The two friends returned to the faculty building, moving with caution. Their first order of business was securing the perimeter. They locked the main entrance and methodically checked every room on the first floor, sealing any open windows. They weren't just clearing the building; they were turning it into a safe base.
When they returned to the room where they had killed the mutated lizard, the scene had already changed. Nature, even in its mutated form, was quick to reclaim its own.
Three mutated cockroaches, each as large as a dinner plate, were clustered around the lizard's corpse. Their mandibles clicked as they tore into the scaly flesh. They didn't have the armored bulk of the python, but their sheer size and the way their long antennae whipped the air made Primo's skin crawl.
Primo and Wyn exchanged a silent nod. They slipped into the room and gently locked the door behind them.
The cockroaches sensed them immediately. They stood their ground over the carcass, letting out a series of high-pitched, rattling shrieks. They weren't hunting—they were defending their meal, trying to intimidate the humans into backing away.
Primo didn't hesitate. He raised his makeshift spear, his muscles coiling like a spring. With his Strength now sitting at 13, he felt a level of explosive power he had never known. He lunged and hurled the spear with everything he had.
The spear became a blur of steel and wood. The cockroaches were fast, but they weren't expecting that level of velocity. One barely managed to twitch aside, but the spear caught its flank, shearing off two of its hind left legs.
CLANG.
The spear's steel tip slammed into the cement floor. Instead of burying itself, the force of the impact caused a shower of sparks and sent a sharp vibration back through the air. The spear didn't just stop; it chipped the solid concrete, leaving a visible crater and a web of fine cracks where the tip had landed. Primo stared for a split second, stunned. He was now officially as strong as a world-class athlete.
The remaining two cockroaches didn't flee. Enraged, they hissed and spread their translucent, leathery insect wings. With a frantic, buzzing drone, they took to the air, flying directly at the intruders.
"Heads up!" Wyn roared.
Wyn stepped forward, his axe raised. He swung it in a massive horizontal arc, aiming to swat them out of the sky. But the insects were surprisingly maneuverable mid-air; they dipped and pivoted, the axe whistling harmlessly through the space they had occupied a millisecond before.
One cockroach dived straight for Primo's face. He dropped into a low crouch, feeling the gust of wind from its wings as it zoomed over his head.
With his spear clattering against the cement, Primo didn't waste a second. He reached for his belt and gripped the handle of one of the kitchen knives. He stood his ground, centering his weight as the cockroach that had dived at him banked around and landed on top of a nearby desk. It stood tall, its antennae twitching wildly as it hissed and shrieked at him.
Seeing how easily the pests dodged his axe, Wyn made a split-second decision. He dropped the axe to the floor with a dull thud. He whipped out the hand-cleaver. It lacked the reach of the axe, but it was light and fast—perfect for swiping at airborne targets.
The two cockroaches didn't wait. They blurred into motion, their wings buzzing like chainsaws as they lunged again. Primo and Wyn slashed at the air, their blades whistling, but the insects were irritatingly agile. They used the desks and chairs as obstacles, weaving through the furniture with frustrating precision.
While Primo was focused on the two flyers in front of him, the third cockroach—the one he had injured earlier—saw its opening. Despite its broken legs, it had crawled silently along the baseboards. It gathered its strength and launched itself from the floor, flying straight at Primo's exposed back.
But Primo wasn't just relying on his eyes.
Through the chaos of the buzzing wings in front of him, his Great Ear picked up a different frequency—the uneven, desperate flutter of a damaged wing coming from behind.
Without looking, Primo ducked. The injured roach zoomed through the space where his head had been a millisecond before. As it sailed over him, Primo spun on his heel. He didn't let it get away this time.
The cockroach landed clumsily on a desk, trying to find its footing with its remaining legs. Primo was on it instantly. He lunged forward, the kitchen knife a silver streak in the air.
STAB.
The blade pierced through the insect's hard chitinous back, pinning it firmly into the wooden surface of the desk.
The knife was buried deep, but the mutated cockroach was far from finished. Its legs continued to twitch violently, and it let out a wet, clicking hiss—a testament to the terrifying tenacity of the insect species.
Before Primo could deliver a finishing blow, the second cockroach, seeing its kin pinned, shrieked in fury and dived at his face. Primo was forced to let go of the embedded knife to throw himself out of the way. Rolling across the floor, he came up on one knee and whipped the second knife from his belt, his eyes locked on the remaining flyers.
"Wyn! Back to back!" Primo barked.
The two friends slammed their shoulders together in the center of the room. Wyn held the hand-cleaver low, while Primo gripped his knife, their eyes scanning the air for the two remaining threats. The cockroaches circled them like vultures, their wings a deafening, rhythmic drone that echoed off the cement walls.
With a final, piercing shriek, the insects attacked simultaneously from opposite sides.
"Duck," Primo whispered, loud enough only for Wyn.
As the cockroaches closed the distance, Primo initiated a powerful horizontal swing. As expected, his target sensed the blade and dipped downward to dodge it. But Primo didn't stop the momentum. Instead of a single strike, he pivoted his entire body, continuing the slash in a full, circular motion.
Wyn dropped to the floor as if the floor had disappeared.
The cockroach that had been diving for Wyn's head was caught completely by surprise. It had been focused on the crouching varsity player and didn't see the silver arc of Primo's follow-through coming from behind.
SHUCK.
The knife sliced through the insect's midsection with the ease of a hot wire through wax. The cockroach was sheared in half mid-air. A spray of thick, foul-smelling yellow fluids showered down on them, but neither boy flinched. They kept their eyes peeled, looking for the last one.