A footprint. A heavy one. Deep impressions in the dusty tile. And smeared drag marks long and wide, like something massive had been hauled through here.
A sudden rumble shook the air.
THOOM.
The entire wall behind the kitchen counter shuddered. A deep, groaning weight moved behind it.
Johnquis froze.
"That's… not Level 1."
The Runner tensed beside him, claws out, shoulders hunched, legs ready.
Another THOOM. This time, closer.
A tray clattered off the counter. The hanging kitchen lamp swung back and forth.
Johnquis backed up slightly.
"Okay. Runner… we might wanna—"
The wall burst open.
Metal counters went flying like paper. The stone tiles cracked under the force of the thing stomping through.
It was enormous.
An Eater, at least twice the height of a man, shoulders like a wrecking ball, plated skin like rusted armor, thick and gray. One of its eyes was missing. The other glowed with that deep, unnatural violet.
Its name appeared in Johnquis' vision.
[High Eater: TANKER]
[Threat Level: 2]
[Feed Value: +1000]
Johnquis stared.
"Oh fuck me."
The Runner snarled, crouching low.
The Tanker roared. A deep, thundering bellow that shook every table in the cafeteria.
Johnquis took a step back, voice shaky.
"Okay… We need plans."
He looked at the Runner.
"We play smart. You aim for the weak spots, I stay alive. That's the deal."
The Runner didn't wait. It shot forward, kicking off the ground, launching itself straight into the side of the Tanker with a blinding burst of speed.
But the Tanker didn't flinch.
It pivoted, one massive arm slamming down.
The Runner barely dodged, spinning midair landing sideways off a table and kicking into its stomach with enough force to crack the tile.
Still, the Tanker stood.
"Oh, this one's gonna be a pain…"
THOOM.
The Tanker charged like a living avalanche, its armored body moving faster than something that size should.
The Runner struck first, vanishing in a flash. It pirouette midair, leg sweeping out, cracking against the Tanker's ribs with a whiplike snap.
CLANG.
The kick bounced off its body like it hit a steel wall.
The Runner landed on all fours, hissing.
Johnquis muttered,
"Shit, even its sides are armored?"
The Tanker lunged again.
The Runner ducked under the swing, twisted in air, and landed a flurry of three high-speed kicks into the Tanker's neck—
Still, no reaction. No pain. No stagger.
The Tanker growled, then smashed both fists down.
The ground broke open. Tables flipped. Tiles shattered.
Johnquis dodged left, barely missing the shockwave, then launched his chain at the Tanker's leg.
"WRAP!"
The chain twisted tight, pulling the Tanker's leg mid-stride. It stumbled slightly.
Just enough for the Runner to dash in and land a clean kick to the jaw.
But the Tanker twisted its neck, caught the Runner midair by the leg, and slammed it into the floor like a hammer.
BAM!
Johnquis yelled,
"RUNNER!"
Too late.
The Tanker turned to him. A massive arm raised. Johnquis tried to dodge.
CRACK.
The hit landed square in his chest. The world go around.
He felt his ribs fold. The wind vanished from his lungs.
Then came theairborne silencethat terrifying, soundless moment before impact.
BOOM.
He slammed through a double door. Wood exploded around him. Glass shattered. The doors caved inward and he skidded across the smooth gymnasium floor.
"GHHHHHH—!"
His back hit the far bleachers. The pain exploded in his spine and foot. His right leg twisted unnaturally under him.
"FUCK—MY FOOT—!"
The Runner followed a second later. Pulled midair by their chain link, the force of Johnquis' flight dragging it along.
It crashed beside him, dazed, then scrambled upright, crouching protectively as the gym doors creaked.
BOOM... BOOM...
The Tanker stepped in, cracking the gym floor with every footfall. Its eyes glowed faintly violet in the dark.
Johnquis tried to stand, collapsed. His foot couldn't bear weight.
He gritted his teeth.
"It's broken..."
