Fire and ash covered the ridge. Kaelin Vorr could hardly see through the thick haze, but he didn't really need to—he felt what was coming in his bones, through the trembling ground beneath his boots, in the way the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Another wave was heading their way.
The sentry turrets roared to life above him, their sleek barrels spinning with deadly precision as they unleashed coordinated bursts into the fog-filled sky.
Plasma bolts carved through the twilight, cutting down clusters of Omniraith drones that swooped down like metal vultures.
Elora's shield dome flickered overhead like dying northern lights, catching random blasts and chunks of drone wreckage before they could hit the main towers.
The Ashari generators and solar capacitors kept it running—barely. But with pressure building every second, it wouldn't last much longer.
Kaelin dropped to one knee beside a recharging station, checking the power cables that fed one of the turret clusters. A brief flicker, then green. Still working. Thank god.
"What's the situation on the back ridge?" he called into his comm.
"Siege walkers are holding their ground," came the response—an Ashari ground sergeant, voice tight with stress. "Walker group C3 just punched a hole straight through the drone advance. I repeat—C3 cleared the rear column. Mopping up what's left."
Kaelin let himself breathe for a moment. Their strategy was working—for now. The walkers, with those massive cannons mounted on their limbs, had pushed forward just enough to smash through the enemy's rear assault.
That gave the ground troops some breathing room to clean up whatever was left near the city's outer edge.
He turned around, scanning the slope. Ashari soldiers in their adaptive armor pushed through smoking trenches and scattered drone wreckage, rifles cracking out short, controlled bursts. Their shadows stretched long across the broken rocks in the dancing firelight.
Glyph-enhanced grenades lit up the narrow gaps between positions, flash-frying entire drone pods with single blasts.
This wasn't about glory—just pure, grinding survival. Every enemy they took down meant one less machine trying to wipe them off the map.
High above, air drones weaved and spiraled in deadly patterns, creating a moving web of coordinated destruction. Ten thousand automated flyers, packed with arc cannons and mini-missile clusters, patrolled the upper battlefield.
They hunted down Omniraith scouts and tangled with airborne hunter-killers that had started circling toward Elora's higher launch platforms.
Kaelin spotted an enemy drone diving low, weaving between the stalagmite-like ridges, making a beeline for a damaged turret position.
Before it could get close, a squadron of Ashari drones banked hard from above and shredded it mid-flight. Sparks scattered across the rocks like deadly rain.
"Vorr," Commander Sol's voice crackled through the comm. "Front line's holding for now. Pull B-squad back to the third fallback and rotate your eastern flank."
"Got it," Kaelin replied, already signaling two of his fireteams toward the fallback position. "Turrets are synced up, and we're staying ahead on suppression. But they're testing us. Next hit's gonna be harder."
"Let them come," Sol shot back, voice cold as steel. "We've got teeth."
A sudden tremor shook the ridge. Everyone's eyes turned southeast—toward the twisted wreck of the Titan-class walker still looming at the valley's edge, smoking and twitching.
It hadn't budged since the railgun strike, but its shadow stretched across the battlefield like a bad omen.
Even silent, the damn thing never felt truly dead.
Kaelin stared at it, feeling that familiar chill. Something about that machine got under his skin. Maybe its sheer size.
Maybe the eerie quiet. Maybe just the reminder that no matter how hard they'd hit it, the bastard still wouldn't go down.
But his attention snapped back as more Omniraith drones crested the hill—a fresh wave, these ones sleeker, faster, moving like they actually talked to each other.
The turret line picked them up instantly. Plasma fire swept across the upper valley. Two drones went down in spinning spirals of twisted metal, but a third slipped through and almost made it past the line.
Kaelin dropped to one knee and fired a magnetic burst from his rifle. Direct hit—the drone crumpled mid-air and crashed into the ridge beside him.
Behind him, a group of younger Ashari soldiers shouted in surprise, then quickly pulled themselves together. They reset their formation and closed ranks. Good training. Kaelin gave them a grim nod of approval.
They were still breathing.
His comm buzzed again.
"Ground forces holding at all major positions," Sol reported. "Siege walkers stabilizing. Autonomous drones reporting 72% airspace coverage. Keep the pressure on—don't give them a second to regroup."
Kaelin nodded to himself, sweeping his visor across the slope.
"Keep pushing," he muttered. "No breaks for these bastards."
He stepped forward, rifle ready, the mountain groaning around him. The night was far from over. But here, on this bleeding edge of the world, the Ashari line was holding strong.
And until someone told him different—Kaelin Vorr wasn't about to let a single one of those machines take another damn inch.
