Chapter 97: Being Slung Down

A high-pitched shriek tore through the purple storm clouds above the outer bay, vibrating through the wet sand with bone-jarring violence.

High above the receding tideline, an arc of brilliant scarlet and gold fire plummeted out of the offshore storm, tumbling uncontrollably toward the exposed mudflats.

The supersonic streak slammed into the seabed six hundred yards west of Breakwater Post Four, gouging a massive trench through the wet silt and sending tons of gravel into the air.

A concussive shockwave of vaporized brine and scorched stone washed over the seawall, forcing Fin and Ruby to brace their boots against the stinging spray.

"That impact came directly from the offshore capital vanguard," Ruby shouted over the roar of the wind, her knuckles tightening around the shaft of her spear.

Through the drifting smoke, the golden spiritual pressure that once dominated metropolitan parade avenues flickered weakly, guttering like an abandoned candle in a storm.

Fin dropped from the parapet onto the mud, his boots sinking barely an inch into the sludge thanks to Depth Hydro-Locomotion.

"Maya, alert the medical recovery unit at once," Fin ordered, sprinting across the cratered expanse while scanning the smoke for secondary threats.

"Recovery team is already deploying through Trench Seven," Maya’s voice crackled through the comm-link, "they have two trauma surgeons and a portable plasma stabilizer staged."

Reaching the rim of the steaming impact crater, Fin slid down the muddy incline, his balanced hatchet resting ready in his dominant hand.

Lying half-submerged in boiling brackish foam was Saura, the Zenith, the celebrated S-rank champion whose banner had flown over provincial triumphs for a decade.

Her ornate golden auric mail was fractured into spiderweb patterns, scorched black by abyssal plasma, with deep claw gouges penetrating straight to the bone.

A living S-rank body was neither a reward menu nor a shortcut through the cultivation ladder, and Fin felt only grim urgency as he knelt beside her in the silt.

Her breath came in ragged, wet gasps, crimson froth bubbling at the corner of her lips while her eyelids fluttered open with agonizing effort.

"Do not attempt to sit up," Fin said firmly, checking her pulse point with careful fingers while keeping his posture low against sniper fire.

"The strike division... broken across the shelf," she whispered, her voice barely rising above the distant rumble of coastal artillery.

Across the drying mudflats, the sudden scent of wounded S-rank spiritual flesh had triggered an immediate feeding frenzy among the secondary breach wave.

A vicious pack of eighteen abyssal carvers came bounding out of the kelp beds, their jaws snapping as they lunged toward the scent of golden blood.

The carvers moved with predatory coordination, spreading out across the tidal flats to encircle the crater before the wounded hunter could be moved.

"We have incoming flankers closing fast," Nila shouted from the crater rim, her throwing arm whipping forward in a blur of silver steel.

Two weighted flechettes buried themselves deep into the lead carver’s ocular cluster, flipping the thrashing beast into the mud before it could pounce.

Ruby planted her tower shield into the crater rim, creating a solid steel barricade between the wounded champion and the charging predators.

"Take the left flank, Fin," Ruby commanded, her voice ringing with the seasoned authority of an outbreak veteran, "I will anchor the lip!"

Fin surged up the embankment without burning precious Overclock reserves, meeting the charge with cold, measured lethality.

The nearest carver sprang with outstretched talons, but Fin stepped smoothly inside its arc, sweeping his hatchet upward in a vicious rising strike.

The reverse spike pierced cleanly through the soft cartilage beneath its lower jaw, driving into the brainpan with an explosive burst of pale fluid.

Withdrawing the blade with a sharp twist, Fin spun on his heel and drew his secondary dagger, driving the tempered steel into the flank of a second lunging beast.

The monster collapsed with a strangled screech, its thrashing tail lashing harmlessly against the wet gravel before stilling forever.

Two more carvers attempted to leap past Ruby’s shield, but she drove the iron-capped butt of her spear into the first beast’s chest, shattering its ribs instantly.

Nila followed the opening without missing a beat, driving a slender stiletto through the second beast’s spinal cord with ruthless precision.

