Zed's body began to overheat, smoke billowing from its joints as glowing cracks formed along its metal frame. The breastplate, once sleek and cold, now shimmered a blinding red, like molten iron ready to erupt. It wasn't just charging up. It was counting down.
A soft whir filled the air. Zed's final breath. Jax closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply through his nose. The heat washed over him like waves from a dying sun.
He knew what came next.
Zed's core wasn't ordinary. It was experimental.....unstable. A full detonation would leave nothing behind but a scorched crater and echoes. No one in a hundred-meter radius would survive. Not him. Not the figure. Not even the old man.
Jax glanced around. The battlefield was wrecked. Rubble, twisted metal, fractured roads. The burger joint, the one that started it all, flickered with broken neon from a cracked sign. No civilians. No witnesses. Maybe fate was merciful in its own way.
