culmination of Cleo's genius. Battle armor engineering had never been her forte, but AI development? That was her domain.