The battlefield was a blur of smoke, fire, and the relentless advance of Titanium Army drones. Croco strolled forward, the grin on his face as wide as the chaos around him. Every shot from the enemy barely phased him; his over-confidence healed him as fast as they could chip at him. Even under constant fire, his health slowly knit itself back together, feeding the audacity that made him dangerous.

  “Come on, you tin cans! Hit me harder!” he shouted, cocking his crossbow. The projectile hissed through the air and embedded itself in a walker’s chassis, splintering metal with precision. He wasn’t subtle—he didn’t need to be. Bullets and energy bolts bounced off the makeshift homemade shield, which he hoisted with casual ease, stepping right into the line of fire while his allies took aim.

  A squad of titanium infantry surged toward the Blackout Strikeforce. Croco spun a flamarang from his wrist, the flaming disc arcing in a perfect curve, igniting targets in its path and leaving scorched trails across the battlefield. He laughed as the enemies staggered from burning wounds. “Sport mode, baby!” With a press of a button, his boots surged, movement doubling in speed, and he barreled into the enemy ranks like a living battering ram.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Close combat? No problem. Croco’s knuckle dusters hammered through armor plating, and any stray drone foolish enough to get near felt the brutal force of his swings. Feeling the adrenaline surge, he downed a VB swig, augmenting his speed and damage while boosting his temporary over-health. It wasn’t just brute force—it was chaos embodied.

  Then came the heavy hitters: a Titanium Behemoth lumbering forward, shaking the ground with every step. Croco crouched, smirk widening. “Let’s turn up the heat,” he muttered, detonating Australian Summer. Flames radiated outward in a 10-meter radius, searing enemies while the scorched air crackled with energy. Drones fell back, walkers staggered, and Croco simply laughed, his confidence unshaken by the chaos around him.

  Even as the battlefield burned, Croco was untouchable—not because he was careful, but because he refused to be cautious. His over-confidence carried the team through impossible odds, a living shield and a torch of destruction in one chaotic, unstoppable form.