The Apostles wore cold, brutal smiles as they drove the terrified townspeople toward the square at the center of the ruined town. Instead of killing them outright, they moved with a strange, deliberate purpose, as if their violence was part of some dark ritual. Less than a dozen of these abominations managed to corral more than five hundred civilians through sheer terror and cruelty.
Those who dared to resist were swiftly and mercilessly crushed. The creatures possessed inhuman strength; their blows shattered bone and steel alike. A single sweep of their weapons could dismember a man or rip through an armored door.
Mothers clutched their children, trembling, while fathers stood hollow-eyed and powerless. Above it all, the Apostles' mechanical laughter echoed, metallic, distorted, and devoid of anything human.
Each Apostle was an abomination of flesh and machine, their bodies twisted beyond recognition.
At the center stood their leader, a towering figure nearly three meters tall. Its body was both male and female. From its back sprouted eight metallic appendages like spider legs, each ending in a blade that gleamed with cruel precision. The ground seemed to tremble as it spoke, its voice a twisted fusion of tones, vibrating through bone and metal alike.
"Prepare the offering," it hissed.
The Apostles around it raised their weapons, which began to glow with energy. The captives whimpered, fear flooding their minds and hearts.
Then, in the silence, something small but distinct echoed in the distance, the clatter of falling stones.
It was faint, barely audible over the hum, but in that moment of stillness, it struck like a thunderclap.
The leader's eyes flared with rage. "You said no one else remained in the town!" it roared, its fury so raw that even the other Apostles recoiled.
Its gaze turned to a group of leaners, smaller Apostles, abominations with multiple mechanical arms sprouting from their backs like the claws of insects.
The chosen ones didn't wait for another command. They scuttled toward the sound, crawling up the side of a half-collapsed building with terrifying speed. Their movements were jerky, uncoordinated, like animals guided only by instinct and rage.
Inside the building, the halls were cloaked in shadow and dust. One Apostle crept along the ninth-floor corridor, its eyes glowing faintly blue as it tracked the faintest noise. It stopped before the last door on the left, the sound of breathing just beyond. Snarling, it lunged—
—and the wall beside it exploded.
A figure burst through in a shower of debris and steel. The impact sent both bodies flying, crashing against a support beam with the sound of metal twisting and bone splintering. The Apostle shrieked in pain, but its cry was cut short as Sylar's fist came down, smashing through its skull.
The boy landed lightly, breathing steadily. His body was drenched in blood and oil, but his expression was calm, eyes sharp, cold, focused. Without hesitation, he wrenched one of the Apostle's mechanical limbs free. Sparks flared as the wires snapped. Holding the weaponized arm like a spear, he drew his arm back and exhaled slowly.
From the hallway came the sound of metal claws scraping against stone, two more Apostles, closing in fast.
Sylar listened. The rhythm of their steps, the rasp of their mechanical joints, the tremor in the floor, they told him everything.
He threw.
The severed arm whistled through the air just as the Apostles appeared in the hall and struck with tremendous force. It impaled the first Apostle through the chest, carrying on to pierce the shoulder of the second before slamming both into the far wall. The crash echoed through the building, shaking loose a cloud of dust.
Outside, the spider-like leader turned its gaze toward the noise. Its eyes narrowed as it spotted the metallic limb jutting from the upper floor, dripping with a mixture of black oil and blood that could only belong to an Apostle. "A real enemy," it growled. "Kill it."
The remaining Apostles surged forward, their movements blurring into a frenzy. Only two stayed behind to guard the captives.
Inside, Sylar crushed the third Apostle's head beneath his fist. Then, before he could move again, a faint message flickered in his mind.
[You have reached Level 5]
[10 Free Points Available]
A grim smile crossed his face, but he had no time to celebrate; the vibrations in the walls told him more enemies were coming. The building was alive with movement, mechanical limbs scraping through the floors.
Sylar closed his eyes, thinking fast. His strength and agility were already enough to destroy these things one-on-one. But he was outnumbered now. He needed control, awareness, and precision.
"Cognition," he whispered.
[10 Points Allocated to Cognition]
At once, his perception expanded. The world sharpened. The light grew clearer, the air denser. Every sound, every vibration became distinct. He could feel the minute tremors of movement, the scrape of metal against stone, the creak of a beam under weight, the electric hum of energy in the air.
Cognition governed not the senses themselves, but the mind's ability to interpret them, to pull meaning from chaos. With it, Sylar's brain processed more information than any normal human could hope to comprehend. The world slowed. Time seemed to stretch.
He could hear them, every Apostle in the building. Their footsteps, the shift of air, the faint distortion of static from their mechanical components. Through that flood of stimuli, a map formed in his mind, crude, instinctive, like sonar.
[New Innate Ability obtained:
-Mutation: Echolocalization (Grade -4)]
Sylar did not have time to focus on the system's message, as the Apostles were coming, and fast.
He flexed his hands, then slammed his fist into the floor, cracking it. Dust cascaded down through the fissures. Grabbing a support beam with one hand, he leapt up, bracing himself against the ceiling, legs tensed. He waited, listening, counting the rhythm of approaching steps.
When the nearest one stopped directly below him, Sylar's eyes snapped open. He kicked down with all his might.
The ceiling gave way, and he fell through the collapsing floor, slamming into the Apostle beneath. The creature had no time to react before Sylar's fists came down like hammers, smashing its chest and skull in rapid succession.
There was no time to rest as Sylar's sharpened cognition registered a second presence, a massive figure thundering up the stairwell with terrifying speed. It was moving faster than he expected, its heavy steps cracking the concrete beneath its weight.
Before he could reposition, the Apostle emerged onto the eighth floor, its enormous frame framed by smoke and flame. The creature wasted no time; it raised its left arm, a grotesque cannon fused into flesh and metal, and aimed directly at him.
Reacting on instinct, Sylar grabbed the mangled corpse of the Apostle he had just slain and hurled it down the corridor.
A heartbeat later—
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the hall, filling it with searing heat and smoke. The blast was so intense that the Apostle shielded its face with one of its armored limbs, a fatal mistake. Through the roaring flames, Sylar charged forward. His eyes were closed to block the blinding heat, relying on his new mutation.
He broke through the inferno like a bullet, his body wreathed in embers. Before the Apostle could recover, Sylar struck with a devastating punch, his fist detonating against its chest with the force of a grenade. The impact sent a small shockwave rippling through the corridor.
For the first time, however, his attack failed to kill outright. The Apostle staggered, blood and oil spilling from its gaping maw, but it did not fall. With a guttural roar, it swung its massive metallic arm toward him.
Sylar blocked just in time. The blow was so powerful it made his entire body tremble, his bones creaking under the strain. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his torso, redirecting the force and pushing the arm aside. Then, with fluid precision, he dropped low and drove his fist into the aberration's knee.
The joint shattered, sending the towering creature crashing to one side. It was strong, immensely so, but its bulk made it slow.
Sylar didn't hesitate. He leapt forward and slammed a second punch into its throat. The blow crushed the reinforced plating and pulverized the soft tissue beneath. The Apostle choked on its own fluids, light fading from its eyes as it collapsed.
But before Sylar could catch his breath, his enhanced senses screamed, another threat was closing in.