Chapter Text
The air was thick with the sounds of battle, shouted curses and explosions ringing out like a violent symphony. The scent of blood and smoke seemed to seep into the very ground beneath Zuka.
Despite the roiling chaos of battle, Zuka was perfectly in tune with each of his opponent's strikes. It was second nature at this point, his reflexes honed to the point where it was thoughtless.
Dodge a blade's swing. Return with a kick to the ribs. Slip a blade into his palm, then use it to seal the kill. Use the few seconds not locked in hand-to-hand combat to fire a blast from his gear towards a retreating soldier. It was quick, easy, practiced.
Bloodshed was every Inphernal's mother tongue, but Zuka spoke it especially well.
The battle continued, body after body dropping without fanfare. It would have gone on this way, a song of gunshots and blades, if not for the low, damning chuckle that only Zuka's ears could hear.
He barely got a heartbeat to register the noise before Darkheart's fingers brushed his temples, sickly tendrils of poisonous energy crackling over the deity's skin.
The edges of Zuka's vision tinged acid green, his gear finding his hands without a second thought. With a crack, the projectile soared through the air, headed straight for a sniper's hidden perch.
In a fraction of a heartbeat, Darkheart withdrew his power, leaving Zuka's actions back into his control. With eyes widening and warnings on his tongue, he'd called out.
Too little, too late. The shot hit its target with dead accuracy, rock crumbling and hungry tongues of flame licking at flesh. Horns shattered and blood painted stone blue.
Guilt swam through Zuka, a white-hot fire burning bright in his heart. You missed, now look what you did.
You're better than this, Zuka. His thoughts hissed. What kind of legend can't even aim? Pathetic.
Zuka continued fighting, his strikes gaining a new edge of desperate viciousness. He'd get there, he'd pry that rubble away and save him. He had to.
Lungs burning with effort and muscles screaming in protest, Zuka finally pushed his way to the still-flaming rubble of the cliffside. Adrenaline fueled his desperate search, fire nipping at his fingers as he pushed away chunks of rock.
The battle slowly came to a close behind him, the remaining Playgrounders either killed off or retreating. Zuka barely noticed, too focused on the rocks between his hands.
Finally, Zuka managed to find what he was looking for. Blood and charred fur stained the ground, a single figure lying there, burnt but just barely breathing.
"Hyperlaser…" Zuka breathes, voice barely audible over the rush of blood through his veins. "I'm so sorry."