The stench of burning and metal was everywhere.

Everything was burning — the walls, the air, the silence itself. The screams of mutants, the gunfire, the dull thuds and screeching of Kraang biomechanics merged into one. This block in the south was a living hell. People and mutants were kept in capsules suspended from the ceiling, like spoiled crops. And Leo was almost there.

Almost.

The katanas flashed in his hands like an extension of his rage. Every movement was precise, honed like clockwork. He cut through rows of drones, dodged acid charges, slid across the floor, parried attacks — all of this was familiar. It was his.

But they knew he would come. They waited. And they sent him.

From the depths of the hall, breaking through the walls, slowly emerged a huge, predatorily twisted Krang, implanted in an exosuit. Half-crumbled, oozing bio-slime, but strong - monstrously strong. Two eyes burned with hatred, like spotlights.

"Degenerate. A weapon created by people. And you still want to save them?" — a voice in the head, not in the mouth. A psychowave. He spoke directly to the brain.

Leo didn't answer. He gripped his katanas, took a stance.

They collided.

First, a flash.

Then, a steel hand grabbed Leo by the chest, slammed him into a concrete column. Leo groaned, but raised his blades and drove them under the enemy's plate. The Kraang roared, stepped back, but immediately struck again. Too fast.

Leo parried its claws, dodged the second blow, then jumped onto the wall, pushed off from it, turned in the air and - drove the katana into the creature's neck.

It should have ended here. But he was wrong.

At the last moment, one of the Kraang manipulators flew up from behind his back and—

WHISTLE. CRUNCH. INSTANTLY.

Slap.

Hand. His right hand, holding the katana, fell to the ground.

Leo froze.

The pain came a split second later. Searing, animalistic. He opened his mouth, but instead of a scream, only a wheeze came out. The world rocked, and he fell to his knees, clutching his bloody shoulder.

His eyes blurred. His ears were ringing. He watched as his own hand, clutching his sword, lay in the dust.

Blood dripped onto the floor - slowly, rhythmically, heavily. His breathing was ragged. His chest rose and fell. His whole body pulsed with shock.

"You are weak. You are alone. And you are not saving. You are losing." — Krang's voice again.

He raised his head. His gaze darted: abandoned cages, mutants, chains. He needed to get up. He had to get up. But all he could do was sit, leaning heavily on his knees, and try not to lose consciousness.

Outside, someone was screaming his name. Maybe you. He couldn't hear. Only the hum. Only the heat. Only the blood running down his armor and the glassy glint of his own hand in the dirt.

Blood was still trickling from the stump. Hot, sticky, as if from the very core of the pain. Leo was kneeling, his armor cracked, with armor fragments, dust, as if his body was trying to disappear on its own. The fingers of his left hand trembled, clenching into a powerless fist.

All he could hear was the pulse. Muffled, hollow, pressing. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The world was freezing. Slowly.

The Krang's head was turning toward him. It was taking its time. It was enjoying this moment. The brain-like mass in the center of the exosuit was moving, as if pulsing with pleasure. Metal feet clicked on the floor as the creature took a step forward.

Leo looked up.

Wide. Empty. Shocked. He just stared. He wasn't breathing. His right hand no longer moved. The katana was still in his death grip, but it wasn't his anymore. It was like he wasn't seeing his own blood. His own body.

He was shaking. He was silent. He just — didn't believe it. And then…

The Krang raised a limb — rough, curved, like a giant axe, woven from metal and bioflesh. It flew over his head.

Leo froze.

He didn't move. He couldn't. It was like time had collapsed into a point. And in his head there was only one thought:

"That's it."

The metal flew down.