CHAPTER 41: THE BRANCHES OF EVOLUTION

"You are the one we’ve been waiting for, Seven," Mitra suddenly claimed with a relaxed expression, caressing the leaf in his hand. "The man that embodies the very concept of evolution. With us, you will reach far beyond what you are now–past the Fulminare, even."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m on a mission here–I’m not working for you lunatics," Seven boldly rejected, facing the figure now with readied hostility.

Mitra’s smile didn’t fade, though he shrugged as if dismissing his hidden frustration, "It can’t be helped. I hoped I could convince you with words, but it seems you’ll need to see the truth with your own eyes."

The man in pale robes snapped his fingers following his words, though it brought the young man’s gaze upward as he felt a presence quickly descending. Between himself and the stranger, a towering figure landed on both feet.

A hulking presence, clad from head-to-toe in white fabric; a man perhaps, yet stood over eight feet in height with unusually long limbs. There was no glimpse at what the person beneath looked like, completely sealed within their uniform.

[Lifeform registered.] ["Proto-Human"]

[Classification: Supreme Superhuman, Stage One | Threat Level: Disaster Magnitude 7.0]

’Proto-Human? There’s no way this guy is human–that classification, it’s higher than some Fulminare,’ he analyzed.

Drawing his sword, the motion was intercepted as the shrouded giant sprang right towards him. The distance between them was crossed instantly, forcing him to raise his left forearm to shield himself as the silent stranger’s fist slammed into him.

"Hrm?--" Seven grunted, finding himself sliding back.

Nothing about the punch he blocked felt like a normal person had punched him; the force behind it felt like a jackhammer driving against his forearm.

While he only wished to return to his comrades and figure out the next steps of the mission, faced with the anomalous human, he found himself at a crossroads.

’Izo is still de-powered, and my communicator isn’t working. There is definitely something here interfering with electronics,’ he considered.

From an intercom somewhere within the mall, the voice of the olive-eyed man resounded, "I really wish it didn’t have to come to this. There will need to be some force used by Jericho, as I’m sure you’ve already met him. Once we bring you back to our home and you see the truth, I hope you will forgive us for this little skirmish."

While Mitra’s voice echoed through the plaza, Seven kept his eyes on the aforementioned "Jericho", pacing back as the wordless enforcer approached. It was different from facing down otherworldly invaders; killing another human was a concept he wasn’t quite adjusted to.

He glanced around the interior of the indoor shopping center, glancing between the pale pillars, the higher floors, and even to the shops around him. Anything he could think of to find an alternative step than fighting another person.

"I’m just trying to get out of here, alright–? Just walk away and let’s pretend we never met!" Seven suggested to the cloth-clad figure that came his way, keeping his blade ready.

The movement of the much taller Voyager kept him on his toes, having to duck down as a stray fist came swinging for his head. Just as he dodged, he instead found the concealed figure spreading his arms out, wrapping them around his body.

"Nn?!--" He gasped.

A tight bear hug; it felt like he was being kept in place by iron grips, not squeezing him with any love.

’This strength–the analysis wasn’t a lie...This guy isn’t a normal human at all,’ he hurriedly thought, feeling the pressure against his spine.

[Adapting to the current situation...

]

[Engaging new trait: "Needle Pores"]

From each part of his skin, black points extended, stabbing into the one that grasped him without any mercy. For the moment, he essentially became a bipedal porcupine, though the sensation of the evolution was hardly pleasant.

There was no yelp of pain from the shrouded man, only a loosening of the grip as he quickly pressed his arms out, breaking out of the hold as he kicked away. The moment he was free, the needles retracted into his skin as he exhaled.

"That’s it! Evolve! Find the next stage of humanity–find the path forward, trailblazer of evolution!" Mitra’s voice echoed through the mall.

It was only an annoyance to listen to as he solely focused on the enemy that stomped towards him. Beneath the clothed figure’s steps, the tiles cracked, approaching with thunderous strength present within that unnatural body.

