Halochassis

Qinglong pivoted on the balls of his feet, twisting his waist as he hurled his dragon spear at Azazel once more. The weapon sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, its golden aura leaving a streak of light in its wake. Shin barely had time to register the incoming attack before Azazel shifted its weight and stepped to the side, allowing the spear to pass harmlessly beside its armored body. The movement was precise and effortless, the mechanical joints responding to Shin’s slightest commands as the weapon continued past them and disappeared into the darkness.

However, Qinglong had already anticipated that evasion. The moment Azazel moved, he pushed off the ground and launched himself forward, closing the distance with astonishing speed. His fingers curled into dragonic claws, their golden energy shimmering around his hands as he unleashed a relentless combination of feral slashes and disciplined kung fu techniques. His movements alternated between wild, beastlike swipes aimed at tearing through Azazel’s defenses and calculated strikes designed to exploit the armor’s openings. Each impact sent a metallic clang reverberating through the old mansion, forcing Shin to brace himself as Azazel was driven backward several meters. The force of the final blow rattled the armor’s frame, and the vibrations traveled through its internal mechanisms, making Shin’s body jolt inside the cockpit.

“Ghhh…” Shin groaned, gritting his teeth as he struggled to steady himself.

A warning appeared across Azazel’s display, its crimson letters glowing against the dark interface.

[Hybrid Armor at 83%]

Shin glanced at the notification before turning his attention back to Qinglong, who was already preparing for another attack. The martial artist’s strikes had been remarkably fast, leaving barely any room for Shin to react, but their destructive power was still manageable. Compared to Lireina’s attacks, which could overwhelm him with terrifying speed and force, Qinglong’s blows felt relatively light. Shin had endured far worse punishment during his battles with the Celestial Wardens, and he believed he could withstand this assault if he remained careful. He tightened his grip on Azazel’s controls, feeling the faint vibration of the armor’s mechanisms beneath his fingertips, and prepared to meet Qinglong’s next move.

“Come on, Shin Rebellium! If you think I’m going to flee, then you are mistaken!” Qinglong shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined mansion. His green hair swayed as he straightened his posture, and his golden aura flickered around his body like flames dancing in an invisible wind. “I have my pride as well! I am going to kill you with my own hands if necessary!”

Before Shin could respond, Qinglong rushed forward again. His feet struck the floor with enough force to scatter dust and fragments of broken stone as he unleashed another combination of five consecutive blows. His fists, elbows, and dragonic claws struck Azazel from different angles, each attack arriving with little warning and leaving Shin struggling to keep up with the rhythm. The armor raised its arms to guard against the barrage, but every successful block sent another jolt through its frame. The repeated impacts began to take their toll, and the warning indicators on Shin’s display flashed more frequently as Azazel’s Hybrid Armor deteriorated.

Shin decided to change tactics. Rather than continuing to defend against Qinglong’s close-range attacks, he used Lireina’s gun kata and attempted to create an opening with a combination of kicks and precisely aimed shots. The armor moved with practiced fluidity, its limbs shifting between offensive and defensive positions as it tried to disrupt Qinglong’s rhythm. One of its attacks grazed Qinglong’s cheek, drawing a thin line across his skin, while another managed to scrape his arm. A faint spray of blood marked the successful hits, and Shin felt a brief surge of satisfaction at finally landing a few blows. However, Qinglong barely flinched. He immediately adjusted his stance and continued pressing forward, raising his arms to parry Azazel’s kicks before they could connect cleanly with his body.

Qinglong had known Lireina’s gun kata for a long time. He had seen the technique in action countless times and understood its principles well enough to anticipate many of its movements. Although Azazel’s execution was not identical to Lireina’s, the underlying patterns were familiar, allowing Qinglong to recognize the transitions between its attacks and defenses. He had clearly prepared countermeasures for this fighting style, and he was exploiting every opportunity to prevent Shin from establishing a rhythm. Each time Azazel attempted to create distance or launch another combination, Qinglong was already there to intercept it, forcing Shin to abandon one maneuver after another. The relentless pressure left Azazel with fewer opportunities to retaliate, and the armor’s condition continued to worsen with every exchange.

