CHAPTER 56: SUICIDE SQUAD

Tom cast a brief glance at the lifeless feline predator before strolling over to retrieve his hammer. With a faint smile tugging at his blood-streaked face, he turned to the group, his posture relaxed, confident.

He needed no reminder, Tom was fully aware of the sheer danger his ability posed. Its versatility and overwhelming power left little room for doubt. In terms of raw, unadulterated strength, he had already accepted that he reigned supreme.

As always, the man appeared without warning, silently collecting the carcass before vanishing just as swiftly as he had come.

"I must admit, your abilities are quite devastating," Asher remarked, unable to hold back his thoughts. He could already envision the scale of destruction Tom could unleash, toppling an entire empire, should he ever decide to.

"I’m well aware. No need to remind me," Tom replied with a smirk, his tone tinged with undeniable arrogance.

Ella, standing off to the side, rolled her eyes.

"Why the arrogance? Someone with superior speed could end you before you even get the chance to activate that flashy power."

As she spoke, her water swirled gently around Tom, washing the blood from his body in smooth, controlled waves.

The monster subjugation training pressed on, and soon, it was Hito’s turn.

"Hito. Echo," Drake’s voice rang out once more from above, calm but lazy.

Hito said nothing. He merely stepped forward, his expression unreadable. As expected, the enigmatic man appeared again, but this time, he was not alone.

Five monsters accompanied him, but one stood out in particular. Towering over two meters tall while balanced on its powerful hind limbs, it resembled an insectoid predator. More precisely, it was a monstrous praying mantis, though any resemblance to its natural counterpart ended there.

Its forelimbs had evolved into wicked, curved scythes, perfect for slicing through flesh. Its mandibles were sharp, serrated, and clearly built for rending meat rather than chewing leaves.

Translucent wings stretched menacingly from its back, and its long, thin antennae extended outward, subtly twitching as if tasting the air for blood.

Without a moment’s pause, the monstrous praying mantis, if they could even be called that, lunged forward with blinding speed, their movements defying the expectations set by their towering forms.

But in that same instant, four identical figures materialized beside the real Hito, perfectly synchronized copies. Without hesitation, all five drew their twin short swords in unison, their silhouettes blurring as they launched themselves into the fray.

Steel clashed with chitin in a violent, chaotic symphony. The sharp clang of blades striking hardened limbs reverberated across the forest, the sound sharp enough to rattle the eardrums of nearly everyone present.

This was Hito’s ability, clone creation. Each clone he summoned mirrored his own physical capabilities, possessing the same strength and speed as the original. However, they could not, in turn, replicate themselves.

What made this power even more complex was its reflective nature. Any physical state Hito was in at the moment of creation, whether injured, fatigued, or whole, was exactly mirrored in his clones. If he were missing a limb, so were they.

This unique limitation did little to diminish the overwhelming potential of his skill. It rendered Hito a one-man army, a warrior who could multiply himself on command, each duplicate as deadly as the source.

Perhaps most remarkable of all was the nature of their energy. These clones were not tethered to Hito’s Astra. Instead, each one manifested with its own reservoir of Astra, identical in volume to Hito’s own Astra at the exact moment they were born.

Hito could be seen exchanging rapid strikes with the monstrous praying mantis as they tore through the forest, their movements a blur, ghost-like as they darted between trees and underbrush. Their forms seemed to drift and shimmer, barely discernible to the eye.

The creature’s wings beat violently against the wind, propelling it with terrifying speed. There was no pause, no moment of hesitation, only relentless, forward-driving instinct.

One of its scythe-like limbs swept through the air in a deadly arc, aiming straight for Hito’s shoulder. But Hito shifted fluidly, his body gliding sideways in a flawless sidestep.

In the same motion, his short sword flicked upward, cutting through the air like a whisper, its tip aimed with surgical precision toward the monster’s eye, the attack veiled in a shimmering haze of speed and intent.

But the praying mantis was no mere insect to be underestimated. It was a predator, through and through. Its monstrous form held the speed, reflexes, and instincts of a seasoned killer.

With a sudden gust of power, its wings beat hard against the wind, and its body twisted mid-air at an angle that defied logic, an impossible maneuver for a creature of its size and structure.

In a flash, one of its slender antennae lashed forward like a whip, striking with deadly precision. It slashed across Hito’s cheek before he could react, carving a thin, crimson line into his skin. The pain was sharp, but brief.

Both combatants disengaged, landing several meters apart. The forest fell still for a breath. They locked eyes, man and monster, each gauging the other.

The praying mantis’ mandibles clicked and clenched with eerie rhythm, almost as if it were mocking him, taunting him with its strange, alien composure.

’Poison.’ Hito realized.

He could already feel his senses beginning to dull, the numbness creeping in with each passing second. He knew it wouldn’t be long before paralysis set in, before he became easy prey to the monstrous predator before him.

But Hito didn’t panic.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he launched himself forward, a blur of motion driven by utter calmness. The praying mantis responded in kind, its wings beating furiously as it surged to meet him. They closed the distance like titans on a collision course.

Then, just as they were about to clash,

Hito detonated.

A deafening explosion erupted from his position, unleashing a shockwave that tore through the forest with unrestrained fury.

The earth beneath them ruptured, a massive crater ripping itself open at the point of impact. Trees were uprooted like twigs, flung violently aside. Stones, boulders, and even the air itself screamed under the pressure of the blast, none of it offering the slightest resistance.

As the smoke and haze began to lift, the aftermath of the explosion revealed itself in brutal clarity. Shattered remains of the praying mantis’ body were scattered across the battlefield, limbs twisted and torn, its exoskeleton shredded as though it had been sliced apart by invisible blades. The detonation had ripped through it like scissors through parchment.

But Hito himself was nowhere to be seen.

It hadn’t been the original.

That Hito had merely been a clone, one that, sensing its imminent demise from the creeping paralysis, chose a final act of calculated destruction. Rather than allow itself to fall, it transformed into a living bomb, sacrificing itself to obliterate the monster in a single, devastating burst.

In Cyrmora, self-detonation was an impossibility for most. No being could simply explode themselves.

But Hito’s clones were the exception.

They could ignite themselves with intent, amplifying the force of their destruction through the controlled release of their Astra. And when they did, the result was nothing short of catastrophic.

The remaining praying mantis reeled, caught off guard by the sudden, devastating explosion. But the Hitos did not falter. They had anticipated the detonation, and they wasted no time capitalizing on the chaos.

Their short swords lashed out like lightning bolts, precise and merciless. One of the clones closed the distance in an instant, decapitating his target with a single, fluid strike.

But there was no pause, no celebration, only movement. Without missing a beat, he surged toward the next beast, blades gleaming with intent.

The original Hito, ever calculating, immediately summoned back the detonated clone, restoring it in perfect condition. With renewed numbers, the Hitos swept across the battlefield with ruthless efficiency, cutting down the remaining monsters in a flurry of coordinated strikes.

This was another facet of Hito’s deadly brilliance.

Any clone that sustained critical injury was converted into a suicide unit, using the last of its Astra to detonate with overwhelming force. And once the explosion had served its purpose, the original body would simply summon the clone anew, unharmed, fully restored, and ready to fight again.