E-Rank or SSS-Rank: I Awakened a Skill That Shouldn't Exist-Chapter 163: Metallo rampage (2)

Chapter 163

Atop the tallest structure of the isolated research lab, chaos reigned.

Panic swept through the control room as the very weapons the engineers had spent months crafting to protect the city were now laying siege to it.

"They’ve turned on us! Contact any nearby hero guilds—now!" the head engineer shouted, slamming his fist on the emergency console. Alarms blared across the room. Red lights flashed. Monitors displayed hundreds upon hundreds of drones, now under enemy control, descending upon the city in swarms.

With so many drones flooding the skies, the odds of the Tryst Guild holding out were next to none.

The team scrambled into action, rapidly sending distress signals to every surrounding city, praying someone—anyone—would answer in time.

All they could do now was hope.

---

Meanwhile, in the Outer City

Wave after wave of drones unleashed beams of destructive energy, leveling buildings and turning streets into smoldering ruins. Flames devoured the skyline. Explosions rocked the ground. The air trembled with the cries of the injured and dying.

Some brave guild members tried to fight back—but they fell, one by one, under the relentless onslaught.

Amid the devastation, a lone figure strolled through the rubble, unbothered. His eyes gleamed with manic joy as he observed the destruction around him like an artist admiring his masterpiece.

"This is beautiful," Metallo murmured, smiling as a tower crumbled before him. "I wonder how Freak Eye’s doing on his end..."

The drones fanned out, saturating nearly half the city. Without hesitation, they began raining hellfire from the skies, their energy beams tearing through anything in their path.

A group of wounded guild members, barely clinging to life, were quickly surrounded. The drones charged their weapons, ready to execute the final blow.

But before they could fire—

WHOOSH!

A flurry of gleaming silver feathers shot down from above like meteors, piercing the drones with such force that several were torn apart instantly.

The guild members, prepared for death just moments ago, stared in stunned silence.

Then they saw him—hovering in the air, calm and radiant.

Long silver hair danced in the wind. Two majestic, metallic wings extended from his back, glistening like blades in the sunlight. His face was smooth, sharp, and expressionless—like a statue carved from silver itself.

"Sir Silver..." one of the wounded whispered.

Despite their injuries, they all bowed their heads in reverence and gratitude.

"Find the others who are hurt and get them to the infirmary," Silver Wing said coldly, not even sparing them a glance.

They nodded fervently and fled.

Silver Wing’s eyes scanned the city with a cold, dark gaze. Drones swarmed like locusts above.

With a sigh, he muttered, "I better take care of this before the young master arrives."

In one smooth motion, two silver feathers detached from his wings. They shimmered, twisted, and reformed into a pair of radiant silver swords.

Then he moved.

A blur of silver streaked across the sky. One drone fell. Then another. And another.

His speed was blinding. His movements precise. Every swing of his blades was a perfect arc. He danced through the air like a phantom, dodging, striking, turning death into art.

In mere minutes, over a hundred drones were reduced to scrap metal.

But the sky was still dark with enemies.

Silver Wing gritted his teeth. "So many left... If I want to end this, I’ll have to go all in."

He closed his eyes.

Two feathers detached from his wings—only these didn’t shift into weapons. Instead, they began to grow, expanding until they reached the size of a full-grown human. Slowly, the feathers reshaped themselves, forming arms, legs, torsos... until two silver humanoid forms floated beside him.

The outer metallic shell peeled away, revealing two more winged figures—copies of himself, born from the very essence of his power.

Silver Wing opened his eyes, now glowing faintly.

"Let’s finish this."

The three Silver Wings exchanged a single nod.

In the next instant—they vanished into motion.

A blur of silver streaked across the battlefield. They tore through the sky like divine retribution, cutting down drones with relentless efficiency. One after another, the machines fell, disintegrated by flashing swords of light.

Within minutes, more than half of the drones were reduced to molten debris.

---

Several meters away...

Metallo’s brow furrowed. The comforting sound of explosions—his twisted lullaby—had faded.

He tilted his head and scowled. "Why did the music stop?"