[Hybrid Armor at 54%]

“Damn it!” Shin muttered as the warning flashed across his vision.

Before he could formulate another strategy, Qinglong planted his feet firmly on the ground and thrust his palm forward. The movement seemed simple, almost casual, but the resulting burst of force struck Azazel like an invisible battering ram. The armor was launched several meters backward, its heavy frame skidding across the dusty floor before crashing into the wall of the old mansion. The impact shook the entire structure, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the aged plaster as chunks of masonry broke loose and tumbled around Azazel. Dust billowed through the corridor, filling the air with the dry smell of crumbling stone and the faint mustiness of the abandoned building. Inside the cockpit, Shin lurched forward against his restraints, his teeth clenching as the collision sent pain shooting through his body.

“I can do this for all eternity, Shin Rebellium!” Qinglong laughed, lowering his palm as he watched Azazel struggle amid the rubble. His expression carried the confidence of someone who believed the outcome had already been decided. “I may incur damage, but I will regenerate. But your armor? It is limited. Once your life force is gone, you’ll die before you drop dead from that armor.”

Qinglong’s wounds were already beginning to close. The shallow cuts on his cheek and arm gradually disappeared as fresh tissue replaced the damaged flesh, leaving behind little more than faint traces of blood. It was a disturbing sight, but Qinglong seemed entirely accustomed to it. He knew that even if Shin managed to land a few more successful attacks, the damage would mean nothing in the long run. As long as he could keep regenerating, he could continue fighting until Azazel’s defenses were exhausted and Shin no longer had enough life force to sustain the armor. To Qinglong, victory was simply a matter of waiting for his opponent to collapse.

Nearby, Risha remained a hostage, unable to intervene as the battle unfolded before her. She shifted uneasily, trying to make sense of the sounds echoing through the mansion, when the blindfold covering her eyes slipped slightly out of place. Through the narrow opening, her left eye caught a glimpse of the battlefield. Although her vision was limited, she could clearly see that Qinglong was gaining the upper hand, with Azazel battered against the wall and its armor rapidly deteriorating. Her stomach tightened as she recognized the strategy he was employing. It was the same tactic he had used against her: a battle of attrition in which he could afford to suffer injuries while his opponent gradually lost the strength to fight back. No matter how much damage Risha or Shin inflicted, Qinglong’s immortality allowed him to keep going long after an ordinary fighter would have fallen.

“Shin!” Risha cried, her voice rising above the rumble of falling debris. She strained against her restraints, desperate to do something despite knowing that she could not reach him. “Watch out!”

Azazel remained motionless for a moment, its armored body half-buried beneath fragments of plaster and broken stone. Then, its hands pressed against the ground, and the machine slowly pushed itself upright. Dust slid from its shoulders and chest plates as it rose, while its crimson eyes brightened beneath the shadow of its helmet. Inside the cockpit, Shin took a steadying breath and wiped the sweat gathering on his forehead. His body still ached from the impact, but his attention had shifted away from Qinglong’s fists and toward the wounds scattered across the martial artist’s body. He studied the faint scratches on Qinglong’s arm and the thin cut on his cheek, observing the way the flesh moved as the injuries regenerated. Rather than focusing on the damage his opponent had suffered, Shin was looking for something that did not belong.

Qinglong’s grazes began to heal, the torn skin slowly closing as his regeneration restored the damaged tissue. However, something strange happened beneath the surface. Small, discolored lumps began to emerge from the healing wounds, swelling beneath the skin until they formed unmistakable tumors. The growths were particularly noticeable on his arm, where one bulged grotesquely from the spot Azazel’s attack had grazed moments earlier. More tumors appeared along his other cuts and scratches, rising from the flesh as his body continued to repair itself. The process was far from the clean, seamless regeneration Qinglong was accustomed to. Instead of returning his body to its original condition, something was growing alongside the new tissue, spreading through the very wounds his ability was supposed to heal.

“Huh?” Qinglong muttered, his confident expression faltering as he lowered his gaze toward his arm.

