The whole mountain felt like it was breathing fire and metal.
Elora's first line of defense had turned into complete chaos—all motion and computer code, with engines growling somewhere deep in the stone while the city showed its fangs.
Those Ashari turrets kept firing in perfect rhythm, shooting beams of super-charged rounds that cut right through the night. Every blast lit up that thick mist hanging over the valley, giving everyone quick glimpses of the Omniraith swarm crawling up the ridge like some nightmare.
Up above, the sky kept switching between angry red and that deep blue color. The shield dome—they'd gotten it working again after that railgun blast—it half curved over the mountain like a second sky, catching the blue glow from Ashari plasma fire mixing with the nasty green light from those Omniraith targeting drones.
That massive Titan walker was still there, half-buried from when the railgun nailed it directly. The thing was basically paralyzed at the valley's edge. Its legs kept twitching, with burnt metal plates letting off steam in the cold air, but somehow it hadn't toppled over. Just kept watching everything.
Deep inside the mountain, you could hear the defensive systems humming—almost like they were alive, pulsing through the walls like a heartbeat.
The whole city had switched into war mode. Steel backing up stone everywhere. Computer code running through every connection.
Elora had become exactly what they'd built it to be—a fortress that wouldn't quit.
Micah Satya was standing on this cold observation deck just outside the southern launch area, watching his breath fog up while formations of Ashari drones spiraled into the night like angry metal wasps.
He tracked their movements—organic-looking, always shifting, always adapting. The Hollow gave off this faint pulse in the back of his head. Not words this time. Not pain either. Just... knowing. Like something in those enemies recognized something in him.
"They see me," he said quietly to himself. "And they're hesitating."
Behind him, the communications people were calling out targeting updates on every channel. One of them gave a grim nod toward the ridge. "Another wave's coming. They're reconfiguring on the fly."
Deeper in the bunker, Lio Venn was hunched over three stacked data screens, eyes jumping between pulse readings and terrain maps.
The Ashari drone swarm was holding its own, but those Omniraith were adapting way faster than anyone expected. Lio's hands moved across the controls like he was playing some deadly piano, manually overriding the software's dodge patterns and forcing new route calculations.
"They're turning our own defenses against us," he said over the tactical line, voice tight. "They've stolen neural data from our outer sensors. Using our logic systems to predict what we'll do next."
A junior tech a few feet away cursed and wiped sweat off his console. Lio didn't even notice. He was too locked in, too focused on the code war happening beneath the mountain's surface.
He shifted power from a backup drone pod to strengthen the eastern side. Red warning lights flickered overhead.
Over on the western section, Kaelin Vorr stood with a forward response team next to a dormant siege walker. The powered armor on his shoulders was steaming in the cold, rifle locked to his back.
He stared out at that flickering dome and the distant silhouette of the Titan, sitting motionless in the darkness like some sleeping god of war.
"I don't like how quiet they're being," he muttered.
Lio's voice crackled through the radio, faint but steady: "That's what predators do right before they attack. They wait."
Kaelin squinted and watched a fresh wave of smaller drones sliding up through a collapsed ice channel—hundreds of them. Fast and silent.
No battle horns. No war cries. Just machine hunger.
In the city's core levels, Commander Sol stood surrounded by glowing displays, watching the big-picture tactical readouts shift and change.
His hands were clasped behind his back, but his jaw had locked into something immovable. He scanned feedback from every section—the railgun cooling down, the recharge cycle counting forward, the shield dome straining under pressure.
He knew what was coming. He'd always known.
His voice cut through the communication network: "Hold all positions. Rotate units in shifts. You keep that line until sunrise."
The mountain rumbled softly—either from the siege guns still firing below or something much worse moving around in the dark.
Down in the command shelter near where they'd moved the refugees, an Ashari mother held her daughter tight. The little girl asked if the mountain would break. Her mother answered with iron in her voice.
"No. Mountains don't fall. We made sure of that."
And out there, under that flickering shield, the line held.
For now, anyway.
The observation room tucked behind Elora's inner defense wall felt colder than it should have. Not temperature-wise—just the whole atmosphere. Sterile, quiet, floating above all the battle chaos like a bubble of tension and frustration.
Sera Lin stood at the big curved window that wrapped around the outer wall like the lid of some giant eye.
From up here, you could see most of the upper valley through the faint shimmer of the city's shield. On the horizon, that burnt husk of the Titan walker was still stuck halfway in the stone, smoke drifting up from its joints. Past it, more black shapes were approaching—more drones, more death.
"They send waves not because they're afraid of losing," Sera said softly, "but because they know we value life differently than they do."
