The raging flames outside still burned, though the worm-construct was nowhere to be seen. Only scalding-hot air and charred remains littered the ground.
Yet the two felt no relief. After a brief pause at the door, they silently turned sideways in unison.
The ceramite door was too heavy; opening it would take too long. Reaching the doorway, they abandoned the idea of using the main exit.
Amilia stepped first through the shattered bay window, its glass scattered across the ground. After confirming no immediate threats, Zhang Ge maneuvered the Killing Can out.
They hesitated to flee immediately—the xenos wouldn't retreat without cause. Recklessness was forbidden.
Outside, no longer shielded by thick ceramite layers, the Killing Can's rudimentary sensors detected a rectangular object emitting intense heat.
High heat signaled high energy output. Energy couldn't manifest from nothing.
Zhang Ge scrambled to recall where he'd seen this before…
The worm-construct's metallic framework beneath its fleshy exterior.
Before he could warn Amilia, he realized it was too late.
The rectangle shifted. A wet, slithering noise accompanied its motion.
Had the worm-construct merely altered its form, that might've been manageable. But the noise engulfed everything—as if the entire underhive's far side had transformed into a creeping mass of flesh.
Behind them, atop the school building, a tide of white tendrils surged.
Like colossal intertwined worms, the tendrils writhed forward. Their sheer numbers formed an endless white tsunami—rolling from the school's roof to its flanks and beyond, devouring everything in their path.
The cacophony of grinding flesh echoed as if half the underhive had become a living entity crawling toward them.
The worm-construct and the pale humanoid forms now merged into this tide. Its target likely extended far beyond Zhang Ge and Amilia. The swarm's speed seemed to scream: Flee.
But speculating on its intent wasn't their priority.
In unison, they turned and ran.
Just as Zhang Ge attempted to maneuver the Killing Can forward, he realized he'd lost control.
The cockpit hatch detonated with directional explosives. As consciousness snapped back to his biological body, Zhang Ge instinctively gripped his sword hilt. Instead of merging with the war machine, ejection thrusters roared to life beneath his seat.
The catapult system slammed him backward with immense force, launching him in a high arc across the sky. When he looked back, he saw only the Killing Can's metallic silhouette swallowed by the tidal wave.
Amilia intercepted him midair using her jump pack. Sheathing his Ascalon in its scabbard for him, she hauled him toward the massive elevator linking the underhive and lower hive.
The swarm fell behind—for now.
Though fast, this amalgamated horror moved slower than the original worm-construct. The jump pack's speed kept them ahead. Yet both knew this reprieve was temporary. Even if the elevator carried them upward, allowing the swarm to infiltrate the lower hive via the shaft would spell catastrophe.
After sustained flight, they landed before the colossal elevator. The squelching cacophony faded to background noise, replaced by shrill beeps from the reactivated control panel:
Rusted doors creaked open for the first time in millennia, revealing the towering Warlord Titan flanked by a high-ranking Tech-Priest and dozens of elite Vanguard soldiers.
Before Zhang Ge could speak, Amilia addressed the Tech-Priest:
The term triggered immediate action. The Tech-Priest ordered all Vanguard troops out of the elevator and declared:
"We delay. Titan escapes."
He wielded not a staff, but a colossal two-handed firearm larger than a full-grown human. His voice carried ancient weariness.
For millennia, the Tech-Priest had believed his calculations flawless. Enthroned in data-stream pinnacles, he'd overlooked errors buried deep beneath oceans of information. He assumed no underhive threat could endanger a Titan, opting to send minimal escorts to prevent elevator overload—a "prudent" decision.
Now this miscalculation became his first and final unrectifiable error.
Zhang Ge shook his head as the distant tidal roar resurged:
The approaching white tsunami on the horizon finalized the Tech-Priest's understanding.
The elevator's speed was insufficient. Even if it began ascending to the Lower Hive now, and even with the dozens of soldiers buying time, the tidal swarm would still overtake it.
The High-Ranking Tech-Priest remained silent. In that instant, he ran countless simulations—all ending identically.
Yet he still watched as the Vanguard soldiers exited, then moved to restart the elevator. Let my calculations err once more. Just this once.
Cold logic warned him this wasn't error correction, but delusion. The cognitive dissonance grew so severe he ignored Zhang Ge and Amilia entering the elevator.
Moments earlier, Olivière's voice had echoed in Zhang Ge's mind:
"Come to the safe zone."
When Zhang Ge relayed this to Amilia, she hauled him inside the elevator. Her jump pack reignited, propelling them upward until they hovered parallel to the Warlord Titan's dorsal armor.
Before them, the Titan's cockpit access hatch yawned open. At Zhang Ge's waist, Ascalon hummed with resonant urgency.