Bark!
In an instant, everyone within a ten-meter radius of Peter was engulfed in a thick mist of blood.
Scattered prosthetic limbs and synthetic bodies littered the ground, confirming that the carnage was all too real.
"Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful! A single strike with such devastating effect! I knew I wasn't wrong about him!" Hall exclaimed ecstatically, grinning like a madman as he stood within the blood mist. He wasn't afraid at all—on the contrary, he was thrilled. The more power Peter revealed, the more value he held for Hall's research.
Peter's performance didn't just shock Hall—it seized the attention of every military technician present. Mann, recognizing the significance of the moment, made a decisive call.
"Dorio! Pilar! Rebecca! Sasha! Get moving—take the lead!" Mann barked.
He quickly scanned the area. The number of military tech personnel in this zone was lower than expected, and there were natural barriers ahead. If they could eliminate the soldiers here, they'd be able to reach that defensible zone and regroup with others resisting the military.
That way, Peter wouldn't need to worry about their safety.
As soon as Mann issued the command, the team's years of coordination became evident. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Da-da-da! Chug-chug-chug-chug!
The team's weapons roared to life in perfect sync, rattling the nerves of the military tech soldiers, who were still in shock from Peter's sudden eruption.
By the time the military troops snapped back to reality, Mann's team had already carved out a path, advancing aggressively and seizing nearby bunkers with lightning speed.
"F**k! Kill them all!" the commander of the military tech unit roared. "I don't care about Rebecca or the others—eliminate those mercs and then focus everything on Peter!"
He'd realized that Peter was the real threat. Rebecca and her crew were no longer worth the effort—it would be more effective to dispose of them quickly and concentrate their full strength on neutralizing Peter.
"You bastard," Peter muttered coldly, eyes narrowing as the commander, barely twenty meters away, gave his orders.
He had been standing right there—yet the man completely ignored him, as if Peter wasn't even present.
In the blink of an eye, Peter vanished from his spot.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared on the far side of the compound—right next to a wall where over a hundred military tech soldiers were stationed.
"Fire! Tranquilizer rounds—NOW!" the team leader in that area reacted swiftly, yelling to his soldiers who were already trembling under pressure.
Da-da-da!
Dozens of guns fired in perfect unison, the red gleam of infrared sights all converging on Peter.
But something wasn't right.
The bullets passed straight through him—no impact, no blood, nothing.
It was as if Peter existed in a different dimension—or was merely a holographic projection.
The soldiers didn't realize they had emptied their magazines until they heard the hollow clicks of dry fire.
All of them froze.
Their instincts screamed that something was terribly wrong.
They had aimed with precision. Peter hadn't even moved. So why didn't a single bullet hit him?
"What the hell are you aiming at?" Peter chuckled, stretching nonchalantly. "I stood still and you still couldn't land a hit?"
"F**k! All units in the East Sector—fire at will! Target Peter! Bring him down!" the military tech commander bellowed through the comms, nearly losing his mind with rage.
This time, over 500 soldiers from the Eastern District aimed their weapons at Peter and opened fire in synchronized waves.
Peter finally moved.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
In under five seconds, Peter had torn through the frontline like a hurricane.
He seized dozens of soldiers and slammed them against the walls with such force that dust and debris erupted into the air.
Observers could barely process what was happening—one moment, the soldiers were standing ready, the next, Peter had crushed them into the concrete.
He emerged slowly from the cloud of smoke, his face calm—yet menacing.
With a sudden leap, Peter grabbed a soldier by the calf and spun him through the air like a club.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Soldiers flew left and right, limbs breaking, weapons scattering.
"Ahhh!" screamed one soldier, sent flying across the field like a rag doll.
Peter continued swinging his human weapon like a man possessed.
On the sixth swing, there was a horrifying snap—the leg tore away from the rest of the body, and Peter tossed it aside in disgust.
"No fun," he muttered. "So... are you ready for the real show?"
Peter's eyes began to glow—fiery red light flaring in the dim chaos.
The soldiers were struck by a wave of primal fear.
They didn't know what was coming, but their instincts screamed danger.
They responded the only way they could—by firing blindly.
Zzzzz!
Two blazing red laser beams shot from Peter's eyes, sweeping across the battlefield.
Wherever Peter looked, destruction followed.
Every soldier in his line of sight was bisected instantly—flesh, armor, cybernetics—nothing could resist the burning heat.
Boom!
Puff!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Explosions rocked the compound as fuel tanks detonated, vehicles were sliced in half, and defensive structures collapsed.
Peter's lasers were like the sharpest blades in the world, cutting through anything they touched.
The East District became a slaughterhouse.
People screamed. Some ran. Others fell to their knees in stunned silence.
But no one resisted.
What could they possibly do? Their bullets were useless. Their tech ineffective. Their strategies meaningless.
They were powerless in the face of overwhelming force.
Peter continued his rampage, walking slowly and methodically toward the military tech commander and the mad scientist, Hall.
No one stood in his way. Anyone who tried was instantly carved up.
Drones hovered above, broadcasting the scene live to the military tech headquarters in Night City.
Inside the control room, Gail Gibbs watched in pale-faced silence.
On the screen, Peter advanced like a god of death, laser beams slicing through concrete and steel as easily as air.
Gail's knuckles turned white as he gripped the console.
They had underestimated him—badly.
Gail had believed that Peter's laser vision, powerful as it was, would be limited by energy consumption. Once he exhausted that reserve, Peter would be vulnerable—easy to subdue.
He was even willing to sacrifice half their army just to wear Peter down.
But Peter wasn't slowing down.
There were no signs of fatigue.
No indications of running out of power.
If anything, he was getting stronger—more ruthless.
Gail's plan had collapsed.
The base they had built with years of effort and billions in funding was about to be annihilated.
And it was all because of a misjudgment.
A single, fatal misjudgment.
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