Chapter 151: War Of Mankind 2

Chapter 151: War Of Mankind 2Malakov’s Base – Outer Layer Breach

The Origin jet roared overhead once—then silence.

Seconds later, the first shockwave hit.

A ripple of crimson energy slammed into the outer hatch, blowing the reinforced door clean off. Shrapnel screamed through the night air. Anita landed first, boots crunching onto metal. Red aura burst from her coat as she drew both blades, blood-forged, humming with kill-commands etched deep into their core.

Behind her, the Apex squad poured out.

Jax hit the ground next, his mechanical arm twisting as targeting lines locked onto every entrance. Kira followed, curses spiraling from her mouth as sigils flared along her arms. Serah exhaled a slow hiss, dagger already coated in black venom. Vel came last, red lightning dancing along his shoulders like hungry fireflies.

No enemies yet.

Just wind.

Then—movement.

From the deeper corridor ahead, footsteps echoed.

Fast.



Too fast.

Something metallic scraped.

Then they appeared.

Six figures sprinted into view, their bodies shifting like shadows—human in shape, but not in feel. Their eyes glowed unnatural white. Implants jutted from their spines and arms. Pulses of serum—bright, glowing blue—ran through tubing woven into their flesh.

The first had no mouth—just a mask grafted into skin and two shoulder-mounted barrels that locked onto Jax.

The second had two extra arms, twitching, grafted crudely but stable. Its spine was plated.

The third floated—legs gone, replaced with an anti-grav core and elongated fingers that crackled with electric hooks.

Anita’s eyes narrowed.

"New models."

"Cyber-serum hybrids," Jax muttered. "Low humanity retention. High aggression."

They didn’t talk.

They attacked.

The first shot instantly—two high-density plasma bolts streaked toward Jax. He ducked, spun, and returned fire from his wrist cannon. Sparks tore across the hallway. Anita was already moving.

She blurred forward, blades slicing in a crimson X. One enhanced superhuman sidestepped, unnaturally fast, and brought a metal boot down toward her chest. She caught it on her blade, twisted, and kicked the creature into the wall with enough force to buckle the steel.

"Spread out!" she ordered.

Vel vanished.

Red lightning exploded near the ceiling as he reappeared, slamming his elbow into one enemy’s face. The skull cracked—but didn’t break. The enemy surged back, injecting itself mid-motion with a glowing vial stabbed into its thigh. Muscles ballooned.

It grabbed Vel mid-air and hurled him into Kira.

They crashed together, rolled—and barely dodged a blast from the floating one’s electric claws. Kira cursed in spirit tongue, drawing blood from her own wrist and whispering directly into it.

Reality tore near the attacker’s neck.

A curse sigil exploded like a landmine.

But the enhanced being took it—staggered—and kept coming.

"Serah!" Anita shouted.

Already on it.

Serah leapt over a crumbling beam and slammed her dagger into the eye of one of the four-armed ones. The venom reacted instantly, boiling the flesh.

But the creature screamed, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against a wall.

Then again.

Then again.

Serah stabbed it again and again, her dagger hissing each time it touched skin. Black veins crawled up the creature’s neck. It finally dropped her—but she coughed blood, one leg bent wrong.

"Still... cute," she hissed, spitting blood in its face.

Jax aimed high, then blinked.

The floating one had cloaked.

"Where’s it—"

A bolt of electricity slammed into his back.

Jax roared, half of his spine exposed from the hit. But his machine parts absorbed the brunt. He whirled, arms shifting into blade-cannons, and fired a burst straight into the attacker’s core. Metal flew. So did blood. It dropped.

One down.

But another came.

From behind them, two more enhanced monsters charged out of the far chamber—reinforcements. These ones were different.

Bigger.

One had no face—just a dome of pulsating nerves wrapped in glass. The other had tanks on its back pumping something green into its chest every few seconds.

Jax froze.

"They’re adapting mid-battle."

"Like us?" Vel asked, landing hard beside him.

"No. Like nightmares."

Kira pulled herself up, bleeding from her temple. She threw a curse down and it split into a spiral beneath the tanked enemy. It slowed.

Then it screamed—and the spiral cracked. Broke.

"What the hell..." Kira whispered.

"They’re curse-resistant now?" Serah gasped from the side, wiping blood from her eyes.

The face-dome one charged.

Anita met it.

Her twin blades carved twin arcs, but the enemy blocked with reinforced arms. Sparks rained. The dome glowed hotter, and beams of focused heat burst out.

Anita ducked under them, rolled, and drove her blade into its lower back.

It didn’t flinch.

It just turned—grabbing her throat with fingers that locked like iron—and slammed her into the wall.

The base shook.

She stabbed upward, slicing through its elbow joint, breaking the lock. As it pulled back, she twisted mid-air, stabbed again—straight into the side of its head.

The dome cracked.

Then shattered.

Fluids and nerves spilled.

