cHApTEr 12. unTil TwisTED killEr Do us pArT (2 of 3)

Moments later, the backup arrived just as the pale woman requested. Four more hover cars squeezed through the narrow alley entrance and burst into the parking lot. Their engines hissed as they lowered to the ground, and more of the Order’s operatives spilled out, assault rifles at the ready. Like the previous squad, they were clad in yellow hazmat suits, their faces hidden behind sealed helmets with mirrored visors that glinted in the artificial light.

As soon as they took up their positions, they opened fire on Impact Corpse. At first, it seemed futile. Bullets tore into him, but the monstrous giant regenerated almost instantly. Yet Mioray noticed that even with that rapid regeneration, Impact Corpse couldn’t keep pace with the relentless storm of bullets. Flesh and skin were being shredded faster than he could repair them. The giant roared, but the sound was steeped more in frustration than fury.

Somehow, against all odds, the Order of Mercy had gained the upper hand. Mioray could hardly believe it. Sixteen new operatives were managing to suppress the monster he thought was unstoppable. Still, it was a temporary victory at best. Sooner or later, the bullets would run out, and they won’t have anything to fight Impact Corpse with.

From the original squad, only two operatives remained alive. Mioray saw them as they staggered toward him. Erinel breathed heavily, and low grunts of pain escaped her lips. No matter what she said before, she was clearly injured and weakening. She needed medical attention, and fast. Though Mioray had no idea whether human treatment would even work on a greanrip, the point was moot if the two approaching operatives meant to finish them off. They both raised their rifles and took aim.

Amber slime burst through the air, splashing across the barrels of their weapons. Mioray saw it a split second before they pulled their triggers. The rifles exploded in their hands, metal and fire bursting outward in violent plumes. Blood sprayed into the air as both operatives staggered backward, maimed. Yet disturbingly, they didn’t even scream. They just stood there, stunned, as blood poured from their arms. It wasn’t until they lost enough to fall unconscious that their bodies finally hit the ground.

“I’m sorry!” a child’s voice rang out, panicked and trembling. “I didn’t mean to kill them! I didn’t!”

Mioray turned toward the voice and saw Matt crouched behind a car, clutching his head in distress. Kevin was beside him, yanking him down just as three more Order operatives broke away from the main fight and charged toward them. But before they reached Kevin and Matt, gunfire cracked through the air, and bullets punched through the mirrored visors. All three operatives crumpled.

Natalie stepped forward, lowering her handgun. Farah followed close behind.

“How’s Erinel?” Farah asked as she and Natalie joined Mioray. The other operatives continued flanking Impact Corpse, still managing to hold the line and buying precious seconds of respite.

“I’m fine,” Erinel said, trying to stand. She failed. The only reason she didn’t hit the pavement was because Mioray was still holding her upright. “I’m just… a little bit tired.”

“Tell that to someone who’s not looking at you,” Farah replied, eyeing her skeptically. “You look like blue cheese. The kind with holes.”

“Is it that bad?” Natalie asked, keeping watch on members of the Order firing at Impact Corpse.

“If you could see her, you’d wonder how she’s still breathing.”

Together, Mioray and Farah helped Erinel to her feet. She weighed no more than an average woman, so it wasn’t too difficult. Still, she looked awful. Her clothing hung in blood-soaked tatters, dyed deep green. The only reason she wasn’t already dead was because her bleeding wasn’t as rapid as a human’s would be under the same circumstances. Her red blood oozed slowly, turning green as it flowed. It wasn’t stopping.

“For god’s sake, don’t just focus on him, deal with those intruders too!” someone shouted over the deafening gunfire. “They’re going to escape!”

Mioray swore under his breath. That pale woman again, she was proving to be a problem. Six of the Order's operatives, all in yellow hazmat suits, stopped firing at Impact Corpse, who was still roaring and struggling to heal. Instead, they redirected toward the van where Mioray and the others had gathered.

