The roar tore through the sophisticated sound system of the Cantacuzino jet, a wave of pure, unfiltered malevolence that made the crystal glasses on the bar tremble. Mihai Cantacuzino, who had faced down armed oligarchs and stared into the abyss of his own damnation without flinching, felt an involuntary shiver trace its way down his spine. His crimson eyes, fixed on the holographic livestream, narrowed. Goosebumps prickled his skin.
That was not the shriek of a Lesser Demon. That was the bellow of something far older, far more powerful. The boy, Charlie, was not just facing a stray minion. He was facing a true engine of destruction.
"Faster," he snar amarelo to the pilot over the intercom, his voice a low, urgent command. The jet, already pushing the limits of its engines, surged forward, a silver needle aimed at the heart of the Amazon. It wasn't fast enough.
He re-established his secure connection with Elliot's AI. "Varia," he said, his voice tight. "I am transferring access to one of my private, offshore accounts. It has unlimited funds. I need you to procure a fleet of high-speed, long-range drones. Commercial, military—I don't care. The best you can find. I need you to hack them, assume control, and get them to Charlie Finch's position. Now."
"Procurement initiated," Varia's voice replied, calm and efficient. "Multiple assets acquired from private military contractors and tech corporations. Rerouting them now. Can you provide a secondary objective?"
"Can you weaponize them?" Mihai asked, his mind racing. "Explosives?"
"Negative," Varia stated. "The procured models lack explosive payloads. However, I can overload their battery systems on command, creating a significant electrical discharge upon impact with a target. The drone would be sacrificed in the process."
"Do it," Mihai ordered. "Help him. Create a distraction, buy him time, whatever it takes. How long until your assets are on station?"
"Calculating flight paths and atmospheric conditions," Varia hummed. "The first wave of five drones will reach the target coordinates in approximately forty-seven minutes."
Forty-seven minutes. An eternity. Mihai leaned back in his leather seat, his handsome face a mask of grim frustration. All his power, all his wealth, and for now, all he could do was watch.
The world had devolved into a nightmare of splintering wood and earth-shattering impacts. The Gore-Kragg Behemoth stood before them, a ten-foot-tall abomination of volcanic rock and raw hatred. Its horned skull-face was a mockery of life, its boulder-sized fists capable of turning the jungle to pulp.
As the monstrous creature took its first lumbering step towards them, the System's voice chimed in Charlie's mind, a cold, stark declaration in the face of annihilation.
New Mission: The Unmovable Mountain
Objective: Survive.
Survive the assault of the Gore-Kragg Behemoth
Reward: ???
Charlie's mind reeled. Survive? Not kill? Not purge? What the hell, System? Are you saying I can't beat this thing? That I'm that weak? The implication was a slap in the face, a dismissal of every ounce of power he had clawed and bled for. A cold, defiant fury surged through him, eclipsing the tactical part of his brain.
He didn't think. He acted. He threw his head back and unleashed his Primal Roar. The sonic blast of dominance slammed into the Gore-Kragg. The behemoth staggered, shaking its massive head, its advance momentarily halted by the sheer, unexpected force of the sound. It was stunned.
In that instant, Charlie moved. He coiled his powerful legs and leaped, his body an eighty-foot missile of righteous fury. He sailed through the air and drove his fist, powered by his 4-Star Boxing and the full force of his momentum, directly into the creature's left eye.
The impact was like punching a side of granite-encased beef. The eye ruptured with a wet, sickening squelch, spraying a hot, black ichor across Charlie's arm. The Gore-Kragg let out a scream of pure, unadulterated agony, a high-pitched, piercing sound that was a thousand times worse than its roar.
In the lean-to, Bobby, who had been frozen in terror, trembled so violently his teeth chattered.