It collapsed—but Anita fell to one knee, coughing hard.

Then came the worst.

Behind the collapsing body, footsteps echoed again.

These weren’t rushed.

They were calm.

Controlled.

The hallway lights flickered.

A new figure stepped into view—taller, leaner, with a glowing spine and calm white eyes. No armor. No serum tanks.

Just... elegance.

Malakov’s masterpiece.

Lucifer’s blood ran through this one. But it had been shaped with something else—something colder.

Vel charged first, red lightning storming around him.

The figure didn’t move.

Vel struck with a knee, followed by a punch backed by full volts. The shockwave broke the floor.

The figure caught his fist.

Then shattered it.

Bones popped.

Vel screamed.

Anita lunged, but the figure spun with preternatural grace, dodging both her blades and grabbing her by the coat. It threw her—through a wall.

Serah screamed and dove, dagger in hand, but the figure twisted, dodged low, and elbowed her mid-air. Her ribs cracked.

Jax fired a rail beam.

It missed.

The clone blurred.

Not teleported. Just moved fast enough to disappear for a blink.

It reappeared behind Jax and punched through his mechanical gut. Sparks, blood, and black fluid spilled.



Jax grinned weakly. "Got you."

From the other arm—point-blank plasma.

It hit the clone directly in the chest.

The clone flew backward.

Smoke.

Silence.

"Everyone up!" Anita shouted, staggering to her feet. "Don’t stop!"

Vel was unconscious. Serah was coughing blood, one eye swollen shut. Jax was still standing but leaking sparks and blood. Kira stood behind all of them, drawing every curse she knew at once, building a forbidden seal.

Anita tightened her grip on her blades.

"Don’t give it time to adjust."

But it was too late.

The clone stepped back into view.

Chest burned. Skin melted.

But alive.

And smiling.

It raised a hand.

Crimson aura began to coil around its fingers—just like Lucifer’s.

Then—every light in the hallway dimmed.

The air changed.

And the clone... froze.

Not in fear.

In confusion.

Because something else had arrived.

Not seen.

But felt.

Footsteps.

Far off.

But deliberate.

Slow.

Boots touching steel.

Each one heavier than the last.

Lucifer.

Anita felt it first.

Not in her body, but in her blood.

Every vampire in the Apex squad did.

The presence. The pressure. That feeling of gravity being rewritten around one man.

The clone turned its head slowly—like a child caught stealing.

A new door opened at the far end of the hallway.

Lucifer stepped through the door.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t rush.

He just walked.

Toward Malakov’s core.

Toward the heart of the nightmare.

The clone tilted its head. Confused. Breathing harder.

Lucifer didn’t look at it.

Not yet.

Anita wiped blood from her mouth.

"Kira. Now."

Kira’s hands slammed together.

The curse seal exploded upward—a giant iron chain of spirit-forged glyphs wrapped around the clone, binding it mid-movement. The figure struggled, growled—energy flashing—but the chain held.

For now.

"Move!" Anita ordered. "Fall back to junction five!"

They ran.

Dragging Vel. Carrying Serah. Jax limping, bleeding sparks.

Kira last.

The clone roared behind them, straining the seal.

Lucifer never looked back.

He kept walking.

Toward Malakov.

Toward the chamber.

Toward the end.

And the clone?

It watched him go.

Eyes wide.

Like it remembered something it was never meant to know.

Malakov’s Core Chamber – Level Minus Twelve

The steel walls were breathing.

Not literally—but the hum of machines, the pulse of deep crimson lights, the hiss of chemical vents—it all made the room feel alive. Like a lung at the bottom of a metal beast.

Malakov stood in the center of it.

Loose coat. Greasy hair. Gloves stained from decades of work. The console in front of him blinked silently with a dozen red status warnings, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t looking at the screen anymore.

He was smiling.

A slow, crooked smile.

Because they were here.

Not Lucifer.

Not yet.

But them.

They stepped from the shadows one by one—silent, identical shapes. Bare feet touching steel. Same body. Same posture. Same raw presence.

Lucifer’s clones.

But these were different from the one outside.

These were stable.

Perfect.

Most of them.

One dragged a clawed hand along the wall as it passed. Another cracked its neck with a twitch that echoed like bone. Their eyes weren’t wild—they were calm. Calculated. Some black-sclera with red irises. Others with slit pupils like a beast remembering how to breathe.

Malakov turned slowly, hands behind his back, as the room filled with them.



Eight in total.

Six perfect. Two twitching, unstable—but still dangerous.

They didn’t speak.

They just watched him.

Like mirrors tilted at an angle.

Like lions studying an old hunter.

Malakov let out a soft breath, then looked toward the sealed blast door ahead—the one Lucifer would come through.

And he smiled wider.

"...Come on then," he whispered. "Show me what you hate the most."

Behind him, the clones stood still.

Waiting.

Like blades pulled halfway from their sheaths.