White Well's goal from the beginning was to draw him, Bookworm, to the lowest floor, the Research Floor. Judging by his speeches, he was aware of them entering the facility and massacring in the Rejects' Floor after killing the assistants too.
He was fighting the attackers by using the orcs he added new features to, even turned into completely different entities with his experiments. Judging by him sacrificing the whole facility for just one person, he had truly set his sights on Bookworm.
"Compared to your stupid father, you are good at leading, but what I essentially want is your brain! I don't know how you managed it, but by using your brain that understands everything it reads or sees, I will make you the Commander-in-Chief of my army!"
When White Well trapped the twelve orcs in three different areas, he lost himself. The slant-eyed man, who had only answered questions up to that moment, was listing his ambitions regarding the purple-robed orc one by one.
"An army formed entirely of orcs that have evolved to fight against orcs, and Bookworm, the smartest orc, at its head. Who could stand before me? Let's see if that mighty Khan can use his power when the enemy's commander is his nephew?"
The man in the white coat's goal was big, and he didn't hold back from voicing this in front of the Orc Dynasty Family. Why should he hold back anyway? There was nothing preventing him from looking down on those experiencing difficult moments against the orcs he unleashed upon them.
"The Neo-Orc Army, all personally straight out of my hands, flawlessly selected from among hundreds of thousands, millions of orcs, and perfect warriors who have managed to reach the final stage of their evolution."
Even though the twelve orcs experiencing difficult times could hear his speeches in fragments, when the pieces came together, what he meant was clearly understood. White Well had formed his own private army and wanted to put Bookworm at its head.
"Nice idea, but don't you have to capture me first?"
The targeted man pulled back all the sands he spread across the area, and among these were the purple poison particles too. While King Cobra clustered around him acting as a shield, things began to pour down from the sleeves of Bookworm's robe.
Spheres slightly smaller than a human eye but having their entire surface covered in thorns were lying within the sand. A breath later they began to rise; when they came to eye level together with the sands, Bookworm whispered.
"Sandstorm!"
At that moment, every grain of sand moved in a different direction, and the metal spheres they took with them were also following them. Inside the energy shield separating him from the others, White Well's failed experiments continued to attack, but their meeting with the spheres wouldn't take too long.
The crushing force of the sand and King Cobra, the decaying nature of the poison weren't working on them. Bookworm threw another card on the table; he wanted to use the penetrability of the metal balls by hurling them inside the sandstorm, and apparently, he was succeeding in this too.
The Sandstorm technique allowed the metal balls having a piercing feature to reach their targets by following a chaotic route. It was very difficult to defend against, and especially the flawed products that closed their sensory organs with a veil for Bookworm's poison attacks were just walking towards him.
They were trying to advance without defending against the metal balls entering and exiting their bodies every second, but their blood that didn't flow before was adorning the floor of the cave nowadays. Despite this, their endurance was mind-boggling; fortunately, King Cobra stepped in here.
The attackers it couldn't crush with its body, it hurled using its tail and ensured they started their walk anew. Since having to enter inside the sandstorm once again meant the same thing as walking to death, those falling to the ground one by two began to be seen.
"Fools, stand up! Protect your bodies!"
White Well was shouting, but it wasn't possible for the flawed outputs of his experiments to hear him. They were arranged according to a specific target, and it was obvious they couldn't adapt to the changes around them with their own free will.
"So we need to do things differently than usual, huh! It's been a while since I killed someone with my own hands!"
Alyon, seeing the change in his son's battle, roared, tossed his weapon to the ground, and gathered all the black aura he radiated back into his body. At these moments an armor, an armor of the same color as his aura, wrapped his body from head to toe. Everything happened in the duration of taking two breaths; Alyon was gone, a black orc warrior had come in his place.
It had been years since he wore the Abarran signature armor, and now he wanted to use it at full capacity. He reached out and caught the orc and brought his head down on both of its heads at the same time. There was nothing left over the shoulder of the orc possessing two heads in a single body anymore; like a broken fountain, it was scattering its blood around.
Alyon, the part of whose black armor covering his face was painted red, didn't stop where he was; the orc had tasted blood once. He drew a small circle among those possessing bodily deformation, and now there was a red point on the floor of the Research Floor.
"Your turn, big boy!"
However surprising it was for Alyon to call someone big boy, his running towards the orc three times his size was just as surprising. White Well's work, which even he labeled as a failure despite it being a question mark what kind of mutation he managed to create it as a result of, swung the fist it made with its two hands joined over its head at Alyon passing between its legs.
Its size was massive, but its speed remained below average; when the ground shattered to pieces and the orcs around turned to puree, Alyon had already dove among the test subjects on the other side. The target of the Orc Chief, who crossed to the other side by pretending he would attack it, was the other orcs in the area he was trapped in.
Alyon, who massacred hundreds of people without even blinking because of what was done to the orcs a few hours ago, was killing those of his own race now. Facility 731 was the place where mind and logic were abandoned, and madness was worn like a garment. It was hard to predict what you would have to do and when.
The Nameless Ten were also forming new tactics following the developments in the other two areas. They were Orc Military Academy graduates, and even though each was strong individually, their presence here as a group wasn't for nothing.
They stopped attacking and formed a circle in the middle; the defense line was established here. There couldn't be a better time to use the inventions of the Orc Scientists. Using the element energies compressed inside fist-sized spheres, they made their first attempts to see if they could injure the attacking orcs.
The enemy focusing only on them didn't pay attention to these spheres at their feet, but when the area with a three-pace diameter froze within two breaths, they understood what happened. It was too late; they were perishing among fire, wind blades, stone thorns, and water attacks slicing everything around them to pieces.
White Well had coded them specially for orcs, but when element energy was used, their weaknesses emerged. This situation didn't please the man in the white coat; he had finished biting the nails of his right hand and moved to his left hand when the last enemy in the area where Bookworm was fell to the ground.
"Help me, I want him."
White Well took off the coat on him and threw it to the ground; his voice was echoing inside the area. The Nameless Ten were continuing the tactic of switching from defense to offense, Alyon was left alone with only the orc three times his size in the area he was in, and Bookworm was pulling back his sands.
They didn't know who the Chief Researcher of the facility was calling out to, but it was clear it was his turn. Perhaps it was an empty threat, perhaps an entreaty he made succumbing to his ambition, but the silhouette breaking off from his shadow and passing the energy barrier was saying the opposite.
The shadow, sustaining its existence even under the bright lights, entered the area where Bookworm was in the blink of an eye and took on a human appearance by rising from the ground. Even if its bodily contours were distinct, everything other than this was just a silhouette; it bore neither a face, nor clothes, nor a sign indicating who it was on it.