Chapter 966: Distortion!

Chapter 966: Distortion!

"What the hell? It's up to me again?!"

Luoyu, sitting in the Thunder fighter jet, looked utterly bewildered. He glanced sideways at the building wrapped in crimson matter and couldn't help but feel his scalp crawl.

Was that stuff the creep?

How could the Legion deploy such an outrageous thing as mutated slime mold on the battlefield?!

Clearly, the consensus of the Slime Commonwealth had been treated like toilet paper by them.

Or perhaps, as the Southern Legion explained regarding that ancient pact—it was signed by Julius, and they weren't there.

"Xiao Yu... does your ability work on that thing?"

"Ee-oo!" (Worth a try)

"Alright..."

Luoyu took a deep breath, gripping the control stick while stomping the rudder pedal with his left foot to change course. He aimed the cannon at the building being devoured by the unspeakable entity, then pressed the fire button hard with his thumb.

"Boom—!"

With a brief roar, thousands of 20mm aviation cannon rounds were emptied in an instant!

Facing the sudden burst of firepower, the crimson vines climbing toward the rooftop were blasted open, halting their ascent for a moment.

The crimson mass quickly traced the attack's origin, and tentacles, coiled and ready, shot into the sky like projectiles, intercepting the Thunder fighter!

Just as the hatred was fully drawn by his aircraft, a hint of a triumphant smile curled at the corner of Luoyu's lips. His right hand grabbed the ejection handle beneath the seat and yanked it upward sharply.

With a few short pops, he and his seat were launched out of the shattered cockpit.

Meanwhile, his aircraft, undeterred, continued its charge toward the hive-mother that was trying to swallow the entire building!

The hive-mother, of course, wouldn't let that hunk of metal crash into its head.

Without any surprise, tentacles wrapped around the Thunder fighter like a net.

But the hive-mother didn't know that the cockpit of that Thunder fighter was already filled with Xiao Yu's fruiting bodies!

Those fruiting bodies were like his avatars, possessing nearly all his piloting experience, and could even generate a mimic "him" inside the cockpit!

Thanks to this special ability, even though he had ejected and was dangling from a parachute, he could still control the aircraft remotely through the comm channel.

Of course, now that he had successfully made contact with the hive-mother, there was no need for that anymore.

That Thunder fighter, filled with fruiting bodies, was his Trojan horse!

"Please, Xiao Yu!"

Hanging from his parachute, Luoyu stared intently at the aircraft entangled by tentacles, silently cheering Xiao Yu on in his heart.

But just then, a sudden "Ee-oo!" came through the comm channel.

(Something's off, it doesn't seem like a hive-mother!)

Not a hive-mother?

Luoyu was stunned, staring incredulously at the boiling mass of creep in the distance.

What else could it be?

While he was still in a daze, his aircraft was crushed like a crumpled soda can by the entwining tentacles.

A burst of fire suddenly erupted; the detonating battery shattered the tentacles wrapped around the fighter, but those faint sparks quickly vanished in the night breeze.

Luoyu, suspended in the air, was completely dumbfounded, especially when he saw the tentacles turning and charging toward him.

This thing isn't a hive-mother?!

"Damn it—!"

...

In a mansion not far from the "World Tower," the Southern Legion's Chief of Staff, Augustus, and his wife used leftover canned goods to prepare a final dinner for their children.

Though it was just sardines, minced meat, and buttered oysters, the cans at least bore the "special supply" label.

He had already dripped pre-prepared cyanide into the children's vegetable juice and into his and his wife's red wine. With a trembling index finger, he carefully tucked his napkin into his collar as a final gesture of dignity.

After completing all preparations, he looked at his children, who were curious and innocent, suppressed the pain in his heart, cleared his throat, and spoke in a solemn, low voice, as if addressing a gathering of thousands.

"Let us toast to the esteemed Marshal Julius, to the invincible Legion, to the honor of the Vland people..."

Everything would end tonight.

With that, he raised his glass and gently clinked it with his wife's. The children mimicked him, lifting their cups, babbling "cheers," then giggling as they drank the tasty vegetable juice.

The process was painless.