Behind them, the heavy diesel engine of Bram’s armored hauler roared as the reinforced transport backed down the gravel approach ramp.

Bram and two veteran municipal medics leaped into the mud, hauling a rigid titanium litter equipped with high-yield mana-suppression blankets.

"Lift on three," the lead medic barked, sliding the support straps beneath Saura’s shattered shoulder guards, "stabilizers locked at ninety percent!"

They injected two concentrated doses of coagulant fluid directly into her collar, sealing the arterial bleeding before hoisting the frame onto the carriage.

As they lifted her toward the safety of the hauler, Saura’s scorched fingers reached outward, catching the thick canvas of Fin’s sleeve with surprising strength.

"Listen to me... boy," she rasped, coughing dark fluid against the collar of her ruined tunic, "the SS host... is not migrating blind."

"What did you see out there beyond the reef?" Fin asked, matching her stride as the medics hurried toward the open rear doors of the hauler.

"Traitor hulls... Genesis harvest carriers... operating under the storm clouds," she whispered, her eyes burning with fevered intensity, "they are using sub-harmonic acoustic anchors... steering the swarm straight into Jonxy’s breakwater pilings."

"They are herding the breach toward our seawall on purpose," Fin murmured, pieces of the tactical puzzle snapping instantly into place.

"They want the breakwater to fall... so they can harvest fifty thousand dead civilians for core cultivation," she hissed, her grip finally slipping away as unconsciousness overtook her.

"We will break their anchors," Fin promised quietly, stepping back as the medics secured her inside the armored compartment.

"Plasma pressure is stabilizing," the secondary medic reported, securing the IV lines to the hauler’s internal bulkhead, "she will survive the transport run."

Bram slammed the rear hatch shut with a resounding thud, nodding grimly at Fin through the reinforced vision slit.

"We will have her in the subterranean surgery at Fort Mercer in four minutes," Bram called out before the hauler churned through the silt, racing back toward safety.

The remaining abyssal carvers lay motionless across the mud, dispatched with methodical precision by Nila’s pins and Ruby’s spear.

A warm, heavy pulse of accomplishment settled across Fin’s chest as the sector defense grid verified the extraction.

[ Event Milestone: Defense of Sector Alpha Flank ]

[ Priority Asset Extracted: S-Rank Hunter Saura (Critical Condition) ]

[ Swarm Neutralized: Abyssal Carvers (18/18 Cleared) ]

[ Experience Award: +3,200,000 EXP ]

[ Experience Total: 31,100,000 / 250,000,000 ]

"Thirty-one million experience points," Ruby said, stepping up beside him while using a rag to wipe black ichor from her shield face.

"None of that experience matters if those harvest hulls tear the seawall out from beneath our feet," Fin replied, staring out past the breakers.

"Maya, pull up radar telemetry for the deep channel," Nila requested, climbing onto a high concrete stanchion to scout the horizon.

"Confirming three massive commercial hulls idling two miles behind the monster vanguard," Maya reported, her voice laced with cold fury, "they are broadcasting high-frequency mana pulses into the water."

"Can Colonel Mercer’s batteries reach them with direct fire?" Fin asked, watching the distant sea spray churn around the iron prows.

"The hulls are shielded by heavy anti-kinetic dome arrays," Maya answered after a moment of calculation, "artillery fire will simply skip off their outer deflection bubbles."

"Then naval shells cannot do the job from the bluffs," Ruby noted, adjusting the grip on her spear with a grim frown.

"Which means someone has to board those carriers and disable the anchors manually," Nila said, testing the tension on her wrist launcher.

"Then we stop playing defense," Fin said, tightening his grip on the haft of his hatchet, "and we take the fight directly to their fleet."

He looked back toward Breakwater Post Four, verifying that their rear was secure and that Fort Mercer’s garrison was holding the line.

The tide was still pulling back into the abyss, leaving a wide highway of exposed sea floor leading directly toward the rogue vessels.

With their retreat lines guarded and their resolve hardened, Halden House turned their eyes away from the seawall and prepared to cross the barren sand.