At the center of the barrier, the clash between Megatron and Optimus Prime erupted once again, shaking the battlefield with overwhelming force.
Steel collided with steel in a relentless storm of violence. Heavy fists slammed against energy-forged blades, sending fragments of metal flying in every direction. Each exchange was accompanied by blinding sparks and thunderous explosions that echoed across the enclosed battlefield.
Both leaders had abandoned defense entirely.
This was no longer a tactical engagement.
It was a brutal contest of raw strength.
"Without those insignificant creatures interfering—" Megatron roared, his claws tearing deep into Optimus Prime's shoulder armor as arcs of electricity scattered wildly through the air. "Let's see how long you can last!"
Optimus grunted under the impact but did not retreat. Instead, his blade descended in a heavy arc, carving an even deeper fracture across Megatron's chest plating.
"Your eyes see only destruction, Megatron," he replied, his voice steady despite the damage. "That is why you will never become truly strong."
Elsewhere, chaos unfolded across the battlefield.
Barricade clashed violently with Arcee, while Devastator engaged Skids in a brutal struggle that shook the ground beneath them. The air was filled with the deafening roar of gunfire, the grinding screech of metal, and the impact of heavy collisions.
Arcee's damaged right arm severely limited her movement. Under Barricade's relentless assault, cracks spread rapidly across her pink-and-white armor as she struggled to maintain her footing.
Skids, meanwhile, grappled with Devastator, their collision sending shockwaves through the terrain.
Yet despite all this—
The most suffocating pressure within the barrier came from a single figure.
Uchiha Mo.
He stood silently, his gaze sweeping across the remaining NEST soldiers. They tightened their grips on their weapons, their faces pale with fear, yet still clinging to fragile resolve.
A faint smile curved his lips.
"It seems…" he said softly, "only we remain now."
William Lennox's pupils shrank.
"All units—target that man! Open fire!"
Gunfire erupted instantly.
Bullets rained down like a storm, engulfing Mo's position from every direction. The battlefield trembled under the sheer volume of firepower unleashed upon him.
And yet—
Mo's figure blurred.
Like a phantom drifting between reality and illusion.
The bullets passed straight through him, leaving behind only faint ripples before striking the ground or barrier behind him with dull, useless impacts.
"Damn it!"
Lennox's expression twisted with fury.
Watching this ability through footage had been terrifying enough.
But witnessing it in reality—
Was something else entirely.
Physical attacks—
Were meaningless.
Mo moved calmly through the storm of gunfire.
The Tang blade spun lightly in his hand as he stepped forward without urgency.
"Too slow."
His voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
In the next instant, he appeared behind a soldier mid-reload.
A flash of steel.
A clean slash.
Blood burst outward, blooming like a crimson flower across his Daoist robe. The soldier collapsed, eyes still wide with disbelief.
"Johnson!"
Another soldier shouted, turning to fire—
But Mo had already vanished.
The bullets tore through empty air, striking nothing but an afterimage.
He reappeared on the opposite side and struck again.
A single motion.
A controlled swing.
The soldier attempting close combat was launched backward, crashing violently into the barrier. Flames surged instantly, consuming his body completely.
Nothing remained.
"Bastard—die!"
Robert Epps roared as he charged forward, unleashing a full barrage of firepower.
Mo didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
Didn't even acknowledge the attack.
He flickered in and out of existence, appearing and disappearing like a ghost of death. Every time he manifested—
Someone died.
No flashy techniques.
No grand displays of power.
Only—
Pure taijutsu.
And a blade.
Yet that alone was enough to drag every soldier into despair.
Lennox shouted over the chaos.
"Predict his movement! Lead your shots!"
But it was useless.
The reason was simple.
Mo—
Could not be touched.
At the core of his ability lay a concept that defied conventional combat.
By shifting his body—partially or entirely—into another spatial layer, he effectively removed himself from the current plane of existence. Attacks passed through him not because they missed—
But because, at that moment—
He simply wasn't there.
Bullets.
Explosions.
Shockwaves.
All became meaningless.
Like striking a reflection on water.
There was only one weakness.
At the moment he attacked—
He had to become tangible.
That brief instant—
Was the only time he truly existed in the same space as his enemies.
The only window—
Where he could be harmed.
But no one present—
Had the ability to exploit it.
Boom.
Another soldier fell.
Crack.
Another bone shattered.
Thud.
Another body hit the ground.
Mo moved like an invisible executioner, his presence weaving through the battlefield with absolute control. Each strike was precise. Each motion was calculated.
And every attack—
Was fatal.
Lennox watched in despair.
All their tactics.
All their firepower.
All their courage—
Collapsed before this ability.
This was no longer a battle.
It was slaughter.
Cold.
One-sided.
Cruel.
The unknown bred fear.
The incomprehensible—
Bred despair.
Another impact echoed across the field as a soldier was sent flying, his armor crushed inward from a single strike.
Mo faded once more—
Then reappeared beside Epps.
Before anyone could react—
The blade fell.
Clean.
Effortless.
Epps' arm separated from his body at the shoulder.
Blood erupted like a fountain.
A broken scream tore from his throat as he collapsed to his knees.
This time—
Mo did not vanish.
He remained standing.
Looking down at the fallen man.
A faint trace of disgust surfaced in his expression.
"I hate farm tools."
His voice was soft.
Calm.
Yet it echoed across the battlefield, reaching every remaining soldier.
Cold.
Detached.
Inhuman.
As if spoken by something that stood far beyond them.