For these young lives, this was perhaps the greatest mercy—they wouldn't have to bear sin through a long life... Yet perhaps this tragic fate didn't exist at all, just like the mad ambition, merely imposed by their fathers.

Watching the children fall asleep at the table, a flicker of pain crossed the wife's face, but she eventually forced herself to regain composure, then tilted her head back and downed the red wine in one gulp. With a "thud," she slumped onto the table, never to wake again.

Finally, it was over.

She couldn't bear this world for another moment.

Seeing his family die before him one by one, Augustus's emotions finally broke. His face twisted in agony, and the hand holding the wine glass trembled uncontrollably.

"It was my fault... I ruined you all..."

If only he had stopped Tyr back then...

If he had done something, perhaps his family would now be vacationing on the beaches of Bartoa Province.

But regret was too late now.

The victory at Westport Harbor had intoxicated too many. Both young and old officers were utterly convinced that the Enterprise was on its last legs, unable to uphold the ancient pact, especially since the Brahmin standing in their way were so utterly pathetic.

Augustus brought the glass to his lips, ready to drink it all and end all suffering.

But just then, a deafening roar and a low, guttural howl came from outside the window.

He froze, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtain. There, the landmark of Avant City—the alloy skyscraper built of metal—was now enveloped in masses of meat-red, unknown substance.

That thing seemed alive, writhing under the night's dim lights, letting out a bitter, ugly cry toward the sky.

"Ooo—!"

It roared again, every cell in its body seeming to ripple, rolling like surging waves.

Augustus's eyes widened, his face a mix of disbelief and confusion.

He had just returned from that building not long ago...

If nothing went wrong, the esteemed Legion Commander Tyr should be there, on the 68th floor.

"Commander... Tyr?"

He muttered blankly, as several fighter jets streaked across the sky.

The Alliance seemed to have noticed the anomaly in the building. Vertical takeoff and landing aircraft, spewing plasma plumes, broke through the air defense blockade at low altitude, rapidly closing in on the "World Tower."

"...What the hell is that?"

That ugly monster...

He knew that the building housed some doomsday weapons, but he had no idea that Tyr still held such an ugly trump card in his hands.

That could no longer be called a human form—it was like a pus blister squeezed out from the earth's surface.

Augustus, utterly disheartened, staggered back two steps, finally closed his eyes in despair, and then yanked the curtain shut.

Julius above...

What in the world had they done?!

Not just Tyr, but himself as well, and all those chiliarchs who supported him...

Were they truly set on turning the Vlandians from humans into cockroaches?

He drained the red wine from his glass in one gulp and collapsed limply to his knees beside the dining table.

Gazing at his dead lover and children, in the final moment of his life, he suddenly jolted awake, snapping free from that nightmare.

With the little time he had left, he repented.

"Wah... please forgive your child, Marshal Julius... it is we who have failed you."

"It is we... the Southern Legion... who are unworthy of the Vlandians..."

...

"Woo—!"

A deep, drawn-out roar shattered the dark clouds, like the low moan of a deep-sea leviathan.

Hearing that deafening sound, the soldiers of the Southern Legion fighting on the front lines all stopped battling as if by unspoken accord, turning to look back at the churning mass of flesh behind them.

Ugliness was rendered in full measure in that moment, along with an indescribable twist and chaos.

Shock painted itself across their faces.

They could not believe that right behind them—their homeland, the place from which they had marched forth—

there grew such a twisted beast.

"Demon..."

A wavering panic was etched in a pair of trembling pupils; the battle-hardened veteran involuntarily stepped back, and the conviction to fight to the very end finally wavered.

What exactly had he been fighting for all this time?

Or was it...

that they themselves were that thing?

Jolted awake, his back was drenched in cold sweat, and a pained expression twisted his face.

And in another trench not far from him, the faces of new recruits who had received less than half a month of military training were equally filled with shock.

"Damn it... what the hell is that?!"

"An Alliance bioweapon?!"

The flesh-red tendrils continued to stretch upward, like vines climbing into the sky.

A grayish-yellow mist spread outward, like a canopy suddenly bursting into bloom.

But what was even more terrifying than this was that its roots were also spreading outward.