Her hands rested calmly behind her back, but her eyes never left the battlefield. Nearby, the container holding the Verdancy seed gave off a faint pulse from its corner spot. She'd asked to keep it close.
Technically, she was still under Elora's protection, not cleared for field work. Technically, she'd followed orders. For now.
Across the room, Captain Marella Seaborn stood beside the tactical display board, gripping the edge so hard her knuckles had gone white. Her water suit hung on her like heavy armor without any ocean pressure to help her move.
Everything about how she stood screamed contained energy—like a bowstring pulled back and never released.
She watched the battle play out across multiple screens. The Ashari turrets had come back online and were mowing down wave after wave of Omniraith scouts. The siege walkers were holding their ground. But it wouldn't last.
"Three sectors breached in the last hour," Marella said, mostly talking to herself. "They're adapting faster than our security systems can keep up."
Thalrex, sitting further back at a secure communication station, barely glanced up from his readouts. "The alliance agreed your presence would remain behind the lines. You are not Elora soldiers."
Marella's head tilted slightly. "And Elora isn't the only battlefield," she said.
Sera turned away from the window, her expression impossible to read. "I understand the cost of mistakes, Advisor," she said. "But there are things that need to be done... personally."
Thalrex's eyes flicked toward the Verdancy container, then back to the battlefield projections. He didn't argue—but he didn't agree either. His silence meant he disapproved.
The lights dimmed as another barrage echoed through the mountain. Another tremor. The shield flickered slightly. Sera and Marella didn't budge. Their eyes met for just a second. That was enough.
Marella spoke first. Quiet and purposeful.
"The western ridge," she said. "Low profile terrain. Less drone coverage since the Titan went down. If we move during shift change, they won't spot us."
Sera nodded once. "The seed can't just be thrown. It has to be placed properly."
They didn't say anything else. The decision was already made.
Outside the window, war raged on. Inside, two figures stood still as stone, already planning their path through fire.
And in the shadows next to them, Verdancy pulsed—waiting.
The hallway lights flickered as Micah made his way through the lower service level under the western wall, following the faint sound of soft footsteps and half-lit access panels.
He knew where they were headed. Knew it because he could feel it. The Hollow had gone quiet again—not retreating, just paying close attention. Watching.
He found Sera Lin and Marella waiting by an emergency exit near the maintenance armory. Neither said anything when he walked up. They didn't need to.
"I'm coming with you," Micah said. "Don't waste time arguing."
Marella's eyes narrowed, but it wasn't distrust. She was calculating. She knew he wouldn't back down. "You were supposed to stay in the back lines."
Micah shrugged. "So were you."
Sera turned to look at him, her expression unreadable in the dim light. She studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "The earth knows your name," she said. "You might yet become part of this soil."
Before anyone could respond, the sound of mechanical footsteps echoed down the hall. Not heavy like the walkers—precise and calculated.
Dr. Eland Voss appeared from the shadowed intersection, with three of his new prototype humanoid drones flanking him.
They moved like no other machines Micah had ever seen—sleek, human-shaped, their surfaces shifting slightly like liquid metal under thin armor plating. Eyes glowed soft white. Weapons stored internally. Elegant and deadly.
"You're not going alone," Voss said flatly. "Three of the ASCENDANTS units are ready for combat. They'll follow your commands."
Micah frowned. "You're letting them off their leash?"
"They're not just weapons," Voss replied. "They can think for themselves. And they're programmed to respond to your signal. Call it... a field test."
One of the drones stepped forward and gave a short bow—too precise to be human, but too graceful to be purely mechanical. ASC-9, etched in Ashari symbols across its shoulder.
Sera Lin looked at Voss. "You trust these machines?"
"I trust their programming," he said. "And their mission lines up with ours: protect Elora, prevent total collapse. You'll have protection."
Micah looked between the others, then toward the distant glow beyond the shield. Out in the valley, the Omniraith were moving again—drone formations in weird patterns, testing for weak spots.
"We plant the Verdancy," Marella said, more to herself now. "In the western area. Force them to break up their advance."
Micah nodded. "And if they see us?"
"Then we make it count," she said, strapping a compact plasma cutter to her side.
Voss handed Micah a data spike—thin, black, humming faintly. "If you reach a node hub, stick this in. It'll mess up their local drone logic."
"Side mission," Micah muttered. "Of course."
They stood quiet for another moment. No goodbyes. No inspiring speeches.
The exit gate hissed open, and cold night wind swept in, biting at their skin and armor. Sera stepped through first. Marella followed, silent as always. The ASCENDANT drones moved with uncanny grace behind them.
Micah was the last one through.
The gate sealed shut behind them.
Into the fire they went.