The behemoth, enraged and half-blinded, swiped at Charlie with a fist that could shatter stone. Charlie twisted in mid-air, his Agility Spike and Battle Instinct allowing him to avoid the blow by a hair's breadth. He landed on the creature's massive, rocky shoulder. The heat coming off its skin was intense, and where his forearm brushed against it, his skin sizzled and burned. "Fuck!" he hissed, the pain sharp and real. Its blood burns… its skin burns…
He leaped away, landing lightly on the jungle floor, his mind racing. He couldn't go toe-to-toe with this thing. It was too big, too strong, and its very body was a weapon.
Bobby watched, his mind a chaotic mess of terror and awe. He saw Charlie, his friend, his brother, fighting a literal monster from hell. He saw the burn on Charlie's arm, the grimace of pain on his face. And something inside him snapped. The fear was still there, a screaming child in the back of his mind, but something else rose to meet it: a fierce, protective loyalty. He slapped himself hard across the face, the sting a welcome shock that cleared his head. I have to help. I can't just hide like a coward.
He fumbled in his pack, his hand closing around the small, sharp survival knife he'd been given. His heart hammered, his breath coming in ragged gasps, but he stood up. He saw the behemoth, now completely blind on its left side, turning its head, trying to locate Charlie with its one good eye. It was an impossible shot. A Hail Mary. But he had to try.
"Hey, ugly!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
The monster turned its massive head toward the sound. Bobby threw the knife with every ounce of his potion-enhanced strength. The small blade tumbled through the air, a pathetic piece of steel against a mountain of hate.
And it hit.
The knife, by some one-in-a-million miracle, embedded itself directly in the Gore-Kragg's remaining good eye. The monster shrieked again, a sound of pure agony and frustration, and began to flail wildly, completely blind now, smashing trees and pulverizing the ground in a mad, uncontrolled rampage.
"YES!" Bobby screamed, a sob of triumphant terror escaping his lips.
Charlie saw his chance. He sprinted to Bobby, grabbing the heavy machete from his friend's slackened grip. "Hide!" he commanded, his voice a thunderclap of authority. "NOW!"
Bobby didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled into the undergrowth, disappearing from sight.
Charlie leaped onto the back of the rampaging behemoth. It was like riding an earthquake. He raised the machete high and brought it down with all his might on the back of the creature's thick, rocky neck.
The blade, a fine piece of tempered steel, struck the monster's hide and shattered, the top half whistling past Charlie's head with lethal velocity. He ducked, the shard of metal missing him by an inch. Damn it! he thought, his mind flashing to the Weapon Mastery perk he had passed up. If I'd taken that, I would have known the right angle, the weak spot…
He jumped clear as the behemoth smashed its back against a colossal kapok tree, trying to crush him. He was weaponless. He was outmatched. And he was running out of time.
He activated his Stealth Steps, his footfalls becoming utterly silent, his presence muted. He became a ghost, weaving between the monster's wild, destructive swings. He landed a flurry of punches and kicks, but they were like pebbles against a mountain. His Unbreakable Body could withstand the glancing blows, but he was doing no real damage.
Bobby, watching from the relative safety of a thicket, was speechless. He was watching a warrior fight a titan. How… how can he move like that?
Charlie knew he had only one option left. A desperate, insane gamble. He had to use the Kinetic Redirection. He had to absorb the full, unmitigated power of the behemoth's strike and turn it back on the beast. If it worked, he might be able to crack its thick hide. If it failed, his Unbreakable Body would be tested to its absolute limit, and he might not walk away.
He disengaged his stealth and let out another Primal Roar. The blind behemoth, sensing him by the sound, turned and charged, its massive fist raised like a wrecking ball.
Charlie tensed his entire body, every muscle fiber screaming in anticipation. He didn't brace for the impact in a defensive posture. That would just get him killed. He had to meet force with force.
He charged forward, straight at the descending fist, leading with his left shoulder to present a smaller, more reinforced target. Time seemed to slow, the air growing thick and heavy. He could see the cracks in the monster's rocky knuckles, could feel the displaced air rushing past his face.
Just before the moment of impact, the world went silent.