Chapter 22: Ember City Massacre – Part 4

A Battle of Titans

BOOM!

The force of the collision sent shockwaves through the western district as Simon and Bethalamoew clashed once again, their fists meeting in a bone-crushing impact. The sheer force rippled through the air, shattering nearby walls and causing the ground beneath them to split apart.

Simon grinned as he felt the impact reverberate through his arm.

"Not bad," he admitted, shaking out his fist. "For a walking scrap heap."

Bethalamoew said nothing, his cybernetic eye flashing red as he analyzed Simon's movements in real-time. His metallic muscles tensed, steam venting from his arms as he suddenly dashed forward at blinding speed.

Simon barely managed to react. A split-second too late.

BANG!

A devastating punch from Bethalamoew's enhanced fist landed squarely on Simon's ribs, sending him flying through a collapsed warehouse. Metal beams snapped like twigs as he crashed through them, finally slamming into a steel factory wall, denting it on impact.

Simon groaned, pulling himself from the debris, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Alright, that one hurt." He cracked his neck and wiped his lip, his golden eyes glinting with excitement.

Bethalamoew stepped forward, his footsteps heavy against the cracked ground. "You're fast," he admitted in a monotone voice. "But you lack the power to break me."

Simon smirked. "Oh yeah?"

In a flash, Simon disappeared.

Bethalamoew's scanners barely caught him before—

THWACK!

Simon appeared behind him, landing a brutal kick to Bethalamoew's back. The cyborg stumbled forward, but before he could react, Simon vanished again.

WHAM!

This time, Simon drove his fist into Bethalamoew's jaw, sending the massive cyborg skidding backward, his feet tearing through the rubble beneath them.

Bethalamoew's eye flickered as he quickly recalibrated. "Your speed… is an anomaly."

Simon rolled his shoulders. "And I'm not even warmed up yet."

Bethalamoew flexed his fingers, his metal plating shifting as his arms expanded—a mechanical transformation revealing reinforced gauntlets, thick enough to crush steel like paper.

Simon narrowed his eyes. Things were about to get serious.

⸻

Meanwhile, in the eastern district, the streets were ablaze with destruction.

Katsu panted heavily, his arms covered in burns and bruises as he glared at Caleb Be, who stood unfazed, his stone-coated body gleaming under the crimson sky.

"Heh," Caleb smirked, rolling his shoulders. "You're putting up a decent fight, but let's be real—you're barely scratching me."

Katsu clenched his fists. He knew Caleb wasn't lying.

His fire attacks were powerful—but they lacked the sheer force needed to break through Caleb's stone armor.

"You're hesitating," Caleb taunted, stepping forward. "I can see it in your eyes. You don't even know if you belong here, do you?"

Katsu's breath hitched.

"Rankers kill. Rankers destroy. Rankers don't hesitate." Caleb cracked his neck, his body glowing as his stone form hardened even more. "And you? You're a joke."

Caleb charged.

Katsu barely had time to react before Caleb's fist came crashing toward him. He dodged to the side, but the sheer force of the punch tore through the air, sending a shockwave that shattered a nearby streetlamp.

Katsu retaliated, flames surging from his palms as he launched a flaming uppercut—only for Caleb to catch his arm mid-swing.

Katsu's eyes widened.

"Too slow," Caleb whispered before he drove his knee into Katsu's stomach.

CRACK!

Katsu gasped in pain, saliva flying from his mouth as his body was sent flying into a nearby storefront, glass shattering around him as he collapsed onto the pavement.

He coughed violently, struggling to get back on his feet.

Caleb stomped toward him, his sadistic grin widening.

"This is why I love fighting weaklings like you," he said, cracking his knuckles. "You're fun to break."

Katsu gritted his teeth, his flames flickering weakly as his body trembled.

But before Caleb could make another move—

A rock flew through the air and struck him on the back of the head.

Caleb froze.

Katsu blinked.

Then another rock.

And another.

Caleb slowly turned, his expression darkening.

A crowd of civilians had gathered a few meters away—wounded, terrified, but defiant.

One of them, a man covered in soot and blood, stepped forward, holding up a battered flag.

The flag rippled in the wind, its insignia clear—a broken chain with a sword through it.

"We are the Resistance!" the man declared, his voice hoarse but filled with determination.

Caleb stared at them, his eye twitching. Then he grinned.

"Oh?" He licked his lips. "This just got a whole lot more fun."

Katsu, still kneeling on the ground, stared at the group in shock.

"…The Resistance?"

To be continued…