Ex-Human Morphus [A Mutant Evolution Apocalypse LitRPG]

Chapter 264

The morphus dashed from side to side, dodging the energy bolts he fired while gradually closing the distance to him. The mutant was annoyingly agile! Suddenly, it leaped high into the air. Just as Miller tracked his opponent with his energy cannon, the morphus unleashed its grappling hook.

It zipped through the air toward him and half a second later, latched onto his weapon. The morphus landed nearby and immediately yanked the cord toward itself. The force of the pull surprised Miller greatly. He had to put one foot forward to prevent his mech from toppling. He pulled back the arm, to which the energy cannon was connected, but the mutant’s grappling hook held firm.

The morphus yanked back on the cord again, seemingly with even greater force than before. This time, with a creak of tortured metal, the energy cannon was ripped from its mount on the mech’s arm. The force of the pull almost made Miller lose his footing. The mutant retracted its grappling hook, morphing it back into a human-like hand.

Miller tried to power up the chainsaw attached to his mech’s other arm, but it refused to start. Shreds of the cinch net were still lodged inside the mechanism, jamming it and preventing the weapon from functioning. With it no longer operational, Miller commanded it to be detached. With a loud thud, the chainsaw dropped to the floor. 

For a moment, the pitch-black mutant and the human clad in the mech suit stared at each other. Several meters of ground separated them. Miller stood still while the morphus crouched low, palms resting on the floor in front of it. Although the mech was much larger than the mutant, Miller’s opponent proved exceptionally powerful as well.

He had lost both his main weapons: the energy cannon and the chainsaw. However, thanks to the recent upgrades he made to his mech, he now had a couple of other weapons at his disposal. It was time to put them to good use.

Miller deployed a small machine gun turret, which emerged from a hidden compartment in one of the mech’s shoulders. The turret was small but quite powerful. It might not kill the morphus, but if it could stagger it momentarily, that might give Miller a chance to get close enough for a fatal strike. 

His mech’s shoulder-mounted turret opened fire, unleashing a stream of high-powered rounds that zipped toward the morphus. To his great surprise, the mutant jumped to its feet and darted aside just before he fired. It seemed as if the creature had somehow predicted his move.

The mutant didn’t seem at all surprised by the reveal of his shoulder-mounted turret. Although its grotesque face lacked the ability to convey emotions, Miller had expected some form of surprise—maybe a slight widening of its eyes, at the very least. That never happened, though. It felt as if the mutant already knew about the turret before Miller deployed it.

How could this be possible? Could the morphus predict immediate events? Or perhaps it could somehow read minds? 

There was no time to dwell on it any longer, as the morphus suddenly stopped dodging the bullets and charged straight at him. Now that it wasn’t evading fire, the rounds hammered into its chest, exploding upon impact. However, they failed to pierce its body. They chipped away at its armor, sending small fragments flying, but that was the extent of the damage inflicted by his weapon.

Bellowing in rage and frustration, Miller popped his mech’s arm blades, the second and final upgrade he had implemented. He charged toward the quickly approaching mutant. As he closed in, he swung his right arm blade, aiming directly at the creature.

However, Miller could already see that his mech was no match for the mutant’s speed. The mutant easily dodged the blow and swung one of its colossal fists at his own. To Miller’s shock, an explosion erupted on impact, shattering his right blade in two. Sparks cascaded from his mech’s glove, and he realized he could no longer move his fingers. The mutant’s explosive punch had severely crippled his mech’s right hand, rendering it completely useless.

Roaring in rage, Miller swung his remaining blade at the morphus. The mutant easily dodged the attack and swiftly delivered a powerful punch to the center of his mech. This time, no explosion erupted, but the blow was strong enough to dent his armor and inflict internal damage. Warning lights flashed on his HUD, but he ignored them. He aimed his shoulder-mounted turret at the morphus, but the creature instantaneously dashed around his mech, positioning itself behind him.

His mech was significantly slower than the mutant, and before he could turn around, the creature climbed onto his back, hammering his helmet with one of its fists. Miller struggled to dislodge the creature; he couldn’t reach it due to the awkward angle. Thinking quickly, he slammed his mech backward into the corridor’s wall, hoping to crush the mutant against the hard surface.

The pounding against his helmet ceased, and for a moment, he thought his plan had worked. But in the next instant, he realized he was wrong. A drill pierced into the side of his mech’s neck, boring a large hole. What the fuck?! How could the morphus transform its arms into chainsaws, grappling hooks, and drills? What kind of creature was it?!

There was no time to think about it, though. He stepped forward and then immediately slammed his back into the wall again. However, the mutant was still alive and kicking. He ground the creature clinging to his back against the stone wall, but that didn’t do the trick either.

Suddenly, the drilling stopped, and the drill withdrew from the hole it had created. Almost immediately after that, Miller felt several slender, long tentacles slither their way inside his mech! They moved into the helmet and wrapped themselves around his throat. He fought for breath as his eyes bulged. The tentacles twisted tighter and tighter around his throat. As the world before him began to fade, Miller stepped away from the wall, trying to grab the mutant with his left hand, but he couldn’t quite reach it.

Suddenly, he remembered the shoulder-mounted turret. Sweeping it around, he opened fire on the mutant’s head. That did the trick. The tentacles released their grip on his neck and slid out of the helmet. He felt the mutant detach from his mech and turned to face his opponent.

He saw several long tentacles extending from the mutant’s back. He also noticed some pockmarks on the side of its head where the bullets had struck. However, those pockmarks were quite small. It appeared that the damage to the morphus was only cosmetic. And they were already regenerating before his eyes! Miller could hardly believe what he was seeing. The morphus didn’t just seem unkillable; it appeared not even damageable! 

Suddenly, the tentacles detached from its body and fell to the floor, where they shriveled and turned to dust. Miller swung his mech’s shoulder-mounted turret around, but before he could fire, the morphus launched an acid glob from its mouth. The corrosive substance struck the turret, eating through it and rendering it completely inoperable.

The morphus leaped and slammed into the front of his mech. The mutant grabbed his left arm and pulled. Servomotors whined and howled but were unable to overcome the supernatural strength of the pull. With a cacophony of squealing metal, the morphus wrenched the arm free from the mech. Miller screamed as his own arm came off with it, blood pouring from his torn shoulder.

Out of his mind from pain and horror, Miller hammered his other hand against the mutant’s back. However, the right glove of his mech was damaged, preventing it from forming a fist. He kept smacking his open glove against the mutant’s body but hardly dealt any damage. The morphus didn’t even pay attention to the futile blows.

The morphus then placed both hands on either side of Miller’s helmet and pressed. The metal creaked and groaned as it bent inward, pressing against the sides of his head. Miller screamed in sheer horror as he felt his head being compressed. As the pressure continued, his head yielded further, eyes popping inside their sockets, blood streaming from every orifice of his head: eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

Then, the inevitable climax arrived—there was a sudden, deafening pop as Miller’s skull imploded, giving in completely to the unyielding pressure. An explosion of red pulp and brain matter erupted outward, coating the interior of the flattened helmet with the gory mess.

Miller’s life came to an end. His death was relatively quick, about thirty seconds. On the other hand, for someone who felt their skull slowly crushing and the brain matter compressing, thirty seconds felt like a lifetime.