The townsfolk were looking at each other with concern and calling out pathetically.
"You have a priority. That is to protect them." "I'm sorry, Father Tres!" Eulis lowered his head defeated, his voice trembling. "I'm sorry!" "GO! NOW!"
The young Eulis turned around and began to lead the townsfolk further down the tunnel.
"Switching to Genocide-mode. Combat Open." The unlucky soldiers' heads that got in the way of Tres' flurry of bullets were turned into hunks of meat. But it wasn't long before the cartridges in his guns ran out. Tres quickly hid himself behind a boulder. The bullets that were aimed at him buried themselves into the snow.
The soldiers made exclamations of frustration... but they didn't expect the next round of bullets that sunk into their chests.
"Deleted thirteen, downed three..." Tres shook out his wrists. White steam came from the magazines lying on the floor. "Search-mode. Locate the captain."
While he changed the magazine in his rifle, Tres searched for the commander. The snow and geography should have been in his favor, but with this much of a strength disparity, that was no longer the case. Also, against armored vehicles, his defensive capabilities were greatly reduced. He was equipped to fight in the snow, but his polymer-based artificial skin was unlikely to be a good defense against such high-powered weaponry. He needed to take out the commander quickly. That way, he could confuse the ranks and segment them.
"Are you hiding here? Heretic scum!"
While Tres was considering his options, he heard a throaty voice calling to him. Suddenly a giant sword came crashing down, splitting the rock that Tres was hiding behind.
"God is all-knowing and all-powerful. Don't think you can escape, sinner."
Heidrich's eyes glinted with lunacy. He roared then swung the swords, which glinted in the light that was reflected off the snow, back down to the ground. "Die!"
"Point-two-eight seconds late."
Tres dodged, rolling backward and then springing to his feet. His artificial muscles and lightweight frame allowed him to perform some very acrobatic moves. He jumped up into the air and repeatedly pulled the triggers of the guns in his hands.
"Hah! Not good enough!" Heidrich snorted. He kicked up snow, which swallowed the M13's bullets.
Suddenly, Tres disappeared. No, he hadn't disappeared. Gunslinger had, with lightning speed, moved to the right and was now letting loose another flurry of bullets. It knocked his enemy back for a second.
Heidrich slashed at the air again, but Tres had already moved behind him. Though Tres had avoided that slash, another one came from the right. It would have been physically impossible to avoid if it had not been for his abnormal weight.
"Point-oh-eight seconds late."
However close he had come to death, Gunslinger didn't look perturbed. As Heidrich slashed again, Tres turned his gun and fired straight at his enemy. But it was Tres' body that grumbled. He had overexerted himself; he took a step back.
Had his leg been overexerted and given in? No. From his right knee, there was black smoke pouring out. It looked like the coolant in his right leg supports had been damaged and it was now overheating.
"Praise the Lord. I've got you, AX!" Heidrich swung his sword into the air. It drew a silver line in the air.
Tres was still trying to stand back up again.
From the deep gouge in his cassock, internal fluid spurted out. Torn artificial flesh sprung out of the wound like elastic. Still, Tres tried to lift the gun...
"A mere Doll is no match to me!"
Heidrich planted a kick in Tres' chest, knocking him back down to the ground. He'd taken some substantial internal damage. His body was twitching in places. Tres wasn't trying to get up anymore.
"What foolishness." Heidrich mocked the fallen warrior at his feet. He thrust the point of one of his swords against the man's neck. "I am a warrior of God. Sacred. I could never lose to the likes of you. I feel sorry for you, you lapdog of Sforza!" He carefully steadied his sword. This was to be the last blow.
But Tres didn't beg for his life. Instead, he murmured something colder and more unforgiving than the snow: "Shall we test how 'sacred'?"
On pure instinct, he jumped back—if he hadn't, he would have been sure to lose his head.
A dark black wind shot across the ice. The force of this entrance was almost explosive.
"Well dodged. You are more than just words, then," a calm voice mocked Heidrich.
When did this newcomer arrive? The figure stood between the fallen tuned soldier and Heidrich. It was another young man with pale blonde hair with glittering eyes.
Heidrich turned round to the man. "Who the hell are you?!"
He yelped when he saw the man twirling a baton in his hands move toward him. Panicking, he dodged the attack, but it managed to graze his cheek. This was no ordinary man! "Another heretic, like the Doll!"
"I am Hugue," the newcomer calmly replied. His hand twisted behind his back as if it were a separate creature to him. Suddenly, he sprang into action. He turned somersaults around the soldiers who had tried to blindside him. Lashing out here and there with his stick, he knocked a man to the ground with each swipe. He didn't once look down at the victims who lay screaming in pain on the floor. He then turned his blood-drenched staff to Heidrich.
"I am AX Agent Sword Dancer. I will not forgive this treatment of my friends, New Vatican. Leave now!"