Blood ran down his face, dripping from his nose and mouth. His right glove was slick red. Ribs were definitely cracked.
The Runner turned, its body bruised, one arm twitching, and looked at him.
They exchanged a glance.
Even now, the chain connected them. Both bleeding. Both cornered.
Johnquis forced a weak smile.
"Still think it's a good idea you showed up?"
The Runner licked blood off its lip and grinned.
They turned together.
The Tanker raised both arms and roared.
The gym floor was wide. No tables. No cover. No escape.
Just space.
Perfect for a final stand.
Johnquis grabbed his chain, limping toward the center.
"We finish it here."
The Runner's claws dug into the ground. Its right leg reared back, crackling with tension.
Both of them surged forward.
And the real fight began.
BOOM... BOOM... BOOM...
The Tanker stomped into the gym each footstep cracking tile. The echo of its roar still vibrated through the floor.
Johnquis gritted his teeth and limped into the center, pain shooting through his body with every step. His foot was twisted bad, but his blood was already working to seal the breaks.
He spit out blood.
"Big, slow, and angry... classic."
The Runner crouched beside him, tense, blood dripping from its arms.
No tables. No walls. No distractions. Just polished hardwood, glossy and slick.
And a monster built for demolition.
Johnquis muttered,
"Circle it, one of us baits. The other hits from the blind side."
The Runner flashed a grin and took off left.
The Tanker lunged after it immediately, smashing the floor with each step.
Johnquis darted wide to the right, using the chain's tension to guide his movement like a pendulum.
The Runner zig-zagged, faster than the Tanker could keep up. It kicked off the ground and struck the side of the Tanker's knee—
CLANG.
The leg didn't even buckle. Johnquis shouted,
"Didn't feel that?!"
The Runner backed off, shook out its leg. It circled again, then darted forward and aimed a brutal slash at the Tanker's lower back.
SCRAPE.
The claws barely scratched the thick armor plates.
"Nothing's giving, legs, back, sides—"
The Tanker suddenly twist and threw a full-body backhand.
The Runner caught it mid-chest and flew across the gym, bouncing off the floor hard enough to dent the boards.
Johnquis cursed.
"Runner!"
But the Tanker was already on him.
It lunged.
Johnquis dove under its arm, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow. He hit the floor and slid on the slick wood, coming to a stop near the corner wall. His foot screamed in pain, but he forced himself up and threw the chain toward the nearest basketball hoop.
"WRAP!"
The chain caught the pole above and reeled tight. Johnquis used it to swing up, arcing over the Tanker's shoulder.
Midair, he aimed both boots and dropped down—
BOOM.
He landed on the Tanker's back and drove his heels into its shoulder blades.
It didn't even react.
Instead, it reached back, grabbed him by the leg, and whipped him into the floor.
CRACK!
Stars exploded in Johnquis's vision.
"GHAAAH—!"
He rolled, gasping for breath.
Across the court, the Runner was up again, limping but moving. It darted around the Tanker's side and struck again, this time aiming for the armpit.
WHIP-SNAP.
Claws slid off the armor.
Still no reaction.
Johnquis shouted,
"Nothing works! There's gotta be a spot that's soft, somewhere!"
The Tanker turned again and charged, shoulder-first, aiming to slam the Runner into the wall.
"RUNNER, WALL!"
The Runner twisted, dashed toward the bleachers, and leapt onto the seats.
The Tanker missed by inches, crashing into the wall and leaving a crater-sized dent.
The Runner landed on the scoreboard, high above.
Johnquis crawled toward the fallen cart of basketballs. His body was burning. His vision shook. His mouth tasted blood.
His eyes flicked up and froze.
The Tanker was shaking its head, disoriented from the impact.
And for the first time... it wobbled.
Its head.
He stared.
"Wait… that did something."
The Runner seemed to notice too. It licked its lip, eyes narrowing.
Johnquis forced himself upright.
"Runner. Its head. That's it. That's the weak spot."