The chittering of the Rodent-Maw Creepers grew louder, a tidal wave of noise crashing against the canyon walls. Jax pushed his senses to the limit, his perception stretching to cover every shifting shadow and scuttling claw.

He walked forward, the heavy iron hammer dragging through the dust behind him, carving a deep furrow in the earth. Through the handle, he could feel the thrum of power—the upgrade from the Flux Stone hummed with latent violence.

Screech!

A Creeper lunged from the gloom, its mandibles snapping for his throat.

Jax didn’t even break stride. He swung the hammer in a brutal upward arc.

SPLAT.

The impact was wet and heavy. The hammer didn’t just break the creature; it punched clean through its armored skull. Dark, foul-smelling ichor sprayed across the rocks, painting the dusty ground black.

Jax kept moving, swinging the hammer in rhythmic, deadly strokes. Each impact drew more of the swarm toward him.

Behind him, the pressure on the convoy lifted instantly.

Viper watched from the safety of the blockade, his eyes narrowing. “Damn,” he muttered. “The kid’s actually strong.”

He gripped his pistol tighter, his knuckles whitening. The plan was simple: let the bugs soften Jax up, then finish the job. But watching Jax tear through the carapace-armored monsters like wet paper made Viper’s gut twist.

Suddenly, Jax stopped.

Out in the middle of the swarm, the figure just stood there, motionless.

“What is he doing?” one of the recruits stammered, peering through the gloom. “Why did he stop? The bugs are swarming him!”

“He’s… he’s acting as a human shield!” another shouted, awe in his voice. “He’s letting them pile on so we can escape! Damn, that’s hardcore! Brother Jax, run!”

“We can’t let him die for us! Charge!”

The recruits were riled up, ready to rush back into the fray.

Viper hesitated. Through the swirling dust, Jax’s silhouette was rapidly disappearing beneath a mound of writhing insect bodies.

Is he dead? Did he freeze up?

A nasty thought crossed Viper’s mind. If he dies by the bugs, Butch might stiff me on the payment. He promised Credits for the kill, not for watching him get eaten.

“Can’t take that risk,” Viper hissed. “If Butch claims I didn’t do the deed, all this effort is wasted.”

He raised his pistol, aiming at the mass of shadows where Jax stood.

BANG.

The gunshot echoed like a thunderclap in the canyon.

The sound didn’t help. It acted like a dinner bell. The swarm, already agitated, went into a frenzy.

Inside the command vehicle, Raven watched the scene unfold, her face twisting in disbelief.

“Did the bugs eat that moron’s brain?” she cursed, gripping the dashboard. “He actually fired a gun? He has a death wish!”

She slammed her hand against the partition. “Drive! Now!”

The driver froze, glancing back at her with wide eyes. “Miss Raven? Where… are we going to help?”

“Are you brain-dead too?” Raven’s voice was ice-cold. “We are evacuating!”

“Evacuate?” The driver stammered, looking at the convoy of recruits outside. “But… there are so many people still out there.”

Raven pointed her blade toward the tide of chitin and teeth surging toward them. “Look at that. How many do you think we can kill? The Iron Spear grunts have a dozen rusty rifles. They’re already dead. Do you want to feed the bugs with them? Drive, or get out and die.”

The driver swallowed hard, terror overriding his conscience. He slammed the gearstick into reverse.

The engine roared, tires screaming as they spun on the loose gravel. The vehicle lurched backward, smashing into the car behind it with a sickening crunch of metal. Ignoring the chaos, the driver wrestled the wheel, drifting the car around and flooring it toward the valley exit.

High above the chaos, the real Jax crested the ridge of the steep cliff.

He had deployed his [Decoy Clone] moments ago, leaving the illusion to draw the aggro while he sprinted for the high ground. He dug his fingers into a crag, hauling himself up onto a limestone shelf.

Below, the canyon floor was a choke point of dust, screaming men, and chittering monsters. It was impossible to tell friend from foe in the swirling grit.

Jax turned his back on the slaughter, sprinting along the goat path toward the valley mouth. His target was ahead.

Suddenly, a sound tore through the air—a scream that wasn’t human.

Jax glanced back over his shoulder.

The ground beneath the Hive Spires had erupted. A massive, worm-like behemoth heaved itself from the earth. Its segmented body was covered in glistening black spines that oozed a dark, viscous liquid. Even from this distance, the aura of toxicity was palpable.

The Broodmother.

With a guttural roar, the worm shook its body violently.

Thwip-thwip-thwip!

Hundreds of black spines shot out like a fragmentation grenade.

