Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
One could see a lone, blood-soaked figure being hurled across the battlefield like a rag doll, smashing into shattered metal and torn earth before rolling to a stop.
For a moment, it looked as though he wouldn't rise this time—his limbs twitched, his breathing was ragged, and half his vision had already blurred red.
But slowly, stubbornly, he pushed himself up again.
His body swayed, broken in more places than whole, yet defiance flickered in his eyes like the last ember of a dying flame.
Every inch of him was battered. Cuts, burns, and deep gouges covered his arms and torso.
Blood dripped steadily from his chin, tracing lines down his neck.
His legs shook so violently it was a miracle they could still carry him.
And yet, with a grunt of effort, Riley charged back into the never-ending wave of machines.
The battle had raged on for hours—hours in which any normal man would have collapsed long ago.