“Quickly! Inside the van!” Natalie shouted.

The detective grabbed the rear doors and yanked them open. Everything was happening at once – gunfire, shouts, movement – chaotic and blinding. Mioray and Farah helped Erinel toward the open van. He caught a brief glimpse of the seven remaining operatives still holding off Impact Corpse, but it was clearly not enough anymore. The giant stepped forward, his glowing red irises reigniting with raw fury.

Across the lot, the bloodied pale woman stood near a wall, phone pressed to her ear. No doubt she was summoning more backup.

The six approaching operatives were closing in, rifles raised and ready to fire. Back near the cars, Kevin tried to steady a panicking Matt, urging him to use his slime again. The boy obeyed, but his aim was wild. He only managed to glue one operative’s feet to the pavement.

Natalie dove into the van and managed to shoot two of the approaching enemies before the rest unleashed a barrage of bullets in return. Mioray and Farah hauled Erinel inside, and Mioray jumped in after her. He spun around to help Farah–

The thunder of automatic rounds would have torn through the van’s interior if not for Farah. She grabbed one of the rear doors and slammed it shut, shielding everyone inside, but in doing so, she stepped directly into the line of fire.

Bullets shredded through her coat. She grasped the other door, trying to stay upright, but Mioray saw the light dimming from her cold green eyes.

“They... fucked up my… coat,” Farah muttered, her gaze distant and unfocused, before collapsing, blood seeping steadily through the fresh holes torn in her back.

There was too much damage for her to be able to control her bloodflow. Farah crumpled to the ground, her back exposed and brutally shredded. A dark pool began spreading beneath her, feeding out from her torn flesh. Mioray didn’t even have time to fully register what had happened before Natalie reached over and slammed the second door shut, cutting off the outside light.

But not the sound.

Gunfire continued to echo beyond the walls. Impact Corpse’s roar shook the air, and the very ground trembled. He was moving again, likely detonating himself in another devastating blast.

“Farah saved our lives,” Natalie said through clenched teeth. “She gave her life to protect us.”

“She’s not dead,” Mioray replied, his voice low. “I mean, she is, but she’ll come back.”

“If we make it out of this, maybe,” Natalie snapped. “What were you thinking, Mioray?! Why the hell did you put all of us in that kind of danger?!”

“I didn’t set anyone up!” Mioray shot back. “I was trying to save Erinel! They were going to kill her!”

“Oh, that Erinel,” Natalie spat. “The one I’m not even sure is real? I wouldn’t blink if she died.”

Mioray didn’t respond. He figured her anger was justified, but for him, it wasn’t so simple. He didn’t want Erinel to die. And whatever mistakes he’d made, they bought her more time. She now lay quietly across his lap, breathing softly. Her breath, warm, but faint, drifted across his face.

In the dark, Natalie shifted and rustled through something. A moment later, she clicked on a flashlight, its beam cutting through the gloom and illuminating the interior of the van. Finally, they could see it, the mysterious thing so important the Order of Mercy had to strike a deal with the police to get their hands on it.

And, as expected, it was her. It was Mia.

Or what was supposed to be her, at least. She was strapped to a chair embedded in the center of the van, but her body looked more deconstructed than regenerating. The impression came from the fact that Mia was only halfway through the healing process. Her head, with eyes closed, had mostly reformed, though patches of skin were still missing, and her right cheekbone was fully exposed, connecting directly to the upper jaw like a half-sculpted medical model. In the yawning cavity of her chest, her heart hung suspended, motionless. Below that, her torso was raw, exposed muscle and sinew – nothing but red tissue where organs should’ve been. It reminded Mioray of the old anatomical dolls from school. Luckily, Mia’s legs and arms were mostly restored, save for a missing index finger on her right hand.

