The sound of a roaring engine would cut through the air as Slayer accelerated away from the encroaching mutant giants. Their snakelike bodies caused miniature earthquakes all across the barren wasteland, sending lower-class mutants into hiding. Behind him, the creatures howled like wolves, transcending any manmade vehicle in terms of speed, catching up relatively quickly.
Their massive forms weaved through the desolate landscape like a freight train, despite their enormous size. With their claws scraping against the ground, a deadly venom coated the surface below their weight, corroding the debris beneath them. Ishmael turned around, watching as they advanced like a pack of starving hyenas.
"Their poison is deadly." He exclaimed in a monotone voice. "Being touched by it would cause a problem." Such poison from these mutants were known to override someone's gene pool and alter their biology, turning them into their species. Avoiding it by all means was necessary.
As the wind whipped past Slayer as he maneuvered through the ruined city—Apollyon moved with pristine mobility, accelerating through the maze of broken streets. Weaving between crumbling skyscrapers and shattered storefronts, dodging debris and abandoned cars, he focused simultaneously on the mutants and his destination.
"They're closing in, Master Ishmael." Apollyon's robotic voice was slathered with anxiety as she kept moving forward in an attempt to outrun these creatures, but they were far faster than she imagined.
"I'm well aware." Ishmael removed his palms from the handlebars of the motorcycle, standing up on the saddle. "Apollyon, activate autopilot." The motorbike roared with ferocity in such a way that Apollyon appeared even faster than before as the wind whipped Slayer's hair back.
"Understood, master." The engine's powerful roar mixed in with the thunderous approach of the mutants behind them while Ishmael reached for his utility belt. He balanced himself precariously on the bike—sharpening his focus as the landscape blurred past him at hypersonic velocity.
Taking out three miniature daggers, they suddenly spread open like folding fans, bearing a strong resemblance to that of pinwheels. It was tipped with sharpened blades and a tracking device in the center as Ishmael prepared his throw.
The lead mutant - a hulking beast with glowing red eyes - closed in rapidly. Slayer could feel its hot, disgusting breath reaching him from afar as it stuck out its massive clawed hand while slithering on its belly. With lightning-fast reflexes, the Demon Hunter chucked his Wind Cutters at the head mutant, slicing clean through its palm. It roared in agony as its severed hand fell to the ground and was crushed beneath its own weight from its constant acceleration.
Moving like boomerangs, the Wind Cutters spun back around and headed for the lead mutant once more—this time much faster. Each moving projectile was sharp enough to slice through atoms and tear apart the mutants until nothing was left.
"Will that be enough to kill them?" Apollyon swerved through the city streets before turning a hard right, though Ishmael still kept his balance, looking at the creatures with a stern expression. "Omega Level Mutants are known to regenerate, master! They can return from the complete destruction of their body as long as their atoms exist."
Quiet as a church mouse, Slayer kept his attention focused on the Wind Cutters.
"While that may be true, I have invented something that can even kill the unkillable." The mutants' enraged growls echoed across the barren city as Apollyon executed complex maneuvers—Slayer somehow managing to stay upright despite their persistent pursuit. "Hmm..."
The Wind Cutters finally reach their target, tracking the lead mutant's every move, via heat detection. Even if he missed, Ishmael was experienced enough to plan ahead. With his skill and accuracy—his attacks retained the quality of always hitting his opponent—no matter how illogical or absurd it may be. Calling him a Master Marksman was an understatement.
Watching with calculating eyes, the Wind Cutters suddenly stop an inch away from the lead mutant's body as a toxic gas shot out of its pores, pushing them all away and malfunctioning its tracking device.
Ishmael remained stoic, as if he predicted this outcome—thus—pulling out a dagger, he chucked it through the air, colliding it with one of the projectiles and causing it to bounce to the next, and then the next. The dagger was thrown with such precision that it bounced to each Wind Cutter, hitting them with enough force to cause their system to operate again from its previous breakdown.
Call it his sixth sense. Ishmael had predicted the malfunctioning of his devices and already planned ahead for this very moment.
With his projectiles operating again, they dove into their target, aiming for the chief mutant once more. The toxic gas had died out long ago, giving him the opening he needed.
"Checkmate..."
With no mercy, the Wind Cutters sliced through the mutant's body and began their frenzy. Each projectile spun with such precision as it cut through its atomic structure, denying it of regeneration.
With the chief mutant halting in its tracks, the rest of the horde continued chasing—angered by the death of their leader.
