I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities
Chapter 87 - 87: Ch 86. Clone and Fusion

The guards of Tartarus were trained to face monsters, maniacs, and megalomaniacs—but nothing could have prepared them for the Sentinels.

They came through the breach like living nightmares—biological titans bred for destruction. Their skin rippled with thick, unnatural muscle, and patches of exposed brain matter pulsed atop their heads, glowing faintly with neural power.

Each one radiated an oppressive aura—Overlord-class creatures, strong enough to wrestle a tank apart with their bare hands.

Guards opened fire with advanced kinetic rifles, pulse rounds hammering against the Sentinels' bodies—but it barely slowed them.

They shrugged off bullets like raindrops.

And then they reached the line.

What followed was carnage.

With a primal roar, the Sentinels tore through the formation. Arms like battering rams smashed aside guards. Teeth and claws ripped through armor like paper. Cries of pain filled the air, echoed by the grinding of bone and metal.

Tartarus' elite defenders fell one by one—brave but utterly outmatched.

But they held the line. Somehow.

Because deep within the facility, fail-safes were activating.

One of them—the most dangerous—was being prepared.

"Get the Judicator Cannon online! We need ten seconds!"

The guards fought like dying men possessed, stalling the Sentinels as the Judicator Cannon was rolled forward on a grey-platform.

The weapon, massive and angular, pulsed with internal power—its core glowing with swirling light particles gathering at its heart.

Sapar watched from behind the battle lines, cloaked as he ordered the sentinels to attack the Cannon.

But it was already too late.

BOOM.

A beam of pure annihilation burst from the cannon's core, cutting across the battlefield. Where it struck, Sentinels vanished—completely erased, not even ash left behind.

Their regenerative power meant nothing—not when destruction reached the cellular level.

The guards whooped in raw triumph.

But it wasn't over.

The Judicator Cannon, began its cooldown cycle, hissing with steam as its power core dimmed.

"We've got one shot left… in five minutes," a technician barked.

Sapar raised a hand.

The Sentinels, still roaring and smashing through guards, turned and rushed the cannon.

"Protect the Judicator!"

But the guards didn't panic.

Because they had stalled long enough.

---

A section of the roof ruptured, and a figure descended like thunder, landing between the guards and the incoming Sentinels.

He stood tall, bald-headed, with a long scar etched across his face like a blade's memory. His black uniform bore silver trim and a crimson insignia—the mark of the Tartarus Warden.

"The first thing I see when I return is absolute chaos" the warden will then face Sarpa.

"You're quite brave to attack my prison,"

"But that's fine. We've got a cell ready for fools like you."

His lips curled into a wicked smile.

"And let's just say... what you'll experience will be shocking."

Sapar didn't reply. His face remained hidden beneath the hood, but his stillness spoke volumes.

He had been waiting for this.

With a subtle gesture, he issued a silent command.

And the battlefield shifted.

The remaining Sentinels stopped moving and began to merge. Their flesh liquefied and reformed, bones cracked and twisted, and a glowing core began to beat at the center of the abomination.

The fusion was grotesque—unstable energy radiated from the beast as it roared, a deep sound that shook the prison's foundations.

The Warden's eyes narrowed.

"...Ascendant-class power," he murmured.

As an Ascendant himself, he could feel it—raw, burning potential, far beyond the standard Sentinels.

Sapar had been holding this one back.

But now that the warden had returned he would use everything at his disposal to hold him back.

****

The fused Sentinel charged, a juggernaut of muscle and psychic rage, its bellow shaking the foundations of Tartarus. Sarpa, hooded and silent, took this chance to slip away, vanishing into the smoke and chaos with calculated precision.

"Stop right there!" the Warden roared—but it was too late.

A colossal fist smashed into his face, sending his body flying into the reinforced wall with a bone-crunching crack. Dust clouded the air.

But when the debris settled—it wasn't the Warden embedded in the crater.

It was a guard.

The fused Sentinel's primitive mind stalled, confused. It had struck the Warden. It had felt the power.

Then—

WHAM!

The real Warden appeared behind it, fist glowing with power, and delivered a devastating blow to the creature's back.

The Sentinel flinched—but only for a second. With unnatural speed, it spun, grabbed the Warden's arm, and slammed him into the ground like a ragdoll.

The shockwave rippled through the prison floor.

But once again—the body it smashed into pulp... was just a guard.

The fused Sentinel's limited intellect couldn't comprehend what was happening.

And that was the point.

---

Tartarus had only one Ascendant in charge for a reason.

It was because of the Warden's ability "Legion Echo."

It allowed him to create perfect combat clones of himself—each capable of mimicking his power, strength, and reflexes.

These weren't simple illusions; they could fight, bleed, and die. But their true strength lay in their purpose.

"One guard falls? Ten take their place."

They could simulate human behavior, speak like individuals, joke, laugh—but when the Warden activated them in combat, they became machines of war.

A one-man army forged from a single soul.

---

The fused Sentinel roared and charged again, tearing through clone after clone, ripping limbs and crushing skulls, but they kept coming.

Dozens. Hundreds.

Some tried to restrain it, others attacked from range. But the creature's Ascendant-tier strength was too much—no single clone could survive a full second of its fury.

And yet... they didn't stop.

Then the Warden raised a hand—his face calm, calculating.

"Phase Two."

Several clones surged forward, grabbing the Sentinel's limbs—and then, detonated.

Explosions rocked the battlefield, throwing smoke and debris in all directions. When it cleared, the Sentinel remained standing—burned and scarred, but alive.

"Still not enough," the Warden muttered.

Suddenly, the ground quaked.

New clones arrived—but these weren't like the others.

They were giant clones, twice the Warden's size, muscles bulging, faces blank. These hulking constructs lacked finesse or intelligence, but what they had was raw, brutal strength.

THOOM!

THOOM!

THOOM!

They charged and tackled the Sentinel, slamming it into the far wall. For the first time—it was pushed back.

But the beast retaliated, letting out a sonic scream that cracked walls and made the giant clones falter, their forms destabilizing.

"I need to end this. Now," the Warden thought grimly.

He couldn't split focus—chasing Sarpa now would weaken the clones, and the fused Sentinel would tear through Tartarus unchecked.

So he made his decision.

"Crush the beast. Find the villain later."

With a breath, the Warden summoned more giant clones—waves of them—charging into the Sentinel. The ground shook with each clash, a battle of titans within a fortress already collapsing under its own chaos.

And the Warden himself?

He leapt into the air, eyes locked on the Sentinel.

"Let's see if you can handle the original."

As the clones swarmed below, the Warden dove like a meteor—fist first, ready to strike the core of the abomination and end the fight before Sarpa's plan could reach its end.

Time was ticking.