But that wasn’t all. On a metal table next to Mia, Mioray spotted glass containers filled with other parts of her. Ribs still growing muscle tissue, tangled intestines, and a few other indistinguishable lumps of flesh, half-formed and grotesque. It raised uncomfortable questions: had someone been overseeing her regeneration, making sure it went the correct way? Or was she just left to heal in this horrific, piecemeal way? Judging from the containers and their careful arrangement, someone had been involved. But now wasn’t the time to think about it.

With a sickening whump, something heavy slammed into the van from outside, tilting it sharply to one side. Mioray instinctively tightened his hold on Erinel, keeping her from sliding off his lap. Natalie, standing and staring at Mia in disbelief, had to brace herself against the van’s inner wall. A couple of the glass containers crashed to the floor, shattering loudly and releasing the stench of exposed tissue.

“Is that your friend?” Natalie asked, her voice low.

Mioray nodded.

Outside, the chaos continued. Rifles clattered, but Impact Corpse’s monstrous roar was growing louder, eclipsing everything.

“Kevin, what’s the situation on your side?” Natalie spoke into her earpiece, her tone urgent.

“We’re safe behind the cars, but it’s getting intense out here,” Kevin’s voice crackled through. “They shifted focus to us after you got inside the van. Impact Corpse is still keeping most of them busy, but I think they’re running low on ammo. Their shots are getting slower. He managed to blast one away– Matt, watch out!”

“That’s it. I’m going outside.” Natalie turned sharply toward the rear doors.

“Are you mad?!” Mioray called after her. “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“No, I won’t,” she said confidently. “I can’t see Erinel, which means I’m not going to die anytime soon.”

“You might not die,” Mioray said grimly, “but you can get hurt. And honestly, there are times when dying might be better than surviving broken. Don’t you think so?”

Natalie paused. Her expression flickered. It wasn’t fear, but something thoughtful.

“Fine. What do you propose?” she asked, turning to face Mioray fully. “We can’t just sit here. Sooner or later, Impact Corpse or the Order’s goons are going to infiltrate this van.”

Mioray clenched his fists. What could he possibly propose? Again and again, he’d found himself powerless, despite the training, despite the effort. It always felt like it wasn’t enough.

Farah was down, bleeding out just outside the van. Kevin and Matt were still under fire, barely holding on. The Order operatives might run out of ammo eventually, and Impact Corpse could take care of the rest, but hoping for those mindless killings... It felt wrong. Besides, it wasn’t like Impact Corpse was their ally. Once he dealt with the people in hazmat suits, he’d come for them too.

Then there was the pale woman. The last time Mioray saw her, she was on the phone. If she did call for more backup, it could arrive at any moment. And she had the keys to the van. If they wanted to get Mia out, if there was any hope of escaping with her, they needed to get those keys.

“They are dead, Mioray,” Erinel said suddenly, her voice frail.

Mioray blinked, thrown off by her words. Was she delirious?

“What?” he asked, confused.

“She’s saying something?” Natalie interjected, but Mioray ignored her, turning all his attention to Erinel.

She looked pale. Not to the point the woman from the Order was, but still worryingly drained.

“I know why they can see me,” Erinel whispered, trying to sit up despite Mioray’s instinctive attempt to stop her. She leaned back against the van’s inner wall, her breath shallow but steady.

“Yeah, it’s because of the glasses. We heard that girl mention them.”

“No,” she shook her head weakly. “Only she was wearing the glasses. The others didn’t need them to see me.”

Mioray froze. A grim thought hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Because… they’re already dead?”

Erinel gave a faint nod.

And suddenly, it all made sense. Why the Order operatives didn’t seem to care about getting shot or torn apart. Why they didn’t hesitate to risk their lives. Why there was no fear when Impact Corpse was ripping through their ranks. If they were already dead, revived by the Order of Mercy’s serum, they weren’t afraid to fall. They’d just come back.

“These yellow suits hide the aura of their souls,” Erinel continued. She shifted her finger into a small wooden branch and gently pushed it into Mioray’s chest, going through the clothes and flesh, right in the heart. “But once Impact Corpse ripped through the suits, I saw their soul auras leaking out. Their souls are outside their bodies, like yours is.”