He stared at the tumor protruding from his skin, his brows drawing together as he tried to understand what had happened. He had endured countless injuries throughout his life, and his regenerative ability had always restored his body without complications. Yet this time, the flesh around his wound had twisted into something unnatural, and the growth showed no sign of disappearing. For the first time since the battle began, Qinglong seemed genuinely confused.

Inside Azazel, Shin smiled.

“So it’s working. Good job, Aether,” Shin mumbled inside Azazel, allowing himself a small smile as he watched the tumors spreading across Qinglong’s body. The results were even better than he had anticipated. Aether’s modifications to Azazel’s energy systems had given him a way to exploit the very ability that made Qinglong so difficult to defeat. His opponent could regenerate from almost any injury, but that did not mean his body was immune to everything. If anything, his extraordinary regenerative ability had become the perfect weakness to exploit. Shin tightened his grip on the controls, his eyes fixed on Qinglong as he prepared to test the full extent of their new weapon.

“What the hell is this—” Qinglong began, but he barely had time to finish his question before several beam lasers streaked toward him. The sudden barrage illuminated the dusty corridor with brilliant flashes of light, each beam cutting through the air with a high-pitched whine. Qinglong immediately twisted his body and moved to evade the incoming attacks, his martial arts reflexes allowing him to dodge most of the shots. However, the beams came too quickly for him to avoid every single one. One struck his shoulder, punching through the flesh with a burst of light and leaving a gaping hole where his muscles and skin had been. Blood splattered across the floor, and Qinglong staggered from the impact, his teeth grinding together as he looked down at the damage.

His Autonomous Regeneration activated almost immediately. Flesh began to grow across the edges of the wound, rapidly rebuilding the tissue that had been destroyed by the laser. Within moments, the hole closed, leaving his shoulder apparently restored to its original condition. However, just as before, something went terribly wrong. Instead of healthy flesh forming over the injury, a massive tumor swelled beneath his skin, stretching the surrounding tissue and creating an ugly bulge across his shoulder. Qinglong’s eyes widened as he felt the abnormal growth pulling against his muscles. He had regenerated countless injuries throughout his life, but never had his ability produced anything like this.

“What the fuck is this?” Qinglong roared, his voice reverberating through the abandoned mansion. He clutched his shoulder, feeling the disturbing weight of the tumor beneath his fingers, while his golden aura flickered around him. His expression twisted with disbelief and anger as he stared at Azazel, demanding an explanation for the grotesque growths that had begun to spread across his body.

“Cancer,” Azazel answered confidently.

Shin’s voice carried none of the uncertainty that had plagued him earlier in the battle. He understood what Aether had accomplished, and he had no intention of wasting the opportunity.

“This is a natural counter to your Autonomous Regeneration. Since you can regenerate your cells, there is no way I can demolish you completely. But I don’t need to erase your existence just to defeat you. I just need you to have a painful immortality.” The words came out coldly, and Shin watched Qinglong’s face darken as the implications began to sink in. Killing an immortal opponent might have been impossible, but forcing that opponent to endure endless suffering was an entirely different matter.

Azazel spread its energy wings, the enormous appendages unfolding behind its armored body with a mechanical hum. Crimson light shimmered across their surfaces, mingling with the eerie radiance of the Gamma Ray energy that Aether had developed. The wings expanded until they nearly filled the corridor, casting jagged shadows across the walls and bathing the surrounding rubble in an ominous glow. This was no ordinary energy weapon. Aether had modified Azazel’s systems so that the energy it emitted was radioactive, allowing it to damage living tissue at a cellular level. Anything struck by that energy risked developing cancerous growths, and Qinglong’s Autonomous Regeneration only made the situation more dangerous. Every attempt to heal his injuries gave the abnormal cells another opportunity to spread.

The energy wings suddenly flared, releasing thousands of radioactive energy shards in a devastating barrage. The projectiles scattered through the air like a storm of crimson needles, their glowing trails illuminating the dust that still hung around the mansion. Qinglong’s instincts kicked in immediately. He summoned his dragon spear and gripped its shaft with both hands before spinning the weapon at tremendous speed, creating a whirling barrier intended to deflect the incoming projectiles. The spear produced a continuous series of metallic whistles as it swept through the air, knocking aside shard after shard. Sparks burst wherever the weapon intercepted the radioactive attacks, and the impacts sent vibrations traveling up his arms. Despite his impressive defense, however, the sheer number of projectiles proved impossible to handle completely. Several shards slipped through the gaps in his spinning spear and struck him before he could react.

