060. The Encounter

The distance made it difficult for Jalu to make out the figure’s form clearly, but the way it swiftly descended the cliff wall left no doubt—this was his adversary. Calmly, he slipped the recording headset into his jacket pocket and laid the jacket on the ground. Fighting without weapons didn’t faze him; as a Division 96 member, his greatest assets were his physical and mental prowess.
The figure moved with unnatural speed, leaping over the gaping hole at the epicenter of the explosion as if gravity itself had no hold on it. As it drew closer, Jalu could finally see her—a young girl with flowing blonde hair, her beauty cold and haunting. Her face remained expressionless, but her sharp, unblinking eyes were locked onto him with unsettling intensity.
Known as Miss X to Pierre and the members of Force Noire, and called "The Light" by Davorko, Nadezhda returned from La Rochelle with a clear purpose. Yet, as she neared, that purpose was consumed by fury. The entrance to her kingdom had vanished—erased as though it had never been. Where her realm once thrived, there now lay a vast, empty chasm, a haunting void where her kingdom had stood. All that remained was the searing flame of her wrath, burning fiercer with every passing moment.
The girl moved without hesitation, her body a blur as she launched a fierce kick, the wind hissing through the air. Jalu’s instincts flared—he wasn’t facing an ordinary foe. With a swift sidestep, he avoided her strike, the force of her kick grazing past where he’d been standing. Her momentum shifted in an instant, a punch whipping toward his face. But Jalu anticipated the attack, smoothly leaning back, feeling the rush of air as her fist sliced mere inches from his cheek.
Ferocious felt like an understatement when describing Nadezhda’s relentless assault. Her attacks came in a whirlwind—punches and kicks with no sign of hesitation, each strike fueled by raw speed and aggression. But for Jalu, her barrage posed little threat. He slipped past every blow with ease, his movements calm and precise. To him, her speed, though impressive, lacked the finesse and control of a trained fighter. Without refined technique to back it up, her onslaught was nothing more than a storm of untamed force against a man who had mastered the art of combat.
The girl’s relentless assault didn’t waver, each strike coming faster than the last. Jalu kept dodging, unwilling to hit an unarmed woman. For a time, the fight remained one-sided—her attacks, his evasions—until her movements became more unpredictable. A sudden barrage of dual-directional strikes forced Jalu to block. The moment his left arm met her right hand, a sharp, searing pain shot through him. Shock rippled across his face as he leaped backward, trying to comprehend the unnatural strength behind her seemingly small frame.
Nadezhda was equally stunned. She froze, her gaze locking with Jalu’s wide eyes as they both stared at her right hand. The force of their clash had torn her flesh apart like a ripe fruit, the skin splitting open in jagged lines. But no blood followed. Instead, what should have been bone revealed something far more disturbing—a sleek, black metal bar intertwined with cables and pipes. Jalu’s breath hitched, the shock still rippling through him.
Seeing the astonishment etched on his face, Nadezhda acted in a way that made his heart skip a beat. Without hesitation, she clawed at her own face, ripping away chunks of skin and flesh. The shredded pieces dangled for a moment before revealing what lay beneath—a cold, gleaming metallic skull. Jalu’s shock quickly morphed into firm resolve. A cold, eerie smile crept across his face as the truth settled in—she was just an automaton. And with that realization came a liberating certainty. He had no reason to hold back now.
Jalu raised both arms, bending them at ninety-degree angles, his fists held near his temples. His right foot, slightly bent and poised on its toes, hovered just ahead of his left, which was firmly grounded. In this Muay Thai stance, he readied himself—this time, there would be no hesitation, no restraint. He was prepared to strike with full force.
What Jalu didn’t realize, however, was that the figure before him was no mere machine. She was a vorshk—a living being, much like him. And as she felt the human she fought push back, Nadezhda's surprise mirrored his earlier shock. But there was no turning back now. She had lost her kind, her world. Escape was no longer an option. She would fight until one of them lay dead.
With blinding speed and brutal force, the vorshk lunged again, each strike as ferocious as the last. Yet, her technique lacked the refinement Jalu possessed. In his experienced eyes, her attacks were relentless but predictable. When her arm shot toward him, he saw the opening, moving with practiced ease. His hand snapped up, catching her wrist mid-swing.
Jalu's movements swiftly shifted from Muay Thai to Silat. A terrifying crunch echoed as he struck his opponent's right elbow from the side. Jalu targeted the girl's joints. He knew that no matter how strong and resilient a creature's body was, joints could always be dislocated using the proper technique. He aimed for the joints of her elbow, armpit, knee, and hip, causing them to shift and dislocate. He even sent some of its small parts flying through her torn flesh.
Jalu's attacks were agile and precise, hitting their marks so accurately that, despite showing no signs of pain, Nadezhda lost her ability to move. Then, with a typical Muay Thai forward kick landing directly on her solar plexus, he propelled her body, sending her flying to crash against a large copper-mixed stone behind her.
An ordinary person wouldn't survive a series of deadly attacks like that. However, Nadezhda, with flesh torn in various places and limbs hanging twisted, still attempted to stand, only to fall again as all her joints had been damaged. Jalu advanced, his breath heavy yet controlled, his eyes fixed on her as if he were staring down a beast ready to be put down. He stepped closer, intending to finish it.
Then, agony struck.
A sharp, searing pain tore through Jalu’s back. His eyes went wide as he looked down and saw it—a long, segmented, reddish-black piece of metal jutting from his abdomen, dripping with fresh blood. The object moved as quickly as it had appeared, sliding out of his body, and with it came a surge of pain that nearly brought him to his knees. Blood poured from the wound, staining the ground beneath him.
Despite the shock and confusion, Jalu's instincts kicked in. He twisted and caught the object—cold, metallic, and serpentine—before it could retract completely. He traced its source, and there it was: the tail-like appendage, a mechanical weapon extending from Nadezhda’s back. It twitched and coiled, a predator in its own right.
With a growl of frustration, Jalu slammed his foot down onto her abdomen, pinning her to the boulder. His hands wrapped around the tail, and with a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength, he yanked the segmented metal with all his might. The tail snapped with a sickening crack, pieces falling to the floor.
But even as he stood victorious, his vision blurred. Something was wrong—he could feel it. The radiation from her tail, the energy that came with it, was coursing through his body, poisoning him with every passing second.
Summoning what remained of his strength, Jalu gripped the jagged end of the severed tail and raised it high. His body trembled, his muscles screaming in pain, but his resolve remained unbroken. He swung the weapon with one final, desperate strike, aiming for Nadezhda’s neck, ready to end the nightmare once and for all.