The General's Firepower

Milo, now transformed into his "Demolisher" form, turned toward where the others stood after tossing the shattered remains of Podbe's body onto the ground. Like an electric flash illuminating a stormy sky, he appeared before them in the blink of an eye. Drake, with his fists clenched and knuckles white from tension, was beyond words, consumed by the rage boiling within him. His gaze burned with hatred toward his own brother, memories flooding back—his grandson who never got to live, the lives of his children cut tragically short. Deep down, he knew he carried guilt too: he had been reckless, bringing them on missions from such a young age.

"All of you, on guard!" Drake roared, his voice thundering through the desolate ruins. The echo reverberated off the cracked walls, charging the air with an almost palpable electricity as shadows danced uneasily under the dim, flickering light.

Adia reacted instantly, summoning chains of energy that shot toward Milo, glowing with a brilliant azure light. But before they could even graze him, the chains disintegrated like spiderwebs caught in a storm. Benjamín seized the moment, transforming into a colossal fox, its tail fusing with the rough texture of a hammerhead shark. With a guttural roar, he lunged at Milo, attempting to crush him beneath his immense weight. However, Milo dodged with the ease of lightning, zigzagging across the sky, grabbing the scaled tip of Benjamin's tail and hurling him against a nearby wall with a deafening crash.

"No!" Riota shouted, enraged by the brutality with which Milo had treated his best friend. His eyes ignited with a golden glow as he charged toward him, ready to strike. But Milo knew the boy's power well. From his abdomen emerged dark, serpentine tentacles writhing with a life of their own. Before Riota could reach him, one of the tentacles stopped him cold, wrapping around him from head to toe. Effortlessly, Milo flung him toward a nearby pillar, accompanied by a blinding orb of light that exploded in a violent burst.

"Damn you!" Gat snarled, his voice thick with barely contained fury as his eyes burned with a fierce intensity. Though he had always quarreled with Riota, deep in his heart, he felt a loyalty toward him as strong as that of a blood brother. Seeing him taken down so brutally awakened something primal inside him—a mix of rage and helplessness that made him tremble. Clenching his teeth until they nearly ground together, he raised his hands and fired bursts of energy from his fingertips, crackling through the air like miniature lightning bolts. But Milo barely glanced at him, his indifferent expression tinged with disdain.

"Pathetic," he spat, his voice as cold as steel. "Even those two kids have better powers than you."

With a swift motion, he struck Gat directly in the stomach. The impact was devastating: blood sprayed into the air as Gat's body went flying, propelled by the sheer force of the blow.

Ezequiel and Eduard exchanged a determined glance before advancing together toward Milo. Each prepared their attack, concentrating energy in their fists until they glowed with intensity.

"You bastard!" they shouted in unison, charging forward. But Milo was too fast. With a fluid motion, he unleashed electric discharges from his hands, sending both flying toward where Gat had fallen moments earlier.

Adia, enraged, conjured a combined ray of fire and electricity that sliced through the air like a burning whip. Milo dodged it with a mocking smile and countered with an equally powerful blast, hurling her back toward the defeated group. Mukio and Adora, along with the gummy bears created by Amaya, attempted a new assault. But their attacks were repelled just as easily: Milo extended both hands, releasing electric shocks that electrocuted everyone, leaving them sprawled at his feet.

Desperate, Adrian and Rafael constructed an army of metallic robots from the wreckage of the ones they'd destroyed earlier. The robots advanced toward Milo, their gears screeching ominously. However, Milo simply raised an eyebrow and unleashed an incinerating beam that reduced the machines to ashes. With an elegant flick of his tentacles, he ensnared Adrian and Rafael by the waist, electrocuting them instantly.

"This power always seemed useless to me," he sneered before slamming them onto the ground with devastating force.

Floud, determined not to give up, unleashed a combined burst of fire, air, water, and earth that roared like a primordial storm. But even that failed to harm Milo. With a single tentacle, he grabbed Floud by the leg and slammed him into the ground with a sharp thud.

"These kids today are so disrespectful," Milo remarked with a cold laugh, his voice echoing cruelly.

Gabriel, who had once been called Milo and later renamed The Dark Knight Sir Larot, seemed to snap out of his confusion. Alongside Aragon, they activated the third form of AURA, enveloping Milo in searing flames shaped like a dragon. For a moment, they thought they had achieved something. But when the flames dissipated, Milo stood there, unscathed.

"If you'd done that earlier, maybe you would've made a difference," he said with a twisted smile before returning their attack multiplied tenfold. The explosion created a massive crater in the ground, leaving Gabriel and Aragon unconscious.

Azulema, along with her team, activated their telekinesis to halt Milo's relentless advance. With closed eyes and concentration etched on their faces, they formed an invisible yet palpable barrier that vibrated with pure energy.

"This is as far as you go," Azulema declared, telepathically connected to her team. Her voice rang clear and firm in their minds. "Do not break formation."

However, Milo smirked with disdain. With a deafening roar, he unleashed a shockwave that shattered the barrier as if it were glass. The force of the impact sent all members of the team flying backwards, crashing to the ground with a dull thud.

"Another power I find useless," Milo remarked with icy sarcasm, his voice sharp as the edge of a freshly polished blade. A twisted smile spread across his face as his eyes gleamed with cruel mockery. "Maybe it works for those with hollow minds," he jeered, dragging out each word with a hint of contempt, making every syllable resonate like a direct insult.

Piti watched from the shadows, her hands trembling slightly as she checked on each of the companions who had fallen to Milo. Gently, she dragged them to a safe place, ensuring they were together and protected. Her eyes reflected a mix of concern and determination, though she knew her role wasn't to fight directly.