One projectile pierced the upper left side of his forehead, another struck his left knee, and a third buried itself in his right elbow. Qinglong grimaced as the impacts forced him to stumble, his spear nearly slipping from his grasp. The wounds began to heal almost immediately, but the familiar nightmare followed. Cancerous growths swelled from each injury, forming enormous tumors across his forehead, knee, and elbow. The growth on his forehead distorted the surrounding skin, while the tumor on his knee made it difficult to bend his leg properly. His right elbow became similarly swollen, restricting the movement of his arm and making it harder to wield his spear. Qinglong had entered the battle believing that his regeneration would eventually wear Shin down, yet every injury now left him in worse condition than before.

“Graaaah!” Qinglong shouted, unable to contain his fury.

He surged forward, flapping his wings to propel himself toward Azazel. The sudden movement sent dust spiraling across the floor as he attempted to close the distance before Shin could unleash another barrage. His golden aura surged around his body, and he raised his dragon spear for a powerful thrust aimed at Azazel’s torso. Even with the tumors weighing him down, Qinglong still possessed enough strength to make his attack dangerous. He drove the weapon forward with all the speed he could muster, its golden tip flashing toward the center of Azazel’s chest.

However, Shin had already read his movements. Azazel shifted its body to the side at the last possible moment, allowing the spear to pass just inches from its armor. The weapon struck nothing but empty air, leaving Qinglong overextended and vulnerable. Before he could recover his balance, Azazel summoned its radioactive swords. Crimson energy gathered along their blades, producing a faint crackling sound that filled the space between the two combatants. Shin moved with deliberate precision, guiding Azazel’s arm through a swift horizontal slash aimed at Qinglong’s left wing.

“Grrrh!” Qinglong cried as the blade sliced through the wing, severing it from his body. The appendage fell heavily to the ground, striking the dusty floor with a dull thud. Golden energy flickered around the severed edges as Qinglong stumbled sideways, his remaining wing struggling to keep him upright. He immediately attempted to regenerate the missing appendage, expecting his Autonomous Regeneration to restore his ability to fly. Instead, the wound began producing enormous lumps of cancerous tissue. The tumors swelled around the damaged area, growing outward in uneven masses that dragged against his back and shoulders. His regeneration had restored neither the wing’s proper structure nor its function. Instead, it had left him with even more weight to carry.

The damage was becoming impossible to ignore. The tumors were not merely grotesque growths on the surface of his body. Their sheer size and weight interfered with his movements, while the pressure they exerted on his muscles caused sharp, persistent pain whenever he tried to move. Every step became an exhausting struggle, and even the simple act of raising his arms required considerable effort. Qinglong had already been forced to compensate for the tumor on his knee and the swelling around his elbow, but the growths spreading across his back made his condition considerably worse. His breathing grew heavier as he struggled to maintain his stance, and sweat trickled down his face despite the cool air inside the mansion. For the first time, his movements had become noticeably sluggish.

Shin recognized the opportunity and pressed his advantage. Azazel closed the distance before Qinglong could regain his footing, its radioactive swords flashing through the air in a series of calculated strikes. The first slash severed Qinglong’s tail, sending the heavy appendage tumbling across the floor. Before he could react, Azazel followed with another cut that removed his left hand, forcing him to release the dragon spear. The weapon clattered against the stone and skidded away from his reach. Qinglong attempted to retreat, but his damaged knee buckled beneath the weight of his tumors, leaving him unable to escape the final attack. Azazel drove its sword into his right leg, pinning him momentarily in place as the blade pierced through his flesh.

“Grah!” Qinglong cried, his voice cracking under the strain. He staggered backward, nearly falling as pain surged through his battered body. Blood ran down his leg, but the wound began closing before he could even look at it properly. Once again, his regeneration betrayed him. The severed tail and hand were replaced by grotesque masses of cancerous tissue, while the wound in his right leg swelled into another tumor that made it even harder for him to stand. His body was attempting to repair itself, yet each successful regeneration only made him less capable of fighting. He could feel the growing weight pulling at his limbs, and the pain had become so constant that it was difficult to concentrate on anything else.

