The black waters off the western coastline boiled violently. Massive hulls of rotting timber and rusted iron breached the surface of the ocean, dragging seaweed and crushed coral up from the deep trenches.
A corrupted armada materialized through the crashing waves, displaying tattered sails woven from decaying biological matter. The game engine had registered the expanding borders of the Red Spiral and spawned a naval catastrophe to balance the server.
Torix stood on the edge of the reinforced concrete pier and watched the decaying fleet align their broadsides.
He adjusted his grip on the four barbed spears held in his upper arms. His six crimson eyes tracked the erratic movements of the anomaly ships bobbing against the violent current.
Torix clicked his mandibles. "The system targets the newly established trade routes. They intend to sever our oceanic supply lines."