Looking skyward, he saw flashes of silver ripping through his precious drones like paper.

"So... there are a few strong ones," he muttered with mild surprise.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then, a wicked grin stretched across his face. "Heh. Got it."

Without hesitation, he grabbed a half-destroyed vehicle, bent its metal frame with unnatural strength, and forged a crude yet deadly throwing spear.

With a wild laugh, he hurled it skyward—its target: Silver Wing’s head.

But before it could land—

CLANG!

Another Silver Wing intercepted the spear mid-air, slicing it clean in two with a single stroke of his gleaming blade.

Metallo scoffed and crossed his arms, feigning irritation. "Tch. Damn you."

"I was hoping to take you out one at a time... but I guess that plan’s toast."

His grin widened as he looked up. Floating high above him were the three Silver Wings, silver swords drawn, their gazes fixed on him like predators studying prey.

---

Elsewhere, on the far edge of the city...

A massive white building stood untouched by the battle. A glowing hand symbol above its entrance identified it as the city’s primary infirmary.

While the exterior remained calm, inside, it was anything but.

The halls were packed with the wounded—guild members, civilians, men and women alike. Blood stained the sheets, the floor, and the clothes of the injured. The air was thick with groans and the cries of pain.

Some had minor cuts and burns. Others lay on the brink of death.

Doctors and nurses moved frantically from one patient to the next, performing triage with little rest.

Among them, Dr. Mia worked like a force of nature. She rushed into a ward, her hands glowing with healing energy, and began treating the worst of the injured.

Within minutes, the cries of pain were replaced by sighs of relief. Faces once twisted in agony softened. Her magic worked fast and clean. Her presence was hope incarnate.

All those she healed whispered in gratitude, "Thank the stars for Dr. Mia."

---

Just as Mia finished healing her third patient in the next ward, the door burst open.

A young nurse stumbled in, her face pale and stricken with fear.

Mia’s expression sharpened immediately. "What is it? What happened?"

"You told me to report anything strange from Ward C," the nurse said, breathless.

Mia nodded. "Go on."

The nurse swallowed hard. "The temperature there... it’s freezing. The whole room is starting to ice over."

Mia’s heart skipped a beat.

Without wasting another second, she dashed from the room, racing through the halls toward the upper floor where Ward C was located.

Mia frowned as she stepped into the corridor leading to Ward C. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

The temperature had definitely dropped—but not nearly as much as the nurse had described. The chill kissed her skin, but it wasn’t the bone-deep freeze she had expected.

Only three explanations came to mind.

One: The nurse had lied... but that didn’t make any sense.

Two: Laura’s condition had stabilized, reducing the unnatural cold.

Three: She was gone.

Her heart sank.

The third possibility was the worst—and most likely.

Mia broke into a sprint. She shoved the door open, and immediately, a wave of cold air hit her like a wall.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The room was still half-frozen—thin layers of frost covered the walls, and the windows were laced with intricate ice patterns. But the bed...

The bed was empty.

The sheets, once tightly tucked, were now frozen in a half-pulled state, as though someone had risen slowly.

Mia clutched her head as a wave of nausea and headache struck. Her mind raced.

"Where the hell could she have gone in this condition?" she thought, eyes fixed on the frost-covered bed where Laura had lain only hours ago.

---

Meanwhile, several streets away from the infirmary...

A lone figure walked with quiet purpose through the chaos-torn streets.

Her short white hair danced in the cold breeze, and every step she took left a thin sheet of frost in her wake. Her piercing blue eyes glowed faintly, like twin shards of ice reflecting moonlight.

Despite the distant cries, collapsing buildings, and roaring drones above, her face remained stoic—focused, determined.

Laura.

Cold air pulsed from her body like an aura, pushing back the smoke and heat of battle. She moved with eerie calm through the destruction, the wind wrapping around her like a cloak.

"Han and the others aren’t here," she thought, her gaze set forward. "Until they return... it’s my duty to protect the city."

And with that, she walked straight into the heart of the chaos—alone.

---

To be continued...

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