Kevin and Mallow had stacked some one-shot gear. The second Mallow saw T-Bone split, he let out a pissed-off howl and cut loose with his M16, spraying lead like a mad bastard. Kevin hauled ass to Melk, slamming a Hyper Serum into his damn chest.

  Kevin didn’t know if this rare juice would fix an NPC like Melk—hell, who knew?—but with bodies dropping like flies, they couldn’t lose the big dog.

  Melk’s eyes cracked open, wounds knitting up fast. That high-tech Omnispace shit actually worked on NPCs in this fucked-up world.

  Melk clocked T-Bone’s head, eyes still burning holes at Walker King. The asshole he used to hate was gone—torn to shit by this meat-chomping freak. Melk’s head was a mess, but one thing was damn clear: that bastard had to die.

  Melk snarled at Guilan and the crew, “Keep blasting, you sons of bitches!” Then he slipped behind a fat steel pole like a damn ghost, ducking outta Walker King’s sight.

  As Walker King lumbered by, Melk pounced, slamming his blade into its skull and twisting it like a damn butcher. Brain guts shredded inside.

  Walker King howled like hell and swiped its fat hand at Melk. It reared up for a Flesh Tear, but Melk roared back—his blade lit up blue as fuck. The steel punched through Walker King’s right hand—boom!—blew it to shit like a grenade. The crew yelled, “Holy crap!”

  Melk hit the deck and rammed his glowing blade deep into Walker King’s right calf.

  The leg popped off like a damn firecracker—flesh and blood sprayed everywhere, bone shining white through the mess.

  Kevin’s jaw dropped. That insane hit had to be Melk’s ace—ripped Walker King apart like nothing.

  But that move fucked Melk dry. He landed pale as a ghost, crashing hard, too wiped to even stand.

  Kevin knew he had to move fast. Walker King’s rage was glued to Melk, and in that wiped-out shape, he’d be toast alone. Kevin hauled ass, closing in to 10 feet from the bastard, and chugged a Stone Skin potion.

  A hot-ass burn tore through his gut.

  Ugh, tastes like a damn Spicy McChicken. What, Stone Skin turns you into a burger full of preservatives that won’t rot? Kevin thought, wincing hard.

  Then his skin lit up with pain—sharp as hell, nearly made him bawl. Lucky it faded quick. His flesh cracked and toughened up. For a second, Kevin freaked—thought he’d grabbed the wrong shit and was about to turn into a statue, fucked way to go out in front of this freak. But Omnispace pinged in, cool as ice: Stone Skin potion worked, physical defense up 30%.

  Kevin felt like he was rocking stone armor—slow as hell but hard as nails. Teeth clenched, he charged Walker King head-on.

  The bastard squared up for a Fury Charge, eyes burning holes into the asshole who dared cut it.

  Kevin launched into the air, landing square on Walker King’s side. His glowing dagger ripped through like a damn thunderbolt, digging deep into the beast’s fucked-up flesh. This time, he zeroed in on the tendon—pure grit driving every slash to cripple this hulking freak.

  Stone Skin pumping through him, Kevin said fuck it and danced around the eight-foot monster, carving up its right leg like a mad dog.

  Mallow and the crew weren’t sitting on their asses. They let loose a storm of lead, hammering Walker King’s fat head with no mercy.

  Hitting the legs was smart as hell, but it risked clipping Kevin in the fray. Unless you were a dead-eye like Guilan, the rest were better off blasting the skull—keep that bastard distracted so Kevin could rip its legs to shit.

  Walker King was pissed as hell, swatting at the buzzing little shits like flies. It stomped out with its left foot, but Kevin—quick as a damn cat—dodged clean. He jumped on the chance, ramming his blade deep into Walker King’s right leg, the one propping up its hulking ass.

  The big bastard lost its grip and crashed hard, shaking the ground like a damn quake.

  Mallow and the last gunners let out a wild yell—fuck yeah, they’d dropped this freak against all odds!

  “Weapons up! Let’s end this bastard now!” Mallow roared, voice thick with hate. T-Bone’s big heart had hit soft-ass Mallow deep, and that brutal end lit a fire he couldn’t choke down.

  But Walker King, running on pure damn grit, clawed to haul its ass back up.

  Kevin’s eyes lit up with steel as he cut loose his big move, Throat Slash, while Walker King was still wobbling. That nasty shit didn’t fuck around—flunk the Toughness check, you’re dead on the spot; pass, and it still rips quadruple damage plus 30 HP bleed.

  No surprise, Walker King’s tank ass breezed the check—built like a damn brick wall. But it still hurt like hell—blood sprayed from its throat, and it groaned deep and ugly. Its fat hand slapped its neck, trying to plug the mess, but that hulking frame rocked and dropped again with a loud-ass thud.

  Kevin jumped on its neck with another Throat Slash—10 energy a pop, but he could chain that shit 9 times if he had to.

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  Walker King couldn’t duck this one—ate the full hit. But its cloudy eyes flared wild, and it slammed a massive fist downward with bone-crushing force.

  Kevin’s skull took the whole damn hit. A crash like a wrecking ball through steel rang in his ears. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he hit the deck, body screaming in pain.

  The battle log popped up—another fat-ass hit. No crit, thank fuck, but it still smashed him to low HP, even with his defense buffed to 150%.

  Kevin hauled his ass up, blood pouring from his nose, dripping red on the floor. His bloodshot eyes burned hot as he charged, cutting loose another Throat Slash. No damn way he’d drop before unloading all 9 of those bastards!

