After the flames died down, Axton drove his War Suit through the gap between the two sides of the canyon. He was half expecting another attack to try and either take him down or just deter him, but that attack never came, and he managed to make it all the way to the great empty space that the passage led to.

Of course, it wasn’t truly empty in there, now was it? The ruined encampment of the Gnolls that had tried to flee here was burning and at least partially destroyed, and the sounds of screams and yelps echoed alongside the crackling fires.

Axton swept his gaze around the place and locked on to a group of Gnolls that were apparently too drawn to a corpse that they were stripping to notice him. Well, he had to start somewhere, right?

Putting the pedal to the metal, Franken sped up on them from behind and rammed one of its knives into the spine of one of the oblivious Gnolls, dropping it as the blade sank through the bone, tissues, and more and into the creature’s heart. Another hand hit another Gnoll in the spine as well, but this time it was blunt force rather than a piercing attack.

The result was essentially the same, though, as meat and bone could not stop the power of a giant metal man’s fist impacting it at over 70mph. Bone buckled, muscle ripped, and a metal fist went deeper than the victim would have liked, sending bone fragments into the Gnoll’s heart and lungs, which was another death sentence that could not be easily avoided.

Before the other three could react, Franken had already sped around and delivered a roundhouse kick to the face of one of the three, now two, survivors of this initial attack. Before the force of a heavy mechanical foot traveling at such high speeds, the Gnoll lost not just its face but its entire head to Axton’s attempt to emulate a certain Texan Ranger.

The other two barely got up in time to brandish their weapons, but they were still in shock and Axton took full advantage of that fact. A quick slash across the throat was enough to down both of them in one swift motion, and a second later both Franken and its pilot were gone.

The sound of fire and death allowed Franken to sneak up on a few more Gnolls, but eventually, someone managed to alert the rest and Axton saw his HUD gain more and more red dots in a shorter and shorter span of time. The horde was descending upon him, so it was finally time to bust out the oversized SAW that had, for a decent while now, remained latched in place and unused.

With the knives sheathed, Franken braced the giant gun under its right arm, using the arm and its own body to hold the thing in place as the weapon began to spew oversized bullets into the onrushing crowd. The gun fired and fired and fired some more, and due to the size of the rounds being fired each shot would rip through anywhere between one and five Gnolls before the game decided to despawn that specific projectile.

Axton was loving the thunderous and heavy roar of his gun, and he almost wanted to raise it towards the sky and fire a few rounds while giving off a yell of his own, but that would have wasted the valuable ammo that he so desperately needed to hold on to and would serve no real purpose besides letting him emulate a certain old-timey action star. He, therefore, had to content himself with feeling his War Suit rumble with each shot that was fired off, absolutely loving the improvised massage chair effect that was rippling through Franken from its right side.

Eventually, the horde that had been swarming him from one direction died off, its last members either lying dead or having decided to bail. He couldn’t blame the ones that ran, though. Not many who faced such potent weapons like this would have had the courage, or possibly the fanatical stupidity, needed to charge into a meat grinder equipped with little more than a few tanned hides and a piece of scrap metal.

Axton checked the ammo count for the weapon that he had in Franken’s hand. As he did, he grimaced; he had burned through a massive amount of ammo just dealing with these ones, so expending more precious ammo would have to be a last resort. He couldn’t afford to request a supply drop here and now, especially with his growing suspicion that at least one Gnoll here knew how to use firearms.

He just could not risk that stuff falling into enemy hands, and as a result, he would need to conserve ammo until it was desperately needed. Putting the mech-use SAW back onto the holding clamp that kept it in place and out of the way, Axton limbered up and stretched inside the confines of Franken’s cockpit.

He would need all of his senses at their best and his stamina at its fullest if his fears about the final overworld boss were well-founded, so he had to prepare for what could very well be a long haul. It wasn’t every day that he tried to solo something that was likely out of his weight class, but what else could he do?

His momma didn’t raise a quitter or a coward, so he would put that Gnoll down, regardless of if it made Franken damaged or not. And, if a limb got damaged beyond the hope of repair, he could always request a new one. That is, if he was still alive, of course.

…

“Grrrrah!” he roared as he pounded another skull to a pulp in a single strike. Traitors! Cowards and traitors surrounded him at all sides! His own tribe had turned against him, but he had killed those who had dared to raise their claws against him.

Now there was just this measly little runt to kill. At least it made his job easier, as it lay where he had left it when it fell off his back. “Now, you damn weakling, I’ll paint this ruin in your blood!”

“Heh.. heh heh…” the skinny little runt laughed weakly.

“Do you find your death funny?” he snapped.

“No…” the runt muttered weakly. “I just find it hilarious that the savior of our people will be a fucking Invader.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?!” he roared as he walked menacingly towards his final victim.

“It means that It is here.”

And a second later, as he tried to understand what was said, a jolt of pain hit him from behind once again. In the reflection of a nearby pool of water, he could see an Invader behind him, with a knife lodged in his back. As he turned about to try and swipe at the Invader, he screamed in fury at the most recent backstabbing.

“GODS DAMNED COWARDS!”