The ancient traces of power had been elusive, scattered across the continents like whispers in the wind. But for the 2nd ranked Heptad, such whispers formed a pattern—a constellation of corruption leading to a single point of origin. By meticulously connecting the energy signatures of the corrupted trees, John Flames had uncovered the secret veins of power that all converged toward one overwhelming source.
Deep within the scorching desert, hidden beneath shifting sands that had concealed its presence for centuries, stood a shrine. And within that shrine sat Steel himself—not a pale imitation, but the original being of legend.
***
John Flames approached the shrine with measured steps, his weathered features betraying nothing of his thoughts. At 45 years old, he was the eldest among the current Heptad members, his experience evident in the calm calculation behind his eyes. The desert winds whipped around him, but he remained unperturbed, his focus absolute.
John had joined Alpha's military at sixteen, following in the footsteps of his father—a legendary sniper whose precision had become the stuff of military legend. At twenty, John had inherited his father's Transcendent-level ability, refining and expanding it over the decades until it became something truly formidable: the power to ensure any attack he could see would miss him, while any attack he launched would never fail to find its mark. He could also strengthen the projectiles he threw, making even the most innocuous object into a devastating weapon.
The twin laser pistols holstered at his sides and the advanced rifle slung across his back were extensions of himself, instruments through which his extraordinary ability manifested with deadly precision. Since claiming the rank of Heptad 2 at twenty-five, he had remained unchallenged in his position, his cold efficiency a stark contrast to the flamboyant styles of his younger colleagues.
***
The shrine's interior was cool and dimly lit, ancient symbols etched into walls that had stood for millennia. And there, seated before a massive tree that reached 200 meters in height and spanned 50 meters in width, was Steel.
The legendary figure wore nothing, needing no protection or adornment. His entire form was metallic, gleaming even in the muted light—a perfect fusion of flesh and metal that transcended conventional understanding of either. The aura emanating from him was palpable, a pressure that would have driven lesser beings to their knees.
John's first thought, unbidden but honest, was concise: "Wow, he is strong, but obviously not as strong as me."
"So this is where you have been hiding all this time, Grey," John said, his voice carrying the weight of decades spent in military discipline.
Steel's head turned slowly, his metallic features arranging themselves into an expression of disdain. "Grey, huh. What a disrespectful thing for a child like you to say." His voice was resonant, each word seeming to vibrate with ancient power. "Why are you here alone anyway? It's not like you alone can take me, Steel, down. I am literally a god."
A thin smile curved John's lips, not reaching his eyes. "True, you were a god in the past. The history books talk about it a lot." He took a measured step forward, his gaze never leaving Steel's metallic form. "But you are now just an old artifact that belongs in a museum. You do not compare to your old self, old man."
Rage flashed across Steel's features—a curious sight on a face made of metal. He rose to his full height, towering over John, and brought his hands together in a thunderous clap.
The force unleashed was cataclysmic. The shrine shattered outward, ancient stone reduced to dust in an instant. The shockwave tore across the desert, sending sand billowing into the sky in a massive cloud visible for kilometers.
Yet when the dust settled, John stood completely unmoved, not a hair out of place.
Steel's metallic features shifted into something resembling grudging respect. "Impressive. Not bad at all, actually." With a gesture, he conjured a massive greatsword from the air itself, the metal forming and solidifying in his grip. Without warning, he lunged forward with inhuman speed, the blade arcing toward John's neck with deadly precision.
The sword passed through—and John's head remained firmly attached to his shoulders. Steel had missed, despite the impossibility of such a failure at point-blank range.
In a fluid motion, John drew one of his pistols and fired a single shot. The energy bolt struck Steel directly in the chest, sending the legendary figure flying backward.
While still airborne, Steel conjured approximately forty greatswords, each one launching toward John at hypersonic speed, the air screaming as they passed. Yet somehow, impossibly, every single blade missed its target, passing harmlessly around John's unmoving form.
"My turn," John stated simply.
