But would Keres let Grayson close the distance? Of course not.

Keres grabbed a whole, three-hundred-pound crate and hurled it with a guttural grunt of exertion.

Grayson didn’t turn aside. He met the massive box head-on.

Slash-slash-slash!

With three lightning-fast strikes from his dual blades, the crate was rendered into six neat pieces of splintered wood and flying metal that rained down around him.

Through the debris, Grayson’s sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something falling from the destroyed crate.

A plasma gun.

It was a compact model, but he knew the specs. It was designed to be equipped with high-density rounds that could bore a hole through a high-ranking Zerg’s armored core in one shot.

With a plasma cartridge already in his belt and a gun to load it was falling right in front of him. He just had to get it as fast as possible.

However, it was quite a bit too far from his arm’s reach.

Grayson didn’t stop as he decided.

He quickly tucked his left-hand plasma blade back into its sheath and used his long legs to "pop" the falling plasma gun into the air.

Grayson caught it as it bounced at eye level, the grip fitting into his hand perfectly.

Snap!

He flipped the safety off with his thumb, holding the weapon loose along his thigh. He didn’t let this maneuver hinder him from keeping on moving.

"Just in time," Grayson murmured.

With quick, practiced movements, he pulled the plasma cartridge from his belt with his left hand.

Clack-shhh-thump!

He slammed the core into the gun’s intake with one hand. The weapon hummed to life—mmmmmm—that signaled it was ready to fire.

Grayson raised the gun, the blue light of the sights reflecting in his silver eyes. He kept walking, closing the distance for an effective, surefire shot.

Keres backed away, his claws scraping the floor—skritch-skritch—as he realized that all the crates around him were gone and Grayson somehow managed to get a gun in hand.

"Let’s see how far you can go now," Grayson said, his finger tightening on the trigger.

PHEW—!

The first shot screamed through the air, a bolt of pure, destructive light.

Grayson busily attacked Keres with alternating weapons. He used the plasma blade to parry Keres’s frantic attacks.

Meanwhile, his plasma gun only fired when the sights aligned with a surefire opening. The weapon barking a sharp, ionized thwip-crack against the Zerg’s chitinous plates.

Keres lunged and skidded—skritch-skritch—moving just enough to keep his vital core away from Grayson’s lethal attacks.

The monster’s antennae were flat against his head, twitching in a frantic rhythmic pattern that signaled a change in strategy.

Hidden behind a stack of ration crates, Chronos slumped against the cold metal, looking sickly pale. Every breath he took felt like inhaling liquid lead.

The room was saturated with the cloying, metallic scent of human and Zerg blood. His stomach turned with every breath.

Huff... huff...

His breathing was shallow, his lips pressed tight to avoid making a single sound that might draw Keres’s attention to their corner.

Chronos clutched his belly instinctively, feeling the bile rise in his throat. But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing to get out of his system.

Beside him, Helena was in a state of living death. Her hair was glued to her temples with a cold, greasy sweat. Her lips had turned a terrifying shade of bruised purple as her blood pressure dropped by the second.

Helena kept flushing the Zerg blood from her veins as much as possible. However, if she continued doing this, she would literally be drained not just of the Zerg blood but also her own blood.

Drip. Drip. Splat.

The sound of her blood hitting the concrete was the loudest thing nearby for both of them.

In a delirious haze, Helena’s eyes drifted to the plasma blade clutched in Chronos’s trembling hand. She reached out with her remaining right hand, her fingers cold and stiff.

"The blade," Helena said, rasping, the words barely a ghost of a sound. "Zero... pass it over."

Chronos blinked, his eyes unfocused as he looked at her. "What... what are you doing?"

"I have to seal it," Helena whispered, her voice cracking with the effort to remain conscious. "Burn the flesh. Cauterize it completely."

Chronos’s eyes widened, the pupils turned pinpricks in horror. "Are you crazy? Helena, that’s... the shock will kill you."

"If I don’t," she said, her breathing ragged and wet, "I’m dead in a few minutes anyway. Look at the floor."

"Just... just let me move you," Chronos pleaded, his voice shaking as he tried to muster the strength to stand. "Surely, there should be at least one medical pod in this room. I can probably carry you there."

Helena gripped his hand with a sudden, desperate strength. Her nails dug into his skin. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"You know how loud those pods are. One beep and that monster is on us before the lid closes. And I won’t heal... not yet. Not while I can still feel his filth in my marrow. So, give it to me."

Chronos clutched his own stomach again, and a wave of nausea and stress nearly caused him to black out.

He forced his hand away from his belly and onto his thigh. But his fingers wouldn’t stop their frantic, uncontrollable trembling.

Clack-clack-clack was heard as the hilt of the blade thread the floor.

"It’s going to hurt," he whispered. "It’s going to hurt so bad."

Helena’s lips pulled back into a smirk that was devoid of any human emotion.

"Then help me... keep my mouth shut."

The moment the hilt touched her palm, Helena didn’t hesitate. She knew if she waited, she would lose her nerve.

Helena brought the edge of the blade toward the jagged stump of her shoulder.

Sssssssssssssssssssss.

The sickening sizzle of moisture instantly spread the heavy smell of burning flesh.

Chronos felt his world tilt on its head. But he still managed to lunge forward, throwing both of his hands over Helena’s mouth to stifle the scream that was tearing its way up her throat.

"Mmmph! Mmm—!"