"Now then, Cult Leader. How about helping me test out the performance of our new product?"
Doctor laughed, speaking through Lucia's face.
By appearance alone, she looked like the young lady of the Rainburg Family in every possible way. Her well-formed features, slender limbs, and the fair skin peeking through the gaps in her slightly disheveled clothing were unchanged.
However, her demeanor was far from that of a refined lady.
Dropping low at the hips with heels slightly raised, she balanced her weight so she could spring forward at any moment—just like a feline predator.
Her wide eyes shone with a wild glint, and the mouth curled in a grin revealed sharp canines. It was almost impossible to believe this was the same person who had been cowering anxiously behind us just moments ago.
"Hmm."
The Cult Leader narrowed his eyes.
"Do you truly believe a mere doll crafted in the image of a human can do anything to me?"
"That's what a performance test is for—to find out, dammit!"
The instant the words left her mouth, Lucia vanished. Fast.
The floor cracked under her foot the moment she stepped forward, ducking into the Cult Leader's chest in a single breath. Her silver hair fluttered like a shooting star. Her slender right arm whipped around, driving an uppercut straight into his chin.
The old man was lifted off his feet.
"Take that!"
Without missing a beat, she spun, unleashing a roundhouse kick straight out of a high-speed rotation. Her silver hair flared open like a parasol.
With a dull thud, the Cult Leader was slammed into the wreckage of the altar.
Not bad.
Muttering to myself, I drew my gun as well. If that was enough to finish him, we wouldn't have a problem in the first place.
Sure enough, the Cult Leader shoved aside the rubble, trying to stand back up. Knowing it would serve as little more than a distraction, I fired twice anyway.
One bullet hit his shoulder and the other struck his thigh, but the wounds naturally began to close up right away.
Lucia closed the distance during that opening, clearly planning to press the advantage.
However, the Cult Leader caught the slender arm swinging toward him. Her arm trembled under their straining, matched strength.
"You are fast. But—"
A sickening crunch echoed out.
The Cult Leader's fingers dug in, crushing Lucia's striking right forearm just below the elbow.
The skin tore open, revealing a slender metallic skeleton and red muscle fibers instead of white bone.
Without hesitation, he ripped her arm clean off.
A spray of blood, oil, and biological fluid splattered through the air.
When the Cult Leader opened his clenched hand, small parts and chunks of flesh dropped heavily to the floor.
"Whoops."
Without showing the slightest hint of pain, Lucia leaped backward.
Seeing the severed limb, the Cult Leader twitched his brow slightly for the first time.
"An android... No."
He stared at the red blood dripping from the cross-section and the muscles that continued to contract.
Although metal parts were integrated, its appearance was barely distinguishable from human tissue.
"Is this... a bio-frame?"
"Bingo."
Doctor gave a broad grin.
Even as they spoke, silver particles were already welling up from the stump of the lost arm—just like what had happened to the group that attacked the Rainburg Manor before, and to the Followers.
The intertwined particles extended the artificial skeleton, red muscle crawled over its surface, and finally, a thin layer of skin sealed it all.
Perhaps pain feedback was disabled, because Lucia didn't show the slightest hint of agony during the Regeneration.
In barely a dozen seconds, a whole new arm had grown back.
"Well yeah, it wouldn't be able to 'Repair' itself unless it was made of biological parts, after all!"
Showing off the newly formed hand, Doctor proudly opened and closed the palm.
"Thanks to the test subjects, chips, and cloning research data you guys left lying around in the basement, I had plenty of material to work with. Man, I learned a lot!"
The faint smile vanished from the Cult Leader's face.
"Are you saying you stole my research?"
"Make it sound worse, why don't you. I just put it to good use."
"That is precisely what is called stealing."
"You're being awfully nitpicky."
Look who's talking.
Lucia kicked off the floor once more.
This time, the Cult Leader didn't meet her head-on. With a light wave of his hand, flesh roots burst through the floor, lunging toward Lucia like spears from three directions.
Ducking low, she dodged one, deflected the second with her palm, and pushed forward despite the third piercing clean through her flank.
Carrying her momentum, she smashed a fist straight into the Cult Leader's face, raining down a barrage of close-quarters blows. Even as he counterattacked, she paid it no mind, regenerating through it all piece by piece.
"Shoot right through me!!!!"
Hearing Doctor's manic, euphoric shout, I layered on my gunfire while Junkhead deployed his arms, showering him with lasers from another angle.