Azazel stepped back and dismissed its swords. A metallic mechanism shifted inside the armor’s forearm as Shin deployed the Gamma Ray Magnum, its barrel extending with a sharp mechanical click. The weapon’s muzzle began gathering crimson energy, casting an eerie glow across Qinglong’s battered face. The air around the barrel seemed to shimmer as the weapon charged, and a low electronic hum rose above the sound of Qinglong’s ragged breathing. Shin steadied his aim, carefully aligning the barrel with Qinglong’s left eye. He had already witnessed how the radioactive energy affected his opponent’s regenerative ability, and he knew that even a precise shot to the head would not necessarily kill an immortal. Nevertheless, he wanted to see how much worse Qinglong’s condition could become.

The Gamma Ray Magnum fired.

A brilliant beam erupted from the barrel and struck Qinglong directly in his left eye. The impact threw his head backward, and he collapsed onto the floor with a strangled cry. For a brief moment, he lay almost motionless among the broken stones, his body battered beyond recognition and his remaining limbs trembling from the accumulated injuries. His golden aura flickered weakly around him, while the tumors covering his body continued to swell. The wound where his eye had been began to close, and fresh tissue gradually filled the damaged socket. Yet the restored flesh quickly developed into another enormous tumor, leaving him with a grotesque growth where his eye should have been.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” Qinglong screamed, his voice echoing through the mansion.

His regeneration forced him to rise once more, but the process had done nothing to restore his former strength. The tumors weighed heavily upon his body, pulling at his shoulders and dragging against his damaged limbs. His remaining wing hung uselessly behind him, while the growths around his knees and elbows made even the smallest movements agonizing. He struggled to straighten his back, but the masses of cancerous tissue restricted his posture and threw off his balance. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and his expression twisted with a mixture of pain, disbelief, and unrestrained hatred. He had always relied on his immortality as the ultimate guarantee of victory, yet now it had become the very thing condemning him to an endless cycle of suffering.

“Look at you now, Qinglong,” Azazel mocked.

The armor slowly raised its hands to its helmet. With a mechanical hiss, the faceplate disengaged and retracted, revealing Shin’s face inside the cockpit. His black hair was damp with sweat, but his crimson-purple eyes remained fixed on the ruined warrior before him. There was no trace of the fear that had accompanied Qinglong’s initial assault. Instead, Shin regarded his opponent with a cold, almost contemptuous smile, allowing Qinglong to see the satisfaction written across his face.

“You were once a handsome warrior,” Shin continued, his voice dripping with scorn. “But now, you are nothing but a cancerous piece of shit. This fits you more because you were a cancer to this society.”

The insult struck at something deeper than Qinglong’s battered body. For years, he had carried himself with the pride of a powerful warrior, confident that his strength and immortality placed him above ordinary people. He had believed that no matter what happened, he could always recover and return to his former glory. Now, Shin had stripped away that confidence and reduced his supposed invincibility to a grotesque spectacle. Qinglong’s jaw tightened, and his remaining eye burned with hatred as he struggled to keep himself upright. Despite his injuries, he refused to accept that the battle was over.

“I’m not done yet!” Qinglong roared.

He forced his legs to move and charged forward as quickly as his ruined body allowed. His movements were clumsy compared to the fluid martial arts techniques he had displayed earlier, and his damaged knee caused him to limp with every step. The tumors covering his body bounced painfully with each movement, but desperation drove him onward. He knew he could not defeat Azazel in his current condition, yet he still had one way to force Shin to stop attacking. Risha remained nearby, restrained and unable to escape, and Qinglong was determined to use her as a shield.

Within moments, he reached her side. He thrust his remaining hand forward, extending his dragonic claws toward her throat. The sharp tips hovered dangerously close to her skin as he positioned himself behind her, using her body to protect himself from Azazel. His breathing was ragged, and the tumors covering his body continued to strain against his damaged flesh, but his remaining eye glared defiantly at Shin.

“Don’t move, or I’ll kill her!” Qinglong threatened.