Meanwhile, in the other part of the battlefield.
Micah stayed near the front of the group, squinting under the flickering emergency light strips that pulsed overhead. He ran his fingers along one of the carved symbols etched into the wall—Ashari markings, but older than anything they used today. Practical, built to last. The kind of engineering meant to outlive the people who made it.
They'd been walking for almost an hour, going deeper beneath Elora's outer perimeter, following a back-door route that only a handful of the Apex Circle even knew existed.
Sera Lin had remembered it—some old Thornkin map someone had trusted her with long ago, though she hadn't said who.
Their group moved tight and quiet. Marella walked behind Micah, her ocean-blue armor dulled with travel dust, visor tucked away to save the filtration system. She carried herself with that same coiled tension—like a wave about to break.
Sera followed a few steps back, her face unreadable in the dim light. The container with the Verdancy seed was strapped to her back, glowing softly with rhythmic pulses that seemed to match her breathing.
The three humanoid prototypes brought up the rear—ASC-2, ASC-5, and ASC-9—moving with an unsettling stillness. No clanking, no whirring joints.
They glided rather than walked, heads constantly scanning every passage junction, every echo, every moment of silence. All were armed, but their weapons stayed hidden beneath morphing arm plating.
Micah glanced back at ASC-9. "You've got neural sync on me, right?"
The drone's eyes pulsed with soft light before it nodded once. "Confirmed. Signal-lock established. Tactical autonomy engaged."
Marella shot them a sideways look. "Still creeps me out when they talk like that."
"They're Ashari-built," Micah replied. "We make obedient ghosts. For now, anyway."
The tunnel curved upward into a tighter climb. Ahead, they reached the service hatch that would put them just beyond the outermost defensive perimeter—behind a rocky outcrop called Veilfang Spire.
On the map, it looked like just another sloped ridge between Elora's cliffs and the war zone, but from here, it would drop them right into the edge of the Omniraith formation—their left flank.
The mission was completely insane. But they didn't have a choice.
They stopped short of the hatch. Micah crouched down, scanning the terrain beyond with his portable sensor. The readouts showed exactly what they'd feared: thick drone traffic sweeping the field in tendril-like patterns that looped across the ridge's edge.
But there was a gap forming—maybe five seconds, probably less—just enough time to slip through without being spotted.
"We need perfect timing on this," Micah said quietly. "Hit the slope and dive for cover. Once we're in, stick to the outcrop shadows and work around their flank."
Sera nodded. "The seed has to be planted in open soil. Center of the valley. If we put it too close to Elora, the forest will overrun your defenses."
"And too close to their core, we'll never make it out," Marella added. She checked her sidearm and the stealth shroud draped over her shoulder. "So we split the difference. Move fast. Use what cover we can find."
Micah turned to ASC-9. "Cover formation?"
"Confirmed. ASC-2 will shield rear approach. ASC-5 and I will suppress forward hostiles. Mission priority: protect Verdancy carrier and escort units."
They lined up at the exit hatch. Micah pressed his hand to the scanner panel—manual override only. The seal hissed open.
Cold mountain air hit them like a slap, whipping at their gear and sending Marella's cloak snapping.
They stepped onto the ridge—and froze.
Out in the dark valley beyond, something new had shown up.
Massive mechanical wings sliced through the air high above the battlefield, casting shifting shadows on the slopes below.
Three shapes—bigger than any standard Omniraith drone, maybe even larger than the siege walkers—soared with terrible grace.
They weren't walkers. They weren't airships.
They were something worse.
Each flying creature was a nightmare of sleek bio-mechanical design—wings like folding steel petals, engines that pulsed with strange inner light. Their bellies split open mid-flight—and suddenly, the sky erupted with movement.
Thousands of drones poured from the carriers like locusts spilling from a broken hive. They filled the sky above the ridge, forming fresh rings of assault units. A second wave. Heavier than the first. Meaner.
Micah ducked back into cover. "They brought backup," he muttered, jaw clenched.
Marella cursed under her breath. "That's not backup. That's an occupation force."
Sera took a slow breath, then closed her eyes. "The earth won't suffer this quietly."
Micah studied the formation above them, then checked his sensor—drone signals overlapping everywhere, almost no gaps left.
"We're running out of airspace," he said. "If we move now, they'll spot us for sure."
Marella looked toward the slope, then at the sky.
Then at the horizon—where Elora's faint shield dome flickered like a struggling heartbeat.
"We don't wait," she said. "We move anyway."
And from the shadowed ridge, under a sky filled with mechanical wings and death, they stepped forward into hell.