Assaulted from three directions, the Cult Leader's Regeneration couldn't keep pace.
Before his right cheek—blown apart by bullets—could fully mend, his left shoulder was shaved away by a laser, and a knee drove into his abdomen right on top of it. His Regeneration was falling behind.
Can we pull this off?
That hope lasted only a fleeting moment.
Forcing his way through a gap in the assault, the Cult Leader put distance between us.
His face was swollen beyond recognition, barely identifiable as human. Several holes were punched through his upper torso, and his arms were fractured in multiple places with bone exposed.
It was a wonder he could even stand in that condition, yet there he was, standing firm.
"I see. It is well-made."
Looking not at Lucia, but at Junkhead, the old man spoke quietly as he caught his ragged breath.
"However, no matter how well-made it may be, it is ultimately a remote-controlled unit."
His gaze shifted to the communication unit extending from Junkhead's back.
"In that case, I need only destroy the relay."
"Oho, so THAT is your move."
Junkhead braced himself.
In the next instant, flesh roots erupted across the entire chapel floor. It was on a scale incomparable to before.
He still had this much left...?!
There had to be dozens of them. Every single root—even those previously aimed at Lucia—redirected and converged on Junkhead all at once.
We can't fend them all off! There are too many!
"Junk!"
"No NEED to worry."
His voice was strangely calm.
Junkhead raised a single hand. His Mono-eye flashed brightly.
"It would be TROUBLE if you forgot whose garden this was."
In tandem with his voice, a low vibration rumbled from beneath the floor.
At first, I thought it was the movement of the Cult Leader's flesh roots, but it wasn't.
It was deeper.
Heavier.
The aged cargo shutters lining the walls opened all at once. An entire wall lined from end to end.
"...Hey, you've gotta be kidding me."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Emerging from within were heavy exoskeleton work parts—essentially a colossal version of an industrial powered suit.
Excavator arms. Transport arms. Treaded leg units. An upper torso mounted with Dismantling Lasers. And more. A boundless array of parts as far as the eye could see.
Mismatched in era and model, they rolled out on launch rails and lined up outside the cargo shutters.
The ground beneath Junkhead's feet opened up, and securing clamps rose. With a metallic clack, Junkhead's legs were locked in place, lifting his aged body into the air.
The rails engaged, and massive frame parts locked together from both sides.
Clang, clunk—the sounds of heavy iron interlocking echoed through the room as shoulders, arms, and legs connected one after another.
The sheer momentum of the incoming parts carelessly shredded the closing flesh roots; even when they regenerated and closed in again, they met the exact same fate.
Finally, a thick slab of Chest Armor, descending from the ceiling—or rather, launched at a speed that might as well have been a freefall—engaged with the hydraulic joint locks and snapped shut.
With a hiss of pressurized air, the various locks engaged, and the tolerance in each joint was automatically calibrated.
The helmet-like section on the head, a mask component covering the eyes and mouth, slid open, and Junkhead's Mono-eye lit up with a dull mechanical hum.
Trailing sparks and thick plumes of steam vented from the internal cooling system billowed from the joints.
Standing there was a massive work frame well over six meters tall—no, a combat frame.
"...You've just wanted to try that out once for a long time, haven't you?"
"Romance is IMPORTANT."
The bastard didn't even try to deny it.
I chuckled in exasperation, but hey, I didn't hate it.
"NOW, let us go."
The colossal right arm swung. The immense weight swept through the air as if slicing through space itself.
The surging flesh roots were swept away in a single sweep, and the excavator arm on the opposite side seized the Cult Leader's body.
"Take that!"
For some reason, Doctor shouted gleefully as well, landing a follow-up attack directly on the Cult Leader.
The visual was straight out of a giant monster movie.
The massive frame slammed the Cult Leader into the floor, and Lucia brought a heel drop straight down onto his chest. I cast Repair on the broken joints of the frame one after another, keeping the strain-scorched drive units running.
"EXCELLENT, Repairman! I shall increase OUTPUT!"
"Do whatever you want! I'll fix it as fast as it breaks!"
"HOW dependable!"
Junkhead's shoulders split open, unleashing a barrage from the battery of excavation lasers lined up inside.
A dazzling array of multicolored lasers converged, blasting away half of the Cult Leader's body.
Following up, a massive fist hammered down, crushing the old man along with the floor beneath him.
This time, we can definitely finish him.