Another loud crash hit the side of the van, denting the metal and rocking it again. Mioray’s body tensed, recognizing the sound. Just like last time, that probably meant another operative was downed by Impact Corpse. The world outside the van kept churning in chaos.

“I still don’t know what to do,” Mioray whispered, frustration pooling in his voice.

Erinel leaned in, her lips close to his ear. Her breath was warm despite everything.

“Just do what you always wanted to do,” she whispered, her voice feather-light. “Be a superhero.”

It stopped him cold. Superhero? It was so absurd, so oddly timed. It almost made him laugh. What did that even mean now? He couldn’t help Terry. Couldn’t save Claire, or Chris, or Julie. He was the same helpless fool who was running away when he first encountered Impact Corpse at the university.

But was he? Erinel’s words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep inside him. No. He wasn’t the same. Even back then, he managed to keep Juju alive. Later, he helped deal with the Soul Collective. Thanks to him, Erinel obtained the Cursed Blade of Avalon.

Mioray wasn’t perfect. Far from it. He lacked experience. But what hero doesn’t, at the beginning? The path ahead might be long, but time was on his side. He was already dead. He had all the time in the world. It didn’t matter if Erinel was lying or not. Deep down, he knew what he had to do.

“Matt, did you hear that?” Mioray spoke into his earpiece as he stood. “You didn’t kill anyone, because they were already dead!”

“That’s a relief, Mioray!” Matt said, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “But they hit Kevin, and I don’t know how long we can keep this up!”

“Don’t worry, Matt. I’m coming.”

Mioray set Mia’s severed finger down gently on the metal table and moved towards the door.

“What? What are you planning?” Natalie reached out, grabbing his shoulder. Her tone demanded answers.

“I’m going to get the keys from that girl,” Mioray said calmly. “Then we’ll get everyone into the van and escape. “Or die trying. Well, technically, we won’t die, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Natalie. Just wait for my signal. Oh, and, turns out these guys are also dead. Matt, can you bring Natalie up to speed?”

“You understand that’s crazy?” Natalie frowned.

“I do,” Mioray replied, grabbing the door handle. “But it’s not like we have many options. If I can hold out even a few seconds, I’ll call that a win.”

He cracked the door open, letting in the cold light of chaos. He jumped outside, leaping over Farah’s body lying limp in a pool of her own blood. Immediately, he was greeted by an Order operative, the one still glued to the pavement by Matt’s slime. The man raised his rifle to shoot, but Mioray was faster. He launched his leg forward, detaching it mid-stride, and kicked the weapon clean out of the operative’s hands. As the leg retracted back like a boomerang, Mioray closed the distance and grabbed the operative by the helmet.

With a grunt, Mioray performed what he called a Pump Attack – a move named in honor of Terry, who insisted every technique deserved a cool title. His arm shot forward with piston-like force, slamming the operative headfirst into the ground. Since the man’s feet were still stuck in place, his legs buckled awkwardly, folded at the knees as he crumpled.

The visor of the hazmat helmet shattered on impact, revealing the man’s face and with it, a faint mint-green glow began to seep out.

Erinel was telling the truth. That green aura forming around the body meant one thing – the man’s soul wasn’t inside him, it was tethered to the body, just like Mioray’s. Just like the others who had died and returned. The Restored. That’s what the pale woman had called them before.

The operative struggled to right himself, but the position he landed in made it near impossible. Mioray kicked the rifle farther away, then quickly scanned the battlefield to get his bearings.

Impact Corpse was drenched in blood from head to toe, but it was his soul aura that truly caught Mioray’s attention. His soul’s glow was jagged and unstable, its outline shredded by what looked like spiritual lightning. It made him appear more demonic than human, a berserker spirit cloaked in gore and fury. And the operatives in yellow hazmat suits surrounding him? They looked more like worshippers than enemies.

