Above the Blood Moon

The wind whistled past my ears, like countless knives scraping across my cheeks.

Jockley gritted his teeth and charged forward, the sloping warehouse roof beneath his feet making his feet go numb from the vibrations of the metal mesh.

He didn't have a prosthetic body, but the physical abilities of superhumans are still stronger than those of ordinary people. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he could still run and think.

Jockley glanced back, and that one glance chilled him to the bone.

The men in red caught up, their backs unfurling a pair of small jet-powered wings. Twenty streaks of blue flame left long trails in the night sky, like a flock of swooping falcons, moving at least three times faster than when they were running across the rooftops.

The distance is rapidly decreasing.

"Damn it..." Jockley cursed, grabbed his rifle, and without even taking a shot, turned and fired a burst of blind shots at his rear.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The bullets struck the outer wall of the warehouse, sending up a string of sparks, but didn't even graz the man in red.

The opponents didn't even try to dodge; their energy shields glowed with a pale blue light, and bullets bounced off them without leaving a ripple.

Jockley's mind raced.

Terrain, weapons, superpowers—all this information spun in my mind like fragments, as I tried to piece together a plan to survive.

But no, at least not now.

He turned to look to the side; Huang Shuangyan was dying.

The woman's face was as pale as paper, her lips were purple, and her chest heaved violently, as if each breath was trying to rip out her lungs.

She has no cybernetic body. Although Huang Shuangyan is not a superhuman, she still retains the pride of a primitive human and refuses any mechanical modification.

However, this pride has now become a death knell, as the physical limits of ordinary people are simply not enough in this life-threatening pursuit.

"Big Yellow!" Jockley roared.

"exist!"

"Hold her! Don't let her fall behind!"

Without saying a word, Da Huang stretched out his mechanical arm and scooped Huang Shuangyan up like a chick, tucking her under his arm.

Huang Shuangyan didn't even have the strength to protest anymore. She slumped into Da Huang's arms, her eyes half-closed, only able to gasp for breath.

With one less hindrance, Jockley's speed improved slightly, but it wasn't enough.

The sound of jet propulsion behind him grew closer and closer, like the breath of death. Jockley could even hear the high-frequency buzzing sound of the energy blades activating. Just then, he heard Huang Shuangyan's weak voice coming from his arms.

"gun……"

Jockley didn't hear clearly.

"What?"

"The gun on your companion's back." Huang Shuangyan struggled to raise her head, her eyes fixed on the rifle made from a human spine on Da Huang's back, which was currently secured to Da Huang's back with a leather strap.

"Blasphemy, you're still hiding it at a time like this, use it no matter the cost."

Jockley paused for a moment, then immediately realized that Huang Shuangyan was referring to that extremely eerie gun that could whisper secrets.

He had tried touching it before, and he still vividly remembers the cool, tingling sensation.

"There's a price to pay, that thing comes at a price."

"Is the cost greater than death?!" Huang Shuangyan practically roared, her voice hoarse, her eyes bloodshot. "Shoot! Otherwise, we'll all die!"

Jockley fell silent. He glanced back and saw that the men in red had closed to within fifty meters. The one in front had even raised his energy blade, the edge of which gleamed with a dangerous purple light in the moonlight.

"Damn it," Jockley cursed, reaching for the gun on Big Yellow's back.

But he was a step too slow; Huang Shuangyan made the first move.

The woman, with a sudden burst of strength, broke free from Da Huang's embrace, grabbed the leather strap of the bone gun with one hand, and pulled it into her hand.

The sensation of touching it sent a shiver down Huang Shuangyan's spine. Her bones seemed to wriggle slightly in her palm, as if something was awakening inside her spine. The black metal connectors began to heat up, making her palms red.

But she didn't dare let go. She turned around, faced the man in red who was chasing her, raised her gun, and pulled the trigger.

There was no sound, no flash, no smoke, nothing at all, but Huang Shuangyan's body trembled violently.

In that instant, she seemed to see her deceased father lying on the hospital bed, his eyes cloudy as he looked at her, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

Then the father's eyes suddenly widened, and her face was reflected in his pupils. That face began to melt, the skin peeled away, revealing the white bones underneath.

Her mother was cooking in the kitchen, her back to her. The soup in the pot was boiling and steaming. Her mother turned around, smiled at her, and said, "Yanzi, dinner's ready." But there were no eyes on that face, only two black holes. Blood flowed from the holes into the soup, turning it red and causing it to boil. Her younger brother's toys floated to the surface.

The younger brother was crying, huddled in the corner, hugging his knees, his shoulders heaving. She went over to hug him, but her hand passed right through his body. The younger brother looked up, his face covered in tears, and said...

"Sister, it hurts so much..."

Then the younger brother's skin began to crack, like pieces of shattered porcelain falling off one by one, revealing his writhing internal organs inside...

"Ah... Ahhh..."