The moment that thought crossed my mind—
Junkhead's massive frame bulged from the inside out.
"...Hm?"
Dark red flesh spilled out from the gaps in the armor.
The Cult Leader's roots.
When he had seized him earlier, it seemed a severed piece had burrowed into the arm and slipped inside.
"Junk, purge it!"
"!"
Before Junkhead could react, the flesh roots multiplied explosively.
They forced open the joints from within, tearing through the wiring and devouring the work frame.
I immediately cast Repair, reconnecting the severed wiring and shattered joints one after another, but the flesh roots dug in wherever I fixed, tearing the interior apart once more. The corruption was simply spreading too fast.
Having them get inside is bad news. If he stayed still, separation would be easy, but—!
"THIS is... a bit ROUGH, I'd say!"
Saying that, Junkhead executed an emergency frame purge.
The back section blew open as if bursting, ejecting his main body backward.
In the next instant, the massive frame was engulfed in dark red flesh, collapsing into a twisted mass of scrap iron.
"Now then, is that the end of it?"
Speaking those words, the Cult Leader crawled out from the depths of the collapsed machine.
His entire body was covered in wounds, his clothes long gone, and his lower half had fused with the flesh roots. Throbbing veins ran across his body like exposed nerves.
Just then, Lucia lunged in from the side.
"We're not done yet!"
Her fist landed clean on the Cult Leader's cheek. However, perhaps because the flesh roots were anchored to the ground, his face merely squashed and warped from the blow without sending him flying.
"!?"
Seeing Lucia freeze in surprise, the Cult Leader sneered. He drove a knife-hand straight through Lucia's stomach, seized her right arm, and tore it off from the shoulder. As a finishing blow, a flesh root sliced off her right leg clean from the hip.
Even so, the repair nanomachines continued to work, trying to close the shoulder wound, extend the lost leg, and fill the hole in her stomach.
However, the recovery speed was slow.
She had hit the limit of organic Regeneration. The nanomachines were likely regenerating her from an internal energy source, but it must have run completely dry.
"...Ah, looks like this is about the end of the line."
Doctor muttered, not through Lucia's mouth, but in a voice that sounded like it was coming over an internal speaker. The distorted, raspy voice spilled from her battered body.
Yet, using her remaining left hand, she gripped the Cult Leader's right arm—the one still impaling her—and laughed.
"Here's my parting shot!"
That idiot!
"The whole point of an experimental unit is to smash it to pieces in style at the end!"
Are you out of your damn mind?!
Scooping up the fallen Kaya, I leaped back toward Junkhead.
The Cult Leader seemed to have realized something as well, but the arm holding him wouldn't budge an inch.
"You—"
"Well then, Cult Leader, thanks for helping me collect the data!"
Lucia—Doctor—laughed.
A flash of white light burst forth.
The sound came a moment later.
The shockwave slammed into my back, sending me rolling across the floor while still holding Kaya. Pain shot through my eardrums, and my vision was dyed pure white.
For a while, I couldn't hear a thing, but I promptly activated Repair to fix it.
Eventually, past the ringing in my ears, the sound of collapsing rubble returned.
"...That Doctor guy really doesn't know the meaning of moderation."
"ARE you one to talk?"
Beside me, Junkhead crawled out while shoving rubble aside.
Answering with an ambiguous smile, I laid Kaya down against the wall and stood up.
Looking toward ground zero, the Flesh Altar was gone without a trace, and the roots that had crawled across the walls were burned away. In the center of the circular crater-like depression, a figure slowly pushed itself up.
The Cult Leader.
However, he looked different from before.
His right leg remained withered and thin like an old man's. Half of his face was charred and raw, failing to regenerate. As for his left hand, the pinky and ring fingers were still missing.
He was breathing heavily, his shoulders heaving.
Has his Regeneration stopped? No, though the speed was slow, the Regeneration itself was still working. Was he scraping together whatever trace amounts remained?
"...The materials."
The Cult Leader let out a raspy voice.
He looked around the floor.
There was nothing.
No flesh roots, no cultures, nothing at all.
"The materials... are insufficient."
Those eyes slowly turned in our direction.
The composure from before was gone, replaced for the first time by naked, unbridled desire.
His remaining eye rolled around wildly.
"In that case—"
The Cult Leader warped his burned lips into a sneer.
"I need only absorb the original directly."
His gaze locked onto me, and me alone.
Good grief.
Just drop dead already.