  Walker King sprawled there, too big to duck shit. Fury and despair flashed in its cloudy eyes as its throat ripped open again. It roared, swinging its fat hand at Kevin, but Kevin danced around the eight-foot meatball and hit back with Throat Slash—bam, one more.

  Mallow ran to Melk, jammed an Energy Toast into his mouth. It wasn’t shit-hot, but it jolted the knocked-out bastard back awake. Melk clocked Kevin pounding Walker King like a punching bag, a slick smirk creeping up, eyes gleaming hard.

  He licked his dagger, staring down the roaring freak like death himself. (Mallow: Ugh, that’s nasty as hell! You’ll catch some shit from Walker King’s blood!)

  Kevin and Melk tore into the helpless Walker King—no mercy. Kevin kept slamming Throat Slash, while Melk hit with Exploding Stab, loving every damn second of the carnage.

  Walker King, fucked up bad, still roared like a beast. Then—boom—it rolled hard across the floor, ducking both their hits.

  Kevin’s chest thumped with dread. This meatball still got some shit up its sleeve? Too many had already bled out in this damn mess.

  Luck’s a bitch, and trouble rolls in packs.

  The bastard somehow flipped sideways and smashed a fat hole in a glass tank. Weird juice sprayed everywhere, showing off a corpse—kinda human, but not even close. Bat wings, black crispy skin, like it got torched. With a creepy-ass screech, Walker King started chowing down on it!

  Kevin froze, eyes wide. Seriously? What the hell does this freak eat? Batman’s ass is on the menu now?

  To their horror, Walker King’s cuts started knitting up slow.

  Kevin and Mallow locked eyes, pissed as hell.

  “No fucking way!” Mallow barked, voice raw with rage. “This is cheating! It’s healing right in our damn faces!”

  But if Mallow could hear Walker King’s head, it’d be snarling: “Cheating? You little shits cheated first with your fancy potions! Be glad I ain’t reset this whole damn fight yet. Back in my day, one sip of healing juice, and I’d smash the table, kick the game over, and laugh while you cried like bitches. Hahaha!”

  “We can’t let this freak heal up!” Kevin yelled. “Open fire!”

  The crew cut loose, blasting the “Batman” corpse as Walker King chowed down. The beast roared, chucking the scraps aside. Its fucked-up right leg was half-fixed already, and with a fresh burst of hate, it charged—Fury Charge, full tilt!

  All its agro locked on Kevin, the asshole who dared crash its “medicine break.” Kevin dodged by a hair.

  This fat bastard only snagged two bites of that “Batman” meat, and it didn’t just patch him up—it jacked his smarts too!

  Fury Charge faded, and Walker King moved fast—damn near slick for an eight-foot meatball. It even jumped up and slammed its giant ass down at Kevin. New skill? Mutation from the corpse? Whatever the hell it was, this trick was fresh.

  If this 2,000-pound bastard landed on Kevin, even if he didn’t croak, he’d be stuck under its fat ass, begging for mercy. Only way out’d be after it shits you out.

  But Kevin got snagged by the freak’s wild jump. No fucking way—this ass-slam froze him dead in its grip. His heart pounded like a jackhammer, jaw clamped so hard his teeth damn near cracked, but his legs wouldn’t budge!

  “It’s over…” Kevin croaked, voice shot with dread. “Mom, Dad—”

  Then a hard shove knocked him sideways. A pissed-off yell—thick with Spanish fire—ripped through. “Get your ass outta there—”

  Guilan!

  The dead-eye bastard dove in at the last second, shoving Kevin clear as Walker King came down like a damn bomb. The crash rocked even that hulking freak back, its ugly laugh booming loud. But under that sick cackle, shit got real—Guilan’s guts and bones mashed into a bloody pile, all that was left of the guy!

  “SON OF A BITCH!” Kevin choked out, tears burning his eyes. One thought smashed through his head: KILL this bastard or DIE—no other damn way!

  Omnispace hit hard right then—survival, raw as fuck. One second, a guy’s alive—laughing, hurting, dreaming big. Next, gone, just cold-ass silence. No coming back.

  This ain’t no damn MMO with respawns and full HP. Here, dead is dead—meat slab or monster chow.

  T-Bone, Guilan, half the crew—wiped out by this eight-foot meatball’s rampage.

  This fucker’s gotta die!

  Kevin charged, blind with rage, and jammed his combat knife deep into Walker King’s right leg. Fury drove it through flesh and bone ‘til it stuck.

  Walker King howled, letting out a roar that’d bust eardrums, and wrapped a giant hand around Kevin, squeezing with bone-crushing grip.

  “Don’t you touch my brother!” Mallow screamed, rushing in with a shovel cocked high. He smashed it into Walker King’s arm with a loud-ass thud.

  Kevin yanked free, Mallow’s fear flipping to pure hate, swinging that shovel like a damn maniac, every hit for the dead.

  Melk stormed in, his explosive blade ripping into the freak’s fucked-up leg. The last gunners rallied, unloading a storm of lead at Walker King’s head, desperate to drop this bastard. But this eight-foot meatball was too damn tough.

  ***

  Three brutal minutes later, Kevin was beat to shit, barely alive. Mallow hung on by a thread. Melk got it worst—flung into the iron gate like a ragdoll, face a bloody wreck, out cold, maybe done for.

  The last gunners didn’t stand a chance against Walker King’s freak strength. Some got smashed to pulp, others blown apart in one hit, a few swallowed whole. None made it.

  Ten crazy bastards took on this nightmare-level hidden main mission. Seven down, three hanging by a damn thread.

  Their crew—once loud and kickin’—got smashed to fuckin’ nothing in minutes.