"They seem to be getting faster." Proclaimed Ishmael, dull. "It's best if you speed up, Apollyon."
The sentient Ai had an unlimited supply of energy as long as Ishmael was around; all he had to do was produce negative emotions which acted as fuel for the magical motorcycle.
"I'm going as fast as I can! If you want me to move any faster then I advise you to produce the right amount of hostility to give me a boost!"
"Hostility, huh?" Ishmael lowered his already-dull eyes before a change of demeanor occurred. "Alright then." Furrowing his brows, the Demon Hunter exerted an intense bloodlust in front of him. The mutants had no time to react as they were struck with an overwhelming emotion that seemed to paralyze them, but only for a short while.
Despite these creatures lacking the ability to experience fear from their complex brain, it was their soul that fell victim to his bloodlust.
The body was only the temple and it mattered not to the Son of Lucifer.
"Ah, that's it! We have just enough, master." Absorbing his bloodlust and turning it into fuel, Apollyon's speed quickly closed their gap, far surpassing Mach 20.
Driving at breakneck speed, both Ishmael and Apollyon could feel the ground shake beneath their weight. Something was coming, and it wasn't friendly.
The terrain erupted all around them again as more giant mutants emerged from beneath the earth—these ones different from the others. Their skin was darker, almost metallic, and they moved with a sinister sprint , heading for the horde that gave them chase.
The original mutants seemed momentarily distracted by the new arrivals, giving Ishmael and Apollyon a brief chance to catch their breaths, but to their surprise, the new creatures started attacking the others.
The situation quickly devolved into chaos as Apollyon came to a hard stop while Ishmael remained standing, defying physics.
"They're combating one another?" Said Apollyon, bewildered by the tone of her voice. "This area must belong to these other mutants, which explains why they attacked. It's a turf war."
Ishmael nodded his head.
"The mutants we were being chased by are called Serpentese, they're known for their dangerous poison and agility, it's wise to avoid them unless you want to experience a slow agonizing death." These mutants were known to release a toxic gas that has paralysis properties that slowly breaks apart one's cellular structure; they're dangerous without question—especially to the frail human body.
"What of those other ones?" Asked Apollyon, still in her motorbike form.
"The ones who attacked the Serpentese are the Dragords—these mutants are well-known for their endurance and adaptation. We're lucky they weren't feeling hungry." Even if the Serpentese managed to poison them, they'd only evolve and overcome; acquiring some new attribute that allows them to resist said poison. By far, these were the worst Omega Level Mutants one could encounter.
Ishmael turned back around, sitting on the motorcycle with an impassive glare. "It would be a hassle trying to fight them, so let's just get a move on."
"Understood..."
Finally, after what feels like hours of intense pursuit, Ishmael and Apollyon drive off and lost the mutants in the dense urban sprawl. The last glimpse they get of them is their angry silhouettes disappearing behind skyscrapers in a fight to the death.
Cruising through the city with a roaring engine, they searched far and wide for any safe spots to set up camp. Shadows stretched long across the cracked pavement with abandoned buildings, broken down cars, and the acrid odors of outside.
Eventually, they spot an old parking garage that seems relatively secure. Ishmael's sixth sense bestowed him with enough information to know of its possible dangers, and luckily, there were none.
Maneuvering inside, Slayer glanced around him to see the ruined interior. It wasn't as bad as outside, but just enough to set up shelter. With Apollyon parked, Slayer disembarked the saddle and started setting up basic defenses using scrap materials from the garage. Metal plates and barricades created a makeshift barrier between him and any potential threats; blocking off the entrance and other possible entries.
As the night air grew cold, Slayer finished securing the area and Apollyon took humanoid form again.
"Master, shall we rest? It would be wise for me to conserve resources when I'm not actively engaged in activities."
Ishmael glanced at the petite Ai, nodding his head.
"Go ahead. I don't want any strain on your processing power."
Apollyon nods cheerfully as Ishmael gathers scrap wood, putting it in a pile. Lifting his hand, the Demon Hunter manifested hellfire, igniting the pieces of firewood.
Like all demons, they had the intrinsic ability to summon hellfire; hot enough to burn not only the body, but the soul and spirit as well.
Sitting in front of the campfire, Apollyon slowly lies down as she entered Rest Mode, shutting down her system.
Meanwhile, Ishmael stared into the flames, hearing the distant sound of mutant roars remind him that they were still in dangerous territory, but it couldn't get any worse from here.