Huang Shuangyan let out an incoherent sob, tears streaming down her face, mixed with blood. She felt as if a cold hand was gripping her heart, squeezing it so hard that she couldn't breathe, squeezing it so hard that she wanted to tear her chest open and dig out the source of her pain.

But she still didn't let go, holding her gun high, and the three men in red chasing in front suddenly froze.

Their jet thrusters were still working, and their bodies were still rushing forward, but suddenly their bodies stiffened, and one of the men in red suddenly raised his head and looked at the blood moon above.

The eternal, scarlet star seemed to transform into an eye in his eyes.

A huge, bloodshot eye coldly looked down at him, down at this tiny, ridiculous, self-important mechanical creation. His face was reflected in the pupil of the eye, a face from long ago when he was just an ordinary soldier.

Young, inexperienced, and with a sparkle in their eyes.

Then the face began to rot, the skin peeled off, the muscles atrophied, the eyeballs melted, revealing the skull underneath.

The man in red began to tremble. He raised his right hand and slowly aimed the vibrating blade at his temple.

"stop!"

A cold shout.

Pisius appeared beside him, gripping his wrist tightly with one hand. The tip of the vibrating blade was less than a centimeter from his temple, and the heat generated by the high-frequency vibration even scorched the surface coating of the faceplate.

Pisius turned his head and looked ahead, his mechanical eyes locking onto the gun in Huang Shuangyan's hand.

The bone-like gun body, the black connectors, and the small characters engraved on the gun body were all clearly visible thanks to his optical zoom, even from a distance.

"Pain is power"

"Blasphemy." Pisius spat out the three words through gritted teeth, his voice icy. "They have blasphemy."

Jockley noticed the pursuers' sudden decrease in speed and also saw Huang Shuangyan's condition. The woman was gripping the bone spear tightly with both hands, her whole body soaked as if she had just been pulled out of the water, tears and blood streaming down her face, and she was unconsciously muttering something like "Dad... Mom... Brother..."

He rushed over and snatched the gun from her hand. The moment he touched it, that icy, tingling sensation returned, but this time it was stronger, like countless needles piercing his palm and climbing up his veins.

Then countless voices inexplicably appeared in his mind. Since Jockley's superpower state had not been turned off, this feeling was even stronger. All the voices overlapped and became an incomprehensible and extremely crazy babbling.

Those ramblings seeped into his mind, churning it and turning his memories and thoughts into a jumbled mess.

He saw himself standing in his office, holding a project proposal, smiling. Then the office suddenly collapsed, the ceiling crashed down, and he was buried underneath. He reached out to call for help, but his hand reached out from the rubble and grabbed nothing.

The scene suddenly changed. Jockley saw his parents watching TV in the living room, cooking in the kitchen, and watering flowers on the balcony. He wanted to say hello to them, but the images began to fade, turning yellow and broken like old photographs. He reached out to grab them, but all he grasped was ashes.

He saw his childhood friend standing in front of him, smiling. Then, a knife appeared in Choklee's hand. He didn't know where the knife came from. One slash, two slashes, three slashes...

His childhood friend didn't resist; he just stared at him, his eyes shifting from confusion to pain to despair, as blood splattered onto his face.

He didn't know why, he just couldn't stop.

"ah--!!!"

Jockley roared.

He realized that although these scenes were absurd, they concealed a cold reality: he might not be able to go back, he might never be able to go back. Everything he did here—the people he killed, the injuries he sustained, the blood he shed—would eventually become a part of him, turning him into another person, someone he himself would not recognize.

but……

But he still had things to do, and he suddenly opened his eyes.

With blood in his eyes, he saw the red-clad figures suspended in mid-air, and the psychic being tumbling through the air, clutching his head.

This is an opportunity.

He raised the bone gun and, without even having time to aim, repeatedly pulled the trigger at the red figure.

With each pull of the trigger, more sounds drilled into his brain, more images tore through his consciousness. He felt his head was about to explode, his soul was being ripped to pieces, and something was crawling up the gun and into his body, trying to take over his form.

But Jockley didn't stop, because the results were terrifyingly effective.

The five red-clad figures at the front stopped advancing abruptly, hovering in mid-air like puppets with broken strings.

Two of them started headbutting their teammates. The metal visors hit the alloy with dull thuds, and the visors quickly deformed and cracked, revealing their bloodied and mangled faces underneath.

The level 2 psycho-type ability user was in the worst condition.

He hovered in mid-air, his hands covering his head, his mechanical eyes flashing wildly, and he let out incoherent screams.

Then he suddenly drew the energy blade from his waist, a purple light blade popping out from the edge, and stabbed it into his abdomen.

"Pfft."

As the light blade pierced through the armor, the alloy skeleton, and the fragile biological tissue inside, red blood spurted out.

He pulled the energy blade out and then stabbed it back in, laughing as he did so—a manic, hysterical laugh that tore at the corners of his mouth and brought tears and blood to his eyes.

"Praise be to the Blood Moon..." he roared, his voice like a broken gong, "Praise be to the magnificent Blood Moon, I saw it... I saw it..."