Time seemed to congeal in the chemical-scented air. The low hum from the Screamer sharpened into a piercing shriek that drilled into their skulls, a sound of pure, alien malice. In response, the Strikers below shook off their dormancy with a unified, chittering roar.
They did not charge blindly. Instead, they moved with a chilling synchronicity, flowing into flanking positions, cutting off their retreat to the tunnel, and beginning to scale the support struts of the catwalks with terrifying insectile agility.
They were not just a swarm; they were a single organism, and the Screamer was its brain.
"Kohta! The ventilation unit—that's the source! Find a way to destroy it!" Hyejun's voice cut through the psychic assault, a blade of clarity in the rising chaos. "The rest of us hold this position! Do not let them surround us!"
The catwalk was their Alamo, a narrow metal stage suspended above a waking sea of claws and teeth. There was no room for complex maneuvers, only a brutal, desperate line in the sand.
Takashi, his face a mask of feral determination, braced himself at one end of the gantry. "Come on, you freaks!" he bellowed, his metal pipe meeting the first climber with a crunch of chitin and bone. He fought with raw, untempered fury, each blow a thunderous rejection of the horror around them.
Rei and Saeko became the flanks, a dance of contrasting lethality. Rei's spear was a viper, lancing out with sharp, efficient jabs to skewer Strikers as they crested the railing, using her weapon's length to maintain a precious few inches of distance.
Saeko, in contrast, was a reaping storm. Her katana wove a tapestry of dismemberment around her, a seamless flow of cuts and parries. The storm within her was fully unleashed, but now it was a directed hurricane, every movement an extension of the pact she had made in the garden. Her eyes met Hyejun's for a split second across the fray—a look of perfect, terrifying understanding.
Hyejun anchored the center, his staff a whirlwind of defensive destruction. He was the unmovable object against the irresistible tide, his movements so fluid they seemed preordained.
He shattered limbs, crushed skulls, and used the pole's length to sweep multiple creatures off the catwalk, sending them plummeting into the seething mass below. But his attention was divided, his gaze constantly flicking towards the Screamer. This was the core. This had to die.
"Komuro! With me!" he shouted. "We need to clear a path to that thing!"
Takashi, grunting with effort, smashed another Striker aside. "About damn time!" He fell in beside Hyejun, and together they became a battering ram of focused violence, pushing forward along the gantry towards the central platform where the Screamer stood, its stinger-tipped arm now raised as if directing a symphony of death.
Behind them, Kohta was on his knees, frantically unscrewing an access panel on the massive ventilation unit, his hands shaking. Saya stood over him, a small pistol held in a white-knuckled grip, firing measured shots at any Striker that got too close. "Hurry, Kohta!" she urged, her voice tight.
"I'm trying! The wiring is fused! I need to cause a feedback surge, but I can't access the main relay!"
The Screamer's shriek intensified. It seemed to sense their intent. A group of Strikers broke from the main swarm, leaping from a higher catwalk to land behind Hyejun and Takashi, cutting them off from the others.
"We're surrounded!" Takashi yelled, his back now to Hyejun's as they stood in the middle of the gantry, a shrinking island in a rising ocean of foes.
Hyejun's mind raced, calculating trajectories, weaknesses, and the flow of the fight. His eyes fell on Fuyumi's throwing knives tucked in his belt. Precision. A single, well-placed cut. He couldn't reach the Screamer through the horde. But he could disrupt its command.
"Saeko! The support cables for the main lights!" He roared, pointing to the thick, steel-reinforced ropes holding a massive, dormant industrial light fixture directly above the Screamer's platform.
Saeko followed his gaze and understood instantly. A fierce, almost joyful light ignited in her violet eyes. "Rei, cover me!"
As Rei redoubled her efforts, creating a defensive wall with her spear, Saeko took two running steps and leaped from the catwalk. It was an impossible jump, but she used a passing Striker as a stepping stone, her foot landing on its back for a split second to propel herself higher, a breathtaking display of acrobatic swordsmanship.
She flew through the air, her katana a silver streak as she severed two of the three main support cables in mid-air.
The massive light fixture groaned, tilting precariously.
It was the opening Hyejun needed. In the moment of stunned silence that followed Saeko's audacious move, he drew one of the throwing knives. The world slowed. The hum of the hive, the shrieks of the Strikers, and the frantic shouts of his comrades all faded into a dull background roar. There was only the Screamer, the taut cable, and the path of the blade.
He threw.
The knife wasn't aimed at the creature itself. It spun end over end, a sliver of reflected light, and struck the final, straining support cable with a sharp *ping*. The weakened strand snapped.
With a shriek of tearing metal, the multi-ton light fixture plummeted down, a comet of glass and steel. It crashed onto the central platform with cataclysmic force, directly onto the Screamer.
The piercing shriek was cut off instantly. The low-frequency hum ceased as if a switch had been thrown.
The effect on the Strikers was immediate and catastrophic. Their unified coordination shattered. The swarm dissolved into chaos. They stumbled and clattered into each other, their attacks becoming wild, uncoordinated lurches. The hive mind was dead.
"Now, Kohta! Now!" Saya screamed.
Emboldened, Kohta jammed his crowbar into the access panel, wrenching it open and crossing exposed wires. A shower of sparks erupted, and the ventilation unit let out a dying whine before falling completely silent.
In the sudden, profound quiet, the remaining Strikers seemed to lose their purpose. Some froze. Others fled blindly into the darker recesses of the plant. The immediate, intelligent threat was gone.
The team stood panting on the gantry, surrounded by the twitching remains of their enemies, the silence louder than any battle cry. They had won. They had severed the head of the beast.
Takashi looked at Hyejun, his chest heaving, the resentment in his eyes momentarily replaced by a raw, undeniable respect. "You... you knew that would work."
Hyejun retrieved his pole staff, his gaze sweeping over his exhausted, bloodied, but victorious team. "I calculated the variables." He looked towards the crushed Screaker, then back at the faces of the people who had fought beside him. They were no longer just survivors he was protecting.
They were his vanguard. The first members of the new world he would build from the ashes of the old. The path to the pocket sanctuary felt a little clearer, the promise a little closer.