Those tangled tendrils rolled through the streets like a cascading waterfall, reaping every life they targeted indiscriminately—human, rat, or cockroach.

Perish—

Inferior race.

The rolling spore cloud let out a silent moan, blending its rage into the silent slaughter.

The soldiers retreated in fear, or futilely opened fire with their rifles, trying to hold back the tide-like advance of those tendrils.

Was that... the mother nest of a mutant slime mold?!

But why was it here?!

The horrifying presence exceeded the comprehension and understanding of the soldiers on the scene.

Although the Southern Legion-controlled Batoia Province and the outskirts of the Great Wasteland also had scattered mutant slime mold nests, they were mostly located in pre-war ruins and wilderness far from human habitation.

In the blink of an eye, a crimson tendril lashed out at a soldier, hoisting him dozens of meters into the air amid his screams, then cleaving him in two with a heavy strike, scattering him into a rain of gore and blood!

The soldiers crouching behind cover were dumbfounded, not knowing how to fight such a terrifying thing.

Just as the tide was about to sweep over them, a Chimera armored vehicle suddenly charged in from the side.

The soldiers all ducked back into cover, listening to the pounding of the 37mm cannons firing just above their heads.

But the deadly armor-piercing incendiary rounds did not fall into their trench.

A new recruit nervously pulled out a Panzerfaust rocket launcher, pulled the safety pin, and prepared to fire, but was stopped by the officer beside him.

On the street in the distance, long tracer rounds shot toward the surging tendrils, momentarily forcing back the raging tide and keeping the crimson tendrils at bay.

Then, a thunderous roar blasted through the loudspeakers over the heads of the Southern Legion soldiers.

"What are you waiting for! This thing is slaughtering your own kin! Do you need your enemy to teach you how to shoot?!"

Hearing this, the men snapped back to their senses, including the centurion whose hand was still on the rocket launcher.

Though they didn't know what the crimson tendrils and the mass of flesh enveloping the World Tower building were, at least one thing was certain—

That thing fed on Vlandian flesh and blood!

"All units, attention! Cease fire temporarily! Turn your guns on that monster!"

The scattered centuries among the ruins regained their morale; units that had been broken up and reorganized themselves once more.

"Ooh-rah!"

The same scene played out on various streets around Avant City.

Though the battle between the Southern Legion and the Alliance was not yet over, because of that indescribable demon, some units had already turned their weapons around, tacitly cooperating to face the common enemy first...

Meanwhile, in the distant Great Rift Valley, the Chief sitting in the meeting room let out a faint, deep sigh.

"History repeats itself once again..."

What had happened two hundred years ago boiled down to the same thing: both sides, blinded by bloodlust, had pressed the doomsday button in unison.

The only consolation was that at least this time, it wasn't a downward spiral.

Probably...

...

On the front lines of Avant City.

Chiliarch Baldwin, directing the battle, stared wide-eyed in shock, his gaze fixed on the building called the "World Tower."

What...

was that?

More and more incomprehensible things were piling up. Perhaps from the very start of the "Dead Agent" plan, he should have realized that Tyr was a complete madman, and that his ambition would doom everyone!

Reports kept coming in over the phone from the rear: the logistics units stationed near Avant City had been devastated!

At that moment, his adjutant jogged over from the side, too rushed to salute, reporting with sweat pouring down his face.

“Sir, the Alliance’s air forces are pushing toward our rear!”

A flicker of struggle passed through Baldwin’s eyes; after two seconds, he finally steeled his resolve.

“Let them through!”

The adjutant stared at him in astonishment.

“But—”

Baldwin fixed his gaze on the adjutant’s eyes, using a tone that brooked no refusal.

“Do as I say!”

Seeing the expression that was no joke, the adjutant held his breath, but in the end, gritted his teeth, saluted, turned, and left to carry out the order.

Watching his adjutant depart, Baldwin looked at the battle map beside him, and all his emotions eventually condensed into a long sigh.

It was already lost…

Perhaps he should have realized it sooner, but it was too late to say that now.

At the very least, he had to stop that ever-expanding monster.

Otherwise, not only would Marshal Julius’s glory and the Southern Legion’s century of accumulation be reduced to rubble under its rampaging, but every Verant in the city would also be buried with it.