His pistol moved in a blur, firing a rapid succession of shots. Steel attempted to dodge, his movements nearly too fast for the eye to follow—yet every single bolt struck him with unerring accuracy, each impact leaving a molten crater in his metallic flesh.
"How? What is your ability?" Steel demanded, genuine confusion evident in his voice.
John's expression remained impassive. "Sorry, I can't tell you that. That was something done in the past, ancient one."
With unexpected speed, John closed the distance between them, his pistol targeting Steel's eyes with precision shots that found their mark despite Steel's attempts to evade. Following the barrage, John delivered a devastating kick to Steel's midsection, the impact launching the metal being across the desert landscape.
Not allowing his opponent a moment to recover, John leapt skyward with superhuman agility. As Steel attempted to rise, John unleashed another flurry of shots from above, each one penetrating Steel's metallic body, leaving perfect circular holes in his once-impervious form.
Steel gazed up at his attacker, his metallic features contorting into a mixture of rage and revelation. "I have finally figured out your fucking ability."
Moving with renewed purpose and blinding speed, Steel struck John in the abdomen with enough force to send him flying in turn. Landing with perfect balance, Steel raised his hands, summoning one hundred clones of himself, each standing forty meters tall, and directed them toward John with a single, authoritative gesture.
John responded with methodical precision. His pistols tracking each clone, he fired a series of headshots that destroyed them in rapid succession, their metallic skulls exploding into fragments that scattered across the desert floor.
Steel slammed his palms against the ground, channeling his power into the earth itself. Sharp metallic spikes erupted from the sand in a deadly wave, racing toward John with lethal intent. Yet somehow, despite their speed and number, John navigated between them with impossible precision, evading each potential impalement.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Steel raised his hands toward the sky, then brought them down in a commanding gesture. From above, a massive spherical object appeared—a perfect metallic orb descending with inexorable force.
John glanced upward, his expression betraying mild curiosity. "Huh, is that a bomb?"
The sphere struck with apocalyptic force, the explosion so powerful it sent a mushroom cloud of sand and debris billowing into the sky, transforming a section of the desert into scorched glass.
As the dust began to settle, John emerged unscathed, his clothing slightly singed but otherwise intact. Before he could fully regain his bearings, countless metal rods hurtled toward him from multiple directions. Again, despite their number and velocity, John dodged them all—but this momentary distraction allowed Steel to appear behind him, delivering a devastating punch to the back of John's skull.
The impact momentarily disoriented John, who spun to face his attacker. Before Steel could capitalize on this advantage, John vanished, reappearing at a considerable distance, his rifle now in hand. He took aim and fired a series of high-powered shots that tore through Steel's head and torso, fragmenting his metallic form with surgical precision.
Steel's body regenerated almost instantly, the metal flowing and reforming to restore his imposing figure. He charged again, throwing a flurry of blindingly fast punches—yet somehow, inexplicably, every single strike missed its target despite John barely appearing to move.
Finding an opening, John took careful aim and fired directly at Steel's head, the high-powered shot removing substantial portions of his metallic skull.
Steel, growing increasingly enraged, adjusted his approach. He calculated his timing perfectly and delivered a punch at such blinding speed that not even John's extraordinary ability could compensate. The blow connected squarely with John's face, launching him backward across the desert terrain.
Pressing his advantage, Steel conjured an array of floating spears, their tips gleaming with deadly intent. "You will die here," he declared, his voice resonating with ancient power.
The spears launched simultaneously, a lethal storm of metal converging on John's position. But before they could reach their target, a brilliant beam of energy intercepted them, resulting in a massive explosion that temporarily blinded both combatants.
As the light faded and the dust settled, six figures stood revealed across the battlefield—the remaining members of the Heptad, ranks 3, 5, 6 and 7, arrayed in formation behind their second-in-command.
Lisa Everheart, the elegant Blue Angel of rank 3, stepped forward with graceful authority. "Sorry we're late," she said, her refined voice carrying easily across the devastated landscape.
Trevor Tigris, the King of Beasts and rank 7, grinned with feral anticipation, his amber eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. "Now, the real fun begins."