The sound of meat being pierced echoed up the canyon walls. The screams that followed were wet and gurgling. The narrow pass had turned into a slaughterhouse.

Jax’s heart hammered against his ribs. He watched as the Iron Spear mercenaries poured fire into the beast. Muzzle flashes lit up the dust, but the bullets struck the worm’s thick hide and vanished—insignificant, like pebbles thrown into the ocean.

Bones snapped. Men wailed. The monster lunged, its maw gaping wide, targeting the source of the gunshot.

Viper.

The mercenary was shaking like a leaf in a gale, firing his pistol blindly into the worm’s bulk. Bang! Bang! Click.

The monster didn’t even flinch. It reared back and hacked up a glob of green sludge.

SPLAT.

The bio-adhesive slammed into Viper, pinning him to the canyon floor.

“Help! Help me!” Viper shrieked, struggling against the hardening slime. But the rest of the Iron Spear Syndicate was in a panicked rout. No one looked back.

Nearby, Butch smashed his fists against his steering wheel. “Move, damn you! Move!”

His SUV was beached. The tires spun uselessly, digging deeper into the soft sand with every revolution. The vehicle was a sitting duck.

Butch saw the massive worm finish with Viper and turn its eyeless head toward the convoy. He made a snap decision. He kicked the door open.

A loyal lackey from his squad was running past, fleeing for the exit.

“Boss! We gotta—”

BANG.

Butch shot the man in the kneecap.

The lackey crumbled, screaming as he hit the dirt.

The scent of fresh blood drew the worm instantly. It lunged over the hood of the SUV, its jaws snapping down on the wounded man.

CRUNCH.

Jax heard the sound of bones shattering all the way up on the cliff.

While the monster was busy with its meal, Butch scrambled out of the car and sprinted into the darkness.

“Butch…” Jax narrowed his eyes, tracking the fleeing figure. “You think you can run?”

He scanned the terrain, found a slope of scree, and began to slide down, intercepting the path ahead.

Minutes later, the sounds of slaughter had faded into the distance.

Butch stumbled into a quiet alcove of rocks, his chest heaving. He was alone. The rest of his men were dead or dying. He didn’t know how many had fallen, and he didn’t care. In the wasteland, you didn’t have to be faster than the monster—just faster than the guy next to you.

“Damn it,” he wheezed, leaning against a boulder. “Nearly bought it. How the hell am I gonna explain this to the Syndicate? Losing a whole convoy…”

He uncorked his metal canteen and guzzled water, letting it spill down his chin.

Scuff.

A sound. Nearby.

Butch froze. He slowly lowered the canteen, his right hand drifting toward the holster at his hip.

To his left, a pebble skittered down the rock face. Butch spun around.

Jax was standing there, leaning casually against a stone pillar.

“You…” Butch’s eyes bulged. “You’re not dead? I saw… didn’t the swarm take you?”

“I don’t die easy,” Jax said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “And I certainly don’t die before you do. Weren’t you planning to cash in my head for Credits? Here I am.”

Cold sweat broke out on Butch’s back.

Before today, he would have laughed at the kid. But after watching Jax wade through the Creepers…

The hammer resting on Jax’s shoulder was caked in dried insect ichor and gore. He stood with the relaxed posture of a predator. This kid is an Awakened, Butch realized with a jolt of horror. Has to be.

“Jax, listen,” Butch stammered, raising his hands. “You got it wrong. It wasn’t me! It was Viper! That snake… he’s had it out for you since you kicked him out. He offered me Credits to do it! I only played along to keep him quiet! Don’t misunderstand me!”

“Is that so?” Jax took a step forward. “Then why didn’t you warn me?”

Butch choked. His eyes darted around, looking for an exit.

Then he saw it—Jax lowered the hammer, resting its head on the ground. He’s letting his guard down.

Butch adjusted his stance, hiding his right hand behind his back.

“Any last words?” Jax asked, his tone flat. “Want to tell me where you hid your stash? Need me to pass a message to your next of kin?”

“No, no! Jax, come on!” Butch’s voice trembled, pitching high. “We were cellmates! We survived the prison together! If this…”

NOW.

Butch ripped the pistol from his waistband, pivoting to fire at Jax’s chest.

He was fast. But Jax was already moving.

The hammer blurred.

CRACK.

The heavy iron head connected with the side of Butch’s skull before his finger could even tighten on the trigger.

Butch dropped like a sack of cement.

“Phew.” Jax exhaled, rolling his shoulder. “Finally cut loose that dead weight.”

He didn’t bother checking the body. He turned and jogged toward the valley exit, leaving the corpse cooling in the desert wind.