At the same moment he issued the order, Baldwin called the captains of the nearby steel airships, reporting the ground situation to them one by one.

“An unknown organic lifeform spreading from the Tower of the World is attacking our compatriots indiscriminately! Including our soldiers, our civilians! We must cease fire immediately! Before it’s too late!”

Some hung up on him directly, some denounced him as a traitor, but a few listened and expressed disbelief at his words, suspecting it might be an Alliance conspiracy.

Indeed, that possibility couldn’t be ruled out.

But for the Alliance, on the verge of victory, deploying sensitive biological weapons was a risky and unprofitable endeavor.

Thinking of Tyr, who stopped at nothing, the cause and effect of the matter seemed beyond further speculation.

Without a doubt—

It was yet another “unorthodox trick” that defied convention.

And as before, Tyr had once again botched things, letting everything spiral out of control.

Some captains tried to contact their superiors, but their superiors were in chaos themselves.

Not only had Legion Commander Tyr gone missing, but their Chief of Staff Augustus was also nowhere to be found.

The Southern Legion’s command system was in disarray; some finally realized the gravity of the situation.

Of the remaining eight steel airships, three raised white flags, and soon that number became five; even two of them, under Baldwin’s orders, outright turned their cannons, aiming 100mm artillery at the rampaging “Hive Mother.”

This act thoroughly enraged the monster; what had been relatively restrained now went completely berserk, including the airships hovering at low altitude in its attack range, forcing them to retract their anchor chains and move away from the Tower of the World.

The Alliance’s air defense units did not open fire on these airships, even though the phase cannons on the suburban train had already locked onto them.

The urgent priority now was to eliminate that rampaging unknown lifeform!

Meanwhile, aboard the Viper transport hovering over the center of Avant City, Quit Smoking, who had been sitting with eyes closed, suddenly opened them and hurriedly spoke to Old Bai beside him.

“Falling Feather just posted on the forum… he says that thing isn’t the Hive Mother!”

Old Bai was taken aback.

“Not the Hive Mother?! Then what the hell is it?”

Quit Smoking shook his head, speaking rapidly.

“No idea… he only said it’s not the Hive Mother, not that it’s not a variant slime mold. Little Feather can’t figure out what it is either—kind of like a fruiting body with independent consciousness… Damn, anyway, he’s talking nonsense! He says only by destroying the brain hidden in this pile of crap can we devour it!”

Old Bai stared at him intently.

“So there is a way to devour it?”

Quit Smoking swallowed, nodding hastily.

“Fifty-fifty chance… according to Little Feather.”

“Anyway, one thing’s for sure: that thing is something none of us have ever seen before.”

Killer Dagger’s expression turned grim, and he cursed under his breath.

“Shit… we might have to get the data from the Tower of the World to figure out what the hell this thing is.”

Get the data from the Tower of the World…

Quit Smoking glanced outside the cabin at the building wrapped in flesh-red slime mold, feeling a chill run down his spine.

“How the hell do we get in there?”

“Have you guys figured out what to do yet?! This thing has too many arms! I can’t hold them off!” Kidney Fighter, crouched by the cabin door, gripped a 40mm airborne grenade launcher, firing at the tentacles thrusting toward the transport.

Against the high-explosive grenades loaded with metallic hydrogen, the thick tentacles were blown apart one after another, but they still couldn’t withstand the sheer number surging in all at once!

The pilot dodged left and right with superb flying skills, but this couldn’t last forever.

Old Bai’s mind raced.

Just then, Fang Chang’s voice suddenly came through the comm channel.

“The Southern Legion’s 200th Maniple has surrendered. Old Bai, can you hear me?”

Old Bai grinned.

“I hear you. They surrendered? So our ground forces can get in?”

Fang Chang’s tone was serious.

“That’s the idea, but you’ve seen the front line. Pushing ground forces all the way in is nearly impossible, and even if we succeed, the casualties would be too heavy—”

Old Bai: “Cut the crap, just hurry up and tell me what to do!”

Hearing Old Bai’s urging, Fang Chang replied without hesitation.