On the other hand, Becky stayed close behind Drake, her arms crossed over her chest as if trying to shield herself from something far greater than herself. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and she murmured to herself:

"I'm not cut out for combat… This isn't for me."

Drake, however, had no time for doubts. With unyielding resolve, he advanced to one side and materialized figures representing each of his allies: a mage like Adia, her hands glowing with incandescent energy; a fighter like Ezequiel, muscles taut and ready to strike; a psychic like Azulema, her eyes radiating mental power; a technician like Adrian, surrounded by floating holograms and circuits; and an ethereal being like Eduard, whose form seemed to fluctuate between the tangible and the unknown. All these creations charged at Milo in a coordinated assault.

But Milo didn't even blink. With just a few precise strikes, he obliterated all the materializations within seconds. He moved so fast it was almost impossible to track him with the naked eye.

"He's incredibly strong," Drake muttered, his voice heavy with frustration and disbelief.

Milo grinned, revealing predator-like sharp teeth.

"I'm tired of playing with you, little brother," he declared coldly. "It's time for you and your team to die."

"What are you doing, Milo?" Drake shouted, struggling to maintain his composure. "If you keep this up, you'll destroy the planet!"

"Destroy it?" Milo retorted with a mocking laugh. "I wouldn't call it that. I'm creating a new world, one in my image. Only the strong will survive."

"You're still clinging to that nonsense," Drake responded, incredulous.

With a swift motion, Milo extended his tentacles and ensnared Drake, immobilizing him instantly. The tentacles tightened with crushing force, eliciting a muffled cry of pain.

"Why did you bother rematerializing that arm model?" Milo sneered, his voice dripping with biting mockery as he tilted his head as if observing something pitiful. "It's insignificant... and clearly useless to you. You should upgrade."

Without giving Drake time to respond, Milo extended his tentacles with bone-chilling speed and grabbed the gauntlet-like arm, its metallic surface still faintly glowing under the dim light. With a deafening metallic crunch, he crushed it effortlessly, reducing it to twisted fragments that fell to the ground with a hollow clink. The remains of the gauntlet lay scattered like broken relics of a lost battle.

"Alright, what next? The other arm? The legs?" Milo taunted, laughing as he looked at his brother with a demonic expression.

"No… If you're going to finish me off, just do it," Drake growled, his voice hoarse but firm.

"I changed my mind," Milo replied with a cruel smile that revealed his sharp teeth, gleaming under the faint light like freshly sharpened blades. "It's better to watch you suffer. And maybe I'll do the same to your agents."

He slowly licked his lips, savoring every second of the moment, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic glint that chilled the blood. His voice was a venomous whisper, heavy with threat.

"Besides," he continued, his tone dripping with arrogance as he extended his tentacles in a fluid motion, like eager snakes ready to strike, "I want to keep testing my new abilities in this form I call the 'demolisher mode.' Because, frankly—" He paused dramatically, looking at Drake and the others with absolute disdain—"you are nothing compared to me. You're squashed like insignificant flies. Hence, the name." He let out a piercing laugh that echoed through the air like the distant rumble of thunder, mocking his own cruelty.

At that precise moment, a blinding beam struck Milo in the back, catching him off guard and interrupting his laughter. The blow was so intense that it forced him to release Drake, who collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Becky rushed to him, helping him to his feet as both tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"What the hell is that?" Milo muttered, spinning quickly to face his new attacker.

An authoritative voice rang out:

"Keep targeting him! Don't let him move!"

"Understood, sir!" several voices responded in unison.

Drake, still recovering, looked up at the figure emerging from the shadows. His face reflected both surprise and disbelief.

"G… General," he stammered, confused. "But… what are you doing here? And what is that thing?"

The tall, robust figure of the General emerged into the dim light. He was an older man, advanced in years, but his presence commanded respect. Far from showing signs of senility or weakness, his body was marked by prominent muscles that outlined his military uniform. His single brown eye gleamed with intensity, while the patch covering his right eye hinted at a deep scar crossing his face. His neatly trimmed gray hair completed his intimidating appearance. In his right hand, he held a lit cigar, its ember glowing faintly like a small beacon in the gloom.

"What's up, Drake?" the General greeted calmly, his deep and measured voice cutting through the tension.

But what truly left Drake speechless wasn't the appearance of the General—it was the object accompanying him. A gigantic turret, the size of a washing machine, stood imposingly at his side. Its metallic surface gleamed with a grayish hue under the dim light, and a constant hum emanated from within, vibrating in the air like a swarm of mechanical bees. A pulsating beam of bluish energy erupted from its cannon, enveloping Milo in a force field that kept him immobilized. The glow of the beam flickered intermittently, casting dancing shadows on the nearby walls.

"Zeus, Milo, or whatever name you go by now, surrender," the General ordered with unwavering severity, his deep voice resonating like thunder in the tense silence of the place. "You're under the power of my finest weapon, the one that will put an end to anyone who abuses their strength for selfish gain. Your father would be ashamed of your actions."

Milo frowned, visibly irritated. His lips tightened as his teeth clenched with force, as if trying to contain both his rage and the pain the beam was inflicting. Beads of sweat began to trickle down his forehead, glistening under the flickering light of the area. However, in his eyes, there was a glimmer of curiosity mixed with disbelief, as though he were assessing the situation with a blend of caution and fascination.

"Meet my greatest weapon," the General continued, pointing to the turret with poorly concealed pride. His upright posture and resolute expression exuded absolute confidence. "I call it the B-12."