Five of them were still holding on, firing in short bursts to conserve what little ammo they had left. It was a losing battle. With a primal roar, Impact Corpse lunged forward, snatched one of the operatives mid-air, and without hesitation detonated both his own arm and the man he held. One undead less.

Across the lot, four other operatives were trying to trap Kevin and Matt between two parked cars. Kevin was dragging his leg, clearly wounded. Through his spiritual vision, Mioray could see the faint flicker of Kevin’s soul dimming. He was losing energy fast.

Then, a single gunshot rang out. It cut sharply through the rhythmic barrage of automatic fire, and Mioray felt the bullet tear past the side of his neck. Just a little more to the left, and it would’ve taken him down if he were unable to control his bloodflow.

He turned his head sharply, locking eyes with the pale woman. Her lilac gaze, angry and deadly behind her glasses, met his as a thin curl of smoke rose from the barrel of the handgun in her grip. She’d tried to take the shot herself. Thankfully, she wasn’t as precise as Natalie. If the detective had pulled that trigger, Mioray wouldn’t still be standing.

“Ugh, you’re all starting to get on my nerves!” the woman shouted, preparing for another shot.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Mioray grumbled as his arm launched through the air toward her. His fist slammed into her temple, knocking her clean off her feet. She fainted instantly, collapsing.

Without missing a beat, Mioray sprinted toward her, aiming to snatch the van keys from her, but suddenly, a bullet tore into his leg. He dropped hard onto the pavement, while his eyes darted to the source. An Order operative, half-crushed and bleeding out, was slumped nearby, dragging his ruined body just enough to fire at him. Another victim of Impact Corpse, who, armless once again, stood towering above the remaining operatives, ready to headbutt one of them into oblivion.

“Remember what I told you, Mioray?” Kevin’s voice crackled through the earbud.

Mioray caught a glimpse of Kevin pulling Matt into one of the nearby cars and slamming the door shut. The four operatives pursuing them were closing in, rifles raised and ready.

“Always ask yourself if it’s worth using it,” Kevin continued.

The operatives opened fire, riddling Kevin’s body with bullets.

“It’s a gamble,” Kevin coughed, blood spilling from his lips as he loosened his green tie with trembling fingers. “And I’m betting on you, Mioray. Heads up.”

As the tie slipped from his neck, and before he could fall unconscious, Kevin dug deep into his own throat with his fingernails. Blood erupted from the self-inflicted wounds in violent jets, but not as ordinary spray. Each stream twisted midair, transforming into strange, ribbon-like tendrils. They moved like silk come alive. Flat, curly, serpent-like, with tapered pointed tips.

Kevin’s limp body dangled like a discarded puppet, suspended in the air by the nightmarish tentacles now sprouting from his neck. Dozens of them burst outward in all directions, snaking and snapping like vipers. The operatives tried to shoot them down, but their bullets either missed or proved useless. The blood ribbons darted with precision, coiling around the operatives’ necks, and crack – each spine snapped like dry twigs. Hazmat suits didn’t protect them. Nothing could. One by one, the operatives dropped, lifeless husks on the cold asphalt.

But it didn’t stop there.

The ribbons spread further, reaching toward Impact Corpse, the remaining operatives, even the man still stuck in Matt’s slime, and Mioray himself. In mere seconds, every neck was going to be ensnared and getting crushed. Even Impact Corpse’s. Though Mioray knew that wouldn’t stop the towering man for long as he would regenerate in no time.

The ribbon around Mioray’s throat tightened, cold and suffocating. Well, at least Kevin had the decency to pull Matt into cover before setting off his suicide attack. How thoughtful of him. It would've been nice if he’d thought of Mioray too.

Then again, maybe he had.

Heads up.

Kevin said it with intention. With a sharp inhale and surge of will, Mioray fired his head off like a cannonball. Black threads trailed behind it like tethered cords, stretching taut as his head soared upward, still connected to the body.