"Last warning," Seven said through a sharp exhale.

Like a wild ape, the Proto-Human reached out for him, lunging with his hands held forward. Seven stepped back, moving the sword in an upward arc as he let it glide through both wrists. Even through the steel he wielded, he felt an odd sensation as he amputated the malicious hands; a slimy, repulsive response.

Again, no sign of pain experienced by Jericho, only a daunting silence behind the cloth mask.

"You’re not the only one who has evolved, though," Mitra’s voice carried through the plaza. "It is with great pride we take strides forward, reaching for the next step."

The heavy words followed an unnatural reaction by the silent man standing in the middle of the plaza reclaimed by nature; each limb convulsed, rippling as if serpents slithered beneath the figure’s sleeves.

From within the cloth, thick, fleshy ropes lashed out from where the enigmatic man’s hands should be. The pitch-black tentacles lashed out in all directions, crushing the nearby benches and tossing the water from the fountain around.

Seven ducked his head, processing the inexplicable sight as he maneuvered himself away from the wrath of the inhuman limbs.

’Tentacles? There’s nothing human about this guy–nothing at all. Whatever is going on here, I have to get back and report it–but, I don’t think they’re going to make it easy,’ he thought.

The man with limbs as if born from the accursed deep stood a dozen meters away while the tentacles slithered across the tiles, wrapping around the pale columns.

"This meaningless violence can end here, Seven. You’re lost and confused; misguided–but we are here to show you the way. Let us show you the right path, what humanity should strive for–" the man’s voice rang through the mall.

Seven kept glancing around him, finding no sign of Mitra in the plaza, only his taunting voice, "Humanity?! This guy right here–you’d call this a human still?! I don’t know what you guys did, but it’s wrong–"

"Then what are you?" Mitra’s words coiled in the air.

It left him without an answer as he stood there, processing the question as he considered all of the unnatural evolutions his body had taken.

Strength beyond guns; a stomach for flame; blade-like hairs. It was hardly human, any of it, yet–

"I’m human," Seven answered quietly but adamantly, reassuring himself.

Mitra’s voice responded, "That’s right. You are, as is Jericho–you two are merely two branching paths upward to the singularity of human evolution. Two different boots along the same staircase. This is what humanity looks like, when pushed into a corner."

The wordless Voyager swung his torso, causing the mass of tentacles to whip around, stretching dozens of meters as if possessing the properties of rubber. Frightening strength laid within those slimy limbs as they crushed any pillars in their way, sending snow-white chunks in every direction.

He sprinted across the plaza, evading the grotesque tendrils, running along the western wing as the pillars to his right were crushed.

"What the hell do you want?! Why are you doing this?!" Seven shouted out while on the move, witnessing a shadow erupt in front of his path.

Just as he reached the underbelly of the next floor within the mall, a giant tentacle struck through the glass panes above, sending a rainfall of shards his way.

"I won’t watch as the UNED let mankind burn away in the hellfire of war. I hold no ire to you, soldier–you’re a cog in this great machine, but that machine is grinding humanity into a paste," Mitra claimed with resolute will through the intercom. "Embrace our new era! Welcome our visitors from the cosmos!"

All the Voyager’s words did was stoke the fresh memories in his mind; seeing his wounded comrades, the sight of May grimacing, covered in blood, all at the hands of the "cosmic visitors."

A fire burned in the pit of his stomach, squeezing the handle of his sword so hard it began to crunch the metal grip. While the particles of glass rained down, the rampaging tentacles came his way, engulfing his vision in their bumpy, grotesque form.

He swung the blade in his hand with nothing but malice, letting the sharp edge glide through the fleshy limbs. Chopping through the foremost tentacles, he lunged forward, closing the distance while slashing the sword once more, cleaving right through another set.

"--Anybody that comes to this world, anybody that tries to oppress us, I’ll kill them," Seven rejected.