Collision

The crater still steamed. Rubble groaned beneath Klaus's feet as he stood motionless in the haze, the blue energy radiating off his body now pulsing like a second heartbeat. His expression was calm—too calm. But his eyes... flickered. Something inside him was pulling loose. Something old breaking. Something new taking its place.

"Flight mode: active."
"Enemy presence detected."
"Psycho-unit: engaged."
"Primary directive: eliminate resistance."

Klaus didn't respond. He simply smiled.

Not the warm, boyish smile Flora once knew.

This smile was crooked. Empty. Deranged.

The voice in his head whispered again, louder than before:
"They called you weak..."

And then he remembered it.
Loran. Towering over him. Dismissing him.
"I don't like your smile. You seem... weak."

Klaus's smile widened into something horrific. He began to chuckle, and that chuckle turned into laughter—sharp and wild, echoing through the ruins like glass breaking in slow motion.

Above, the Otar combat helicopter hovered, its wind gusts ripping through the smoke.

Inside, Loran stared through the open ramp as the figure below came into view.

At first, he didn't recognize him. The skin, metallic and laced with circuitry. The glowing blue veins. The cables emerging from his skull like mechanical tendrils. The eyes—unblinking, electric.

Then Loran's stomach turned.
"Klaus..." he whispered.

The recognition hit him like a hammer.

No machine could look like that unless it was rebuilt from something human.

"Land. Now."

The chopper set down on the edge of the crater. Psycho-robots emerged in formation, silent and ready. Loran stepped forward, shield in hand, but unmoving.

He didn't say a word. He just stared.

Klaus stared back, smiling.

"Look who it is," Klaus finally said. "Commander of the righteous. Wielder of the indestructible toy."

Loran didn't answer immediately. He took a slow step forward. "What... what happened to you?"

Klaus tilted his head. "I evolved."

"You're infected."

"Infected? No. I was chosen."

"You were just a man," Loran growled.

"Exactly. Was. You told me I was weak. That I didn't belong here. Maybe you were right."

He opened his arms wide, the cables on his back rising like tendrils ready to strike.

"But now, Loran... now I can tear down this city with a thought. And guess what? I'm just getting started."

"This isn't you, Klaus. Whatever's inside your head—"

"Is me now!" Klaus roared. "Don't act like you ever knew me. You looked at me and saw nothing. Weak. Soft. Worthless."

"I saw someone who didn't understand the weight of war."

"I am the war."

Electricity crackled between them. The psycho-robots behind Loran aimed, but he raised a hand.

"I'm not here to kill you," Loran said. "I want to know if there's anything left of the man you were."

Klaus blinked. The smile faded, for a moment.

Then he laughed again. "Too late, Commander."

With a flick of his wrist, the ground rumbled.

Klaus launched.

He blurred through the air.

A sonic boom cracked behind him. The psycho-robots exploded into metal shrapnel, torn apart by invisible waves. Heads twisted. Limbs ripped clean off. Screams short-circuited in sparks.

In under one second, Klaus wiped out the entire unit.

Loran spun around too late.

Klaus formed a glowing missile in his hand—magnetized, jagged, pulsing with death—and hurled it directly at him.

Loran barely lifted his shield.

The missile struck.
The crater shook.
Flames roared skyward.

Loran flew backward, slamming into a ruined wall. He groaned, smoke rising from his armor. His face was bloodied. His breath, thin.

The shield had saved him. But just barely.

"Still think I'm weak?" Klaus whispered, now walking toward him.

Loran rose slowly, watching him, but saying nothing.

Then Klaus disappeared—again.

In seconds, he was across the city. His laugh echoed like thunder as he unleashed chaos.

He murdered with precision and glee—each kill unique. A hundred lives ended in moments. Civilians. Soldiers. Anyone in his path.

Then, he was back.

Blood splattered across his body, cables twitching. He stood once more before Loran.

"One hundred. That was a warm-up."

Suddenly, his body jerked.

Sparks burst from his skull. He growled in pain as the voice returned:

"WARNING."
"PRIMARY TARGET: NOT ELIMINATED."
"FAILURE TO KILL LORAN = TERMINATION."

"SHUT UP!" he screamed, grabbing his head.

He looked up, rage and panic in his glowing eyes.

"No more warm-ups."

Loran braced.

Klaus attacked.

Lightning fists. Magnetic blades. Shockwaves. Loran blocked, countered, parried—but he was slower. Tired. Hurt.

Then, Klaus struck him square in the chest with a full-force burst of power.

Loran flew backward, shield flaring. His back hit the stone, and this time, he didn't get up right away.

He gasped, blinking one eye open. Blood filled his mouth.

Klaus stood, towering, victorious.

Loran reached his wrist. Opened the comm.

"Flora..." he rasped. "You there?"

Her voice crackled through: "I'm here."

"You need to come now."

And the line went dead.