“Same as in Clear Springs City—jump in and fight them!”

Old Bai was stunned.

“Jump… down?”

Fang Chang didn’t explain, continuing in a decisive tone.

“According to intelligence from Chiliarch Baldwin, Tyr should be… no, he’s on the 68th floor.”

The moment his words fell, a white smoke trail suddenly streaked across the sky over Avant City, striking the waist of the “Tower of the World” dead-on!

It was an anti-ship cruise missile launched from the South Sea Alliance’s cruiser, the *Harpoon*!

The flashing white light instantly burned through the crimson slime mold and the alloy walls beneath it; a deafening explosion roared into the clouds along with the spreading shockwave!

The “demon” waving its tentacles let out a pained shriek, while the wound blasted by the cruise missile healed at a visible rate.

At the same moment the missile struck, Fang Chang’s voice came through the comm channel again.

“Now! Go!”

Without time to hesitate, Old Bai reached out, grabbed the back of the pilot’s seat, and shouted forward at the top of his lungs.

"Move toward the center of the explosion! Hurry!"

Though tense, the pilot gritted his teeth and obeyed, dodging and weaving past the rushing tentacles, using the smoke from the blast as cover to advance near the missile's point of impact.

Crimson tentacles had already veiled the wound, the monster deliberately hauling metal debris from the building to plug the breach.

The Kidney Warrior crouched at the cabin's edge, of course, wouldn't give it a chance. With a guttural roar, he buffed his grenade launcher, then unleashed a burst of high-explosive rounds, shredding the tentacles into fragments!

The ghastly wound lay exposed, and with it, the untainted structure within the World Tower!

"Woo—!"

A pained howl rang out again, rattling the cockpit glass.

"We can't stay here long!" the pilot shouted through clenched teeth, struggling to keep the craft hovering. "This is as close as I can get—"

Before he finished, Old Bai, clad in the "Dragoon" power armor, took a running start and leaped toward the exposed breach.

Tentacles poised to strike lunged forward, but before they could touch the armor's edge, a volley of high-explosive grenades blasted them into pulp.

"Old Bai! I've got your back!" the Kidney Warrior yelled excitedly from the cabin's edge.

At the same moment, Old Bai's boots landed on the 68th floor of the World Tower.

The scarlet fungal mat squelched under the steel armor, and a blazing thermal cutting axe slid smoothly into his hand.

Alongside it, the wrist-thick bolter clicked as it chambered a round.

A tentacle lashed at him like lightning from a corner of the room, but before it could close within ten meters, a high-explosive shell turned it to slag!

The bolter wasn't limited to bolt rounds; Monolith Military Industries had long since designed a series of anti-personnel warheads with no safety distance for this weapon.

And these specialized rounds worked just as well in tight quarters!

"Yeah, thanks... Leave the rest to me. You two pull back."

The breach was closing, the remaining gap too narrow for a second person to enter—

Unless another anti-ship missile came.

But that was no longer necessary.

Old Bai could sense that powerful presence here, on this floor, not far from him.

Yet he felt no fear.

As the player with the highest combat power on the server, he was confident he could defeat any opponent in a 1v1 duel.

Even one he'd never faced before—

It wasn't him who should be afraid, but it!

"Come out, Tyr. It has to be you... Let me see how much of that power you've truly mastered."

After severing three tentacles that struck at him, Old Bai swung his thermal cutting axe and strode toward the broken laboratory door.

Deep inside the 68th-floor lab, Tyr, eyes shut tight, his face stiffened for a moment, his ugly features twisting like a boiling swamp.

He hadn't fully mastered his power yet—right now, he couldn't split his attention to deal with the traitors and Alliance soldiers outside while focusing on this little fly buzzing under his nose.

But if this little fly arrogantly thought that meant he, a being like a god, couldn't crush it, that would be laughable.

To him, it was just squashing a bug!

"Who allowed you to stand here—"

Before he finished, a alloy door, sliced in two, hurtled at him like a cannonball.

Caught off guard, Tyr had to dodge, but when he looked up, the armored man with the short axe stood before him, the unsharpened blade blazing with searing light.

"No one asked for your permission."

"I came on my own!"