’It’s them!’ Clayton was overjoyed.
His Territorial Sentience spiked, and it was a familiar pulse.
It was the Spore Plague Lord, his first Luminous Seed subordinate. It was 2 kilometers northeast, its fungal core radiating loyalty.
Clayton didn’t hesitate. He burst into a sprint, Shedskin blurring, dodging spore clouds from the Plague Sovereign’s distant wrath.
In a shattered plaza, he finally found him. There, the Plague Lord loomed, 15 meters, Toxic Spore Shroud cloaking, Mycotic Tendrils coiled, its Luminous Seed nexus glowing.
Surrounding it, his 19 minions were there; 8 Thorn Hounds, all at 3 meters and with goring spikes; 6 Howl Shriekers, all at 2 meters with their sonic maws; 4 Ash Sprites, 1 meter each with flaming wisps; and then 1 Spore Drifter, towering at 5 meters with his spore veil.
Even in his absence, the Plague Lord took care of the others and protected them. Clayton felt something warm in his heart at the sight of them.
They all growled, eyes locked on him, filled with recognition and relief.
They recognized their king, Aphid Network reigniting, Symbiotic Command surging through Shedskin’s divine conduit.
[Aphid Network Restored: Spore Plague Lord (Luminous Seed), 19 Initiate Ember Minions]
[Minions Total: 1 Luminous Seed (Spore Plague Lord), 1 Luminous Seed (Spore Husk), 1 Luminous Seed (Ashbloom Stalker), 2 Initiate Ember (Thorn Strays), 2 Initiate Ember (Sporelings), 8 Initiate Ember (Thorn Hounds), 6 Initiate Ember (Howl Shriekers), 4 Initiate Ember (Ash Sprites), 1 Initiate Ember (Spore Drifter)]
[Aspect Strain: Moderate]
’Perfect!’ He grinned.
"Missed me, you fungal freaks?" Clayton laughed, Regalia spinning, Plague Lord’s tendrils saluting. "Let’s hunt bigger game".
With that single encounter, his Aphid Network swelled again, not just restored. He now had 23 minions, and plus the Plague Lord, he now had 3 Luminous Seed rank Behemorphs in his army!
Crazy thing was he was not even Luminous Seed yet.
The Plague Sovereign’s spore storms roared, dozens of kilometers south, nearing Ironhold-3, its Reality-warp spores twisting ruins, Mycoglyphs screaming, Earthcore Nexus trembling.
Clayton’s hunt was working, Genesis Embers at 12, but Ironhold-3’s fate loomed, a clash to shake the Expanse.
Ironhold-3, Command Spire, 40 Kilometers South.
Commander Vrenna stood in Ironhold-3’s command spire, holo-screen flickering, Null Scion generators humming weakly.
The Ironhold base was already in the final process of evacuation.
Vex, leg braced, arm slung, faced her with Drayce, Rhea, and Sylas, their Null Blades bloodied, Disruptors dead.
Ironhold-3’s evacuees- 250 Ironblood in total, crowded the bay alongside 20 drones, dissent boiling. Bastion-7’s fungal crater haunted them still, the brutal fate that befell that Ironblood stronghold vivid in their minds, the Plague Sovereign’s spore storms 10 kilometers out.
"Evacuate to Ironhold-4!" Drayce roared, echoing Commander Vrenna’s orders, Furnace Core flaring, eyes wild. "We can’t hold this!"
He may not support his Commander’s decision this time, but he didn’t show it. He put on the image of a model soldier, but not everyone was like him.
Not everyone was content with following orders all the time. Not every soldier, and not in the age of the Genesis Protocols.
"Stay and fight!" Rhea countered, voice steel as she stared at Drayce, Null Lance gripped. "Scions can counter it!"
That was it... the fuse.
Vrenna’s mechanical arm slammed the console, silencing them. She didn’t say what they expected to hear though, she said something else entirely; something wild, reckless, and unbecoming of a Commander.
"F*ck it!" She growled. "Ironhold-3 is our heart. We hold or die".
That fuse was all she needed, the push, and Commander Vrenna suddenly decided to throw logic out of the window, embracing her wild instincts.
She was still haunted by the damage dealt to Bastion-7, her old base.
She didn’t want the same fate to befall Ironhold-3.
And since the other Commander was so quiet about the decision-making, she would do it for him and take matters into her own hands.
And that was why she changed her mind finally, embracing the decision to hold their ground and fight to the death.
That decision didn’t sit well with everybody though.
Sylas, goggles fogged, muttered. "Run like Bastion-7? Or die like fools?"
There was silence for a few seconds, then he added. "What if it comes after us to Ironhold-4?"
Murmurs spread, Ironblood splitting; half packing drones, half arming Null Lances. Seeing some still intent on evacuating, Vrenna’s zeal cracked, but she didn’t show it, her cold eyes darting to the holo-screen, spore clouds closing in.
But... there was something different about the footage in the holo-screen.
Commander Vrenna’s eyes widened, but it was too late.
No one saw it coming, but somehow, the Plague Sovereign managed to obliterate the kilometers of distance between it and here, arriving abruptly, its 50-meter fungal titan breaching Ironhold-3’s walls.
Sporebloom Maws devoured steel, Reality-Warp Spores twisting time, drones melting into fungal sludge.
Tendrils pierced the spire, Mycotic Regalia shrouding the bay, Earthcore Nexus screaming.
Commander Vrenna froze, Vex drawing her Null Blade, Drayce’s Furnace Core igniting, Rhea’s Lance humming, Sylas stumbling, Ironblood’s fate hanging.
They once had a choice, but they used the time to argue instead of taking action. That was a mistake.
And now, the Plague Sovereign took the option of choice from them.
The Plague Sovereign made the choice for them.
Now, they had no choice but to fight to the death.
The command spire of Ironhold-3 shuddered, steel walls buckling under the Plague Sovereign’s sudden assault, a 57-meter fungal titan of cosmic wrath.
It was frightening. Staring at it felt like staring at a being straight out of your worst nightmare.
Its bioluminescent nexus pulsed, Mycotic Regalia spore shroud warping reality, tendrils thick as spires tipped with Sporebloom Maws devouring drones, Reality-Warp Spores twisting time into stuttering nightmares.
The Verdant Warden rank Behemorph breached the fortress’s perimeter, Earthcore Nexus screaming, catching the Ironblood Remnants off-guard amidst their dissent.
Commander Vrenna’s orders, ’Hold or die!’ clashed with the plea of others to evac to Ironhold-4, Drayce and Rhea’s call to fight, and Sylas’s mutinous doubt.
Ironhold-3’s Commander? The middle-aged man had been silent since, never voicing his opinion as the other leaders bickered among themselves.
Now, 140 Ironblood warriors, 15 Null Scions, and 10 drones faced annihilation, their Null Blades and Disruptors useless against the Plague Sovereign’s fury and will for destruction.
They stared death straight in the face.
No way out. No escape.