Chapter 316: The Interception
"Confirmed."
The Grinning Mask stepped forward, his voice vibrating with a manic,
high-frequency excitement.
"The 'Blue Variable' left zero Fail-Safes. Our scouts have probed the sector for
seven full cycles. Even when the human girl—the one possessing the residual
Od—was targeted, the slime failed to manifest. Its signature has been
completely purged from the atmosphere."
"The Night Watchmen are operating with standard, low-tier logic. No unidentified
artifacts have surfaced."
"I am statistically certain: the entity has achieved permanent extraction."
Umbra gave a slow, ominous nod.
"Then the harvest commences."
"Tonight, we liquidate every human soul within the city limits."
"ACCEPTED!"
Thirty thousand Anomalies shrieked in a dissonant, bone-chilling unison. They
had been suppressed by the slime's passive pressure for too long. Now, the
dampeners were off. The hunting season was open.
"MARCH!" Umbra commanded.
Like a tide of sentient filth, the thirty thousand units spilled from the
factory gates. They possessed a singular objective: the total processing of the
human species in this coordinate.
Federal Base. Subterranean Sector.
The gargantuan bunker was a hive of controlled panic. Over a hundred thousand
civilians were currently consolidated within the reinforced walls—roughly a
third of the city's remaining population. The rest were still in transit, moving
through the streets under the shadow of death.
The Night Watchmen had established a three-layer defensive perimeter around the
base. Each layer was manned by at least thirty combat units. But every officer
in the command center knew the data: these walls were made of paper against a
full-scale Planar Breach.
"Report! The Western Transit Column has been intercepted!" "Casualty count?"
"Three Watchmen liquidated. Twelve civilians terminated. Seven missing
variables!" "The Eastern Column is also under assault! Five Watchmen down!
Twenty-one civilians processed!"
A barrage of failure-reports flooded the screens. Minister Kenji stood before
the display, his complexion a shade of terminal grey.
The Anomalies had ceased their probing. They were no longer masking their
intent. This was a direct, high-intensity assault.
"Minister, our personnel density is insufficient," Warden Silas reported, his
voice heavy with the weight of the casualties. "The liquidation rate of our
defenders is exceeding our recruitment projections."
"If this frequency persists, our outer perimeter will undergo total structural
collapse within three hours. The bunker will be exposed."
Kenji balled his fists until the leather of his gloves creaked. The logic was
absolute. Human strength had hit its ceiling.
"Recall all units to the core," Kenji ordered, his final decision finalized.
"Abandon the outer sectors. Concentrate all Od into the bunker's immediate
defense."
"Even if we only buy a single hour... we hold."
"AS COMMANDED!"
The directive was broadcasted. Every surviving Night Watchman on the surface
began a tactical retreat toward the base.
But then, the high-tier alarms shrieked.
A siren of a frequency never before heard in the city ripped through the base.
"MASSIVE ANOMALY SIGNATURE DETECTED!" "Quantity... exceeding ten thousand
units!" "Tiers... ranging from Tier 1 to Tier 3!" "They are converging on the
primary bunker entrance!" "Projected ETA: Ten minutes!"
In the command center, the atmosphere hit absolute zero.
Thirty thousand horrors. Multiple Tier 3 Apex units. This was a scale of
conflict the human species had never archived.
"This is... the Grand Liquidation," Kenji whispered.
The Anomalies intended to process the city's entire population in a single
meal-cycle.
"Notify the defenders," Kenji's voice turned preternaturally calm. "Prepare for
the terminal engagement."
"Inform them: Behind them are one hundred thousand souls—the last embers of our
civilization."
"There is no retreat. We anchor here, or we go into the Void together."
"SIR!"
The last two hundred defenders of humanity took their positions. One hundred and
thirty-seven elite veterans gathered from across the Federation, joined by
sixty-three local units. Two hundred hearts against thirty thousand nightmares.
They stood in a silent line at the bunker's maw, checking their armaments. No
one spoke. No one flinched. They were the wall.
Sora sat in the back of a reinforced transit vehicle, watching the dead city
through the reinforced glass.
The streets were a void. Every shop was a tomb. Every light was extinguished.
The metropolis had become a sprawling graveyard before the first blade was even
drawn.
Chief Lyra Frost sat beside her, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.
"Chief Frost," Sora whispered.
"Mmh?"
"If... if I am liquidated before Bochi returns... what is the projected
outcome?"
Lyra was silent for three seconds. "The data is unclear. But if you terminate,
the logic for human persistence likely terminates with you. We would be the
generation that archived the end of the species."
Sora felt the "Pressure-Debuff" of that realization. It was the first time she
truly understood the value of her own life-force.
"Therefore... I must not fail."
"Correct. You are the win-condition. Even if every other unit is processed, you
must remain active."
Just then, the driver slammed on the brakes.
SCREEEEE!
The vehicle skidded to a halt. Lyra was out of the door before the tires stopped
smoking.
Standing in the center of the thoroughfare was a tall silhouette draped in a
black cloak.
Umbra.
"Federal Chief. Lyra Frost." Umbra's voice was a low-frequency vibration that
rattled the car's windows. "I have archived your data. You are a formidable
unit."
Lyra didn't reply, her eyes locked on the Anomaly's every twitch.
"Do not escalate your tension," Umbra said, raising a pale hand. "I have not
manifested here for a liquidation. I have come to negotiate."
"Negotiate?" Lyra sneered, her sword humming with a cold light. "Since when do
the Scourge and the Cattle share a dialogue?"
"Since the variables changed," Umbra nodded. "Unless a miracle manifests within
the next ten minutes, every human in this sector will be torn and consumed. The
Tide is inevitable."
"However... if you surrender the girl—the one carrying the 'Residual Od'—I shall
intervene. I will provide a covert defense for the bunker. I will ensure your
hundred thousand 'pests' survive this cycle."
"One life for a hundred thousand. It is a statistically superior trade, is it
not?"
Lyra's gaze turned into two shards of ice. "You project that I would accept such
a contract?"
"You are the Chief. Your directive is the protection of the species. The choice
is the height of rationality."
Lyra went silent. Logically, Umbra was correct. The survival of the many
outweighed the life of the one.
But...
"I decline," Lyra stated. Her voice was like iron striking stone. "If humanity
requires a miracle to persist, then I shall manifest the miracle myself."
Hardly had she spoken when several other voices echoed from the shadows.
"Umbra... your calculation was quite greedy, wasn't it?"
The Grinning Mask stepped from the gloom, his ceramic face reflecting the amber
streetlights. "Trying to secure the 'God-Fragment' for yourself? Planning to
leave the rest of us to face the slime's wrath alone while you evolve?"
The Crimson-Dress Child appeared on a nearby rooftop, her legs dangling over the
edge. "Good thing we maintained a backup surveillance on you, Umbra. Your
'Negotiation' was a logic error."
The Fog of a Thousand Faces coalesced in the air, thousands of mouths speaking
in a terrifying chorus. The Shrouded One lurked at the rear, his bandages
shivering as he checked for an escape route.
The remaining two Tier 3s manifested shortly after, sealing the street.
Seven Tier 3 Anomalies. Each one a planetary-tier threat. The combined pressure
of their presence turned the air into a viscous, unbreathable sludge.
Umbra showed zero reaction to the arrival of his peers. He simply kept his focus
on Lyra Frost.
"Chief Frost. My offer remains active. But the window of opportunity is
closing."
☆☆☆
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