The moment Marcus's blade ignited, glowing with that sinister, blood-red flame, the Sandman's instincts screamed in warning. His body reacted faster than thought — dissolving into a whirling storm of golden dust before Marcus could even move. Within seconds, he had vanished completely, blending with the shadows and debris around them.
The Sandman had withdrawn. But Juggernaut — stubborn, simple-minded, and utterly fearless — knew nothing of caution. Fear, to him, was an alien concept. As long as an enemy stood before him, there was only one thing to do.
Charge.
Charge.
And charge again.
The floor trembled as Juggernaut thundered forward, each step echoing like a miniature earthquake. His muscles bulged grotesquely, veins standing out like iron cords beneath his crimson skin. His momentum was monstrous — the embodiment of unstoppable force — like a battleship at full speed bearing down on a target. No wall, no weapon, no god could stand in his way.
"RRAAAHHHHHH!"
With a bestial roar, Juggernaut charged. His every step shattered the ground beneath him, and even the air seemed to ripple from the pressure of his advance.
Marcus met his approach without flinching. The bloodflame on his blade burned brighter, red lotuses of fire blooming along the edge as the heat intensified. The adamantium katana sang, cutting through the storm of energy between them.
When they collided, the world seemed to explode.
A shockwave tore through the room, scattering debris and sending the rain pouring in from above flying outward in a perfect half-circle. The sound alone was enough to make soldiers nearby drop their weapons, clutching their ears in terror.
Marcus gritted his teeth, forcing the blade upward against Juggernaut's massive throat. The flames surged from his hands, pouring into the blade, then into Juggernaut's skin like molten chains of light.
Juggernaut didn't even flinch. His bellow turned to a savage laugh as he pressed forward, driving himself down on the blade with all his strength. The steel screamed, sparks spraying outward as Marcus's arms strained against the impossible weight. Finally, with a bone-shaking clang, the adamantium sword was knocked from his grip and embedded itself deep in the steel wall behind him.
But Juggernaut stopped moving.
For the first time, a single line of crimson appeared across his throat — a small, insignificant cut. Yet to Marcus, that single wound was all he needed.
His hand shot out, seizing Juggernaut by the neck. With impossible strength, he lifted the brute clean off the ground.
Before the enraged mutant could react, streams of bloodflame burst from Marcus's palm and flooded into the wound — a torrent of searing energy that spread through Juggernaut's body like wildfire. The crimson light pulsed beneath his skin, tracing his veins in glowing patterns until—
Bloodflame Technique: Fire Chains of Judgment!
A pillar of red fire erupted skyward, engulfing Juggernaut completely. The heat was blinding. His roar turned to a distorted scream as the inferno devoured everything from the inside out. Within seconds, his blood and organs had vaporized; only his impenetrable skin and fragments of bone remained, charred black and hollow.
When the flames finally died, the Juggernaut — the unstoppable force — collapsed to the floor like a deflated husk, the fire within him gone forever.
[Virus Touch Activated]
Target: Juggernaut
Infection successful — mutation in progress.
Host deceased. Mutation accelerating. Estimated reanimation in one hour.
Note: Host will retain partial human consciousness. Proceed with control or elimination.
The first of the Cannon Fodder Squad had fallen.
Juggernaut — eliminated.
Marcus exhaled slowly, retrieving his sword from the wall. "What a nuisance," he muttered. "Now I'll have to drag his corpse back and let Alex rebuild him."
He turned his gaze toward the bunker — Ross's bunker.
The heavy blast door still stood, warped and scorched, but intact. The general inside surely knew what was coming next.
Marcus stepped forward, raising his sword. No words were needed; his intent was crystal clear. Even the legendary Juggernaut had burned to ashes under his flame — what hope could a metal door have?
Inside, General Ross was sweating profusely, the walls of his refuge glowing red from the searing heat. Still, his voice came through the speaker, steady and commanding despite the suffocating temperature.
"Sandman!" he barked hoarsely. "Listen to me! The A-Zone warehouse — it's filled with desiccated sea sand! Use it!"
The flames spread faster now, creeping along the steel walls, glowing like veins of lava. The air inside the room was an inferno, and the metal groaned under the strain. Ross stood firm, refusing to kneel, his jaw locked in defiance even as the heat clawed at his flesh.
"You could just come out," Marcus said casually, watching the glass blister under the heat. "It'd make this easier. I don't want to kill you, General — just infect you."
He smirked. "You'd make an excellent soldier."
Ross gritted his teeth, his voice rough but resolute. "You'll never have me."
Marcus sighed. "Pity."
Then the floor exploded.
A deafening blast ripped through the courtyard, forcing Marcus to leap back instinctively. From the shattered ground, an enormous sand fist surged upward, pulverizing the floor and widening the hole until it swallowed a third of the room.
A storm of dust filled the air, and then—
It rose.
An enormous shape emerged from the depths below, sand pouring from its body in cascading waves. The creature kept rising — ten meters, fifteen, twenty — until its head nearly brushed the ceiling. The sheer mass of it filled the entire prison hall, a moving mountain of sand.
The Sandman had transformed.
He stood now as a giant of sand, a towering monstrosity of shifting earth and grit. His arms were the size of trucks, his fists like wrecking balls. The storm of his presence alone sent soldiers tumbling and equipment flying.
The roar that escaped him was not human — a guttural, resonant sound that shook the walls and drowned even the thunder outside.
All around him, the prison trembled.
The rain that fell through the shattered ceiling hissed uselessly as it touched his body, evaporating before it could even reach his surface.
Ross's desperate plan had worked — and the battlefield had changed.
The Sandman was no longer merely a man.
He was a storm made flesh.
The Sand Giant had risen.
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