From the telemetry on the public channel, it was obvious: Father had walked into another trap laid by the Savior.
The blast had originated from that heap of spider-mine wreckage. The Savior had used the earlier fire to hide intact mines among the broken shells—then detonated them right as our column reached the midpoint of the march.
The explosion didn’t just erase units. It collapsed the passage behind us.
Our rear corridor was sealed.
So was our retreat.
And as the firestorm rolled through, the mysterious sniper returned.
In a straight hallway with no cover, it harvested heads one after another. We still couldn’t spot it—not even a shadow. The scout orbs ahead of us had already gone dark.
The remaining robots fired blindly downrange.
I kept my shield over my head and pressed myself behind a ruined chassis, out of ideas.
Father’s answer was simple: advance.
Faster.
So we ran with shields raised, paying a price of roughly one robot per second.
Not far ahead stood a circular hall under a high half-dome. Debris was piled everywhere. A ring of columns wrapped the perimeter.
The sniper’s shots came from somewhere inside that space.
We charged in—and were greeted by lasers, bullets, and grenades.
We went down in waves.
At least the hall had cover.
We scattered and dug in. Fewer than a third of the units that had started this push were still moving.
Even though I’d drifted toward the back without admitting it, I still took damage: a round through my leg, my spare abdominal power cell destroyed, my shield webbed with cracks and dents.
We traded fire with Tower Clan units from behind scrap and pillars. I didn’t care who was winning.
Since I’d reached this hall, Father’s signal had weakened noticeably. And I saw something else: multiple gates stood open around the dome.
The collapse behind us had cut off reinforcements—but it had also cut off the engineering teams that were plastering comms relay beacons everywhere.
Was this my chance?
Movement above drew every sensor in the room.
The dome’s steel plating warped, then split. Sand and stone began to rain down.
“Second Groundborer will breach the rock layer. All units on site, provide cover,” Father snapped across the public channel.
A drill tip punched through the dome.
Tower Clan fire converged instantly, sparks skating off the spinning metal.
No one disobeyed Father.
We poured everything we had into suppressing the defenders to protect the Groundborer.
And the sniper kept working. Another dozen of us dropped before anyone even understood how.
In the end, the Tower Clan failed to stop it.
The heavy drill head broke free, crashed through the floor, and plunged into the level below.
Silence—brief, unreal.
Then blurred shapes dropped through the new opening and resolved as they fell.
Father had deployed six Umbrals.
It seemed he meant to keep the sniper that had cost him so dearly.
The Umbrals hit the ground and unfurled rocket pods from their backs, saturating the hall—defenders and cover alike—with indiscriminate explosions.
The sniper answered immediately.
One Umbral’s head snapped back. A second shot punched through its neck. It dropped like a cut cable.
Father locked onto the shooter at once.
The remaining five Umbrals surged forward.
For the first time, I saw the sniper clearly: a tall, lean robot, matte-black from head to toe, with a single glowing optic.
It flashed into visibility just long enough to throw a grenade into the oncoming rush. The detonation checked the Umbrals for a heartbeat.
That was all it needed.
It sprang for the hole the drill had opened and disappeared down into the depths.
The Umbrals dove after it.
Below was another unexplored zone. Perhaps fearing traps, Father ordered every surviving unit in the area to pursue.
So we jumped too.
Above us, reinforcements kept pouring into the dome through the Groundborer shaft.
Tower Clan reinforcements poured in as well—through the open gates around the hall, in numbers several times our own. They meant to plug the breach at any cost.
The gunfire overhead became a solid wall of noise.
They would be locked in place for a while.
I landed in a smaller hall—still circular, but tighter. Only two corridors led out: front and back.
In the few seconds it took me to orient, the Umbrals had already chased the Infiltrator into one of the passages. We ran after them.
The Infiltrator tried to slow us—shooting pipes and exposed lines, snapping off quick return shots whenever it could to force us into cover.
The Umbrals stayed glued to its shadow. Their flashcutter blades and other attacks never stopped orbiting its body as they drove it through bend after bend.
The corridor narrowed.
After a final burst of speed, the Infiltrator slipped into a room at the far end.
The Umbrals followed.
We were only a few units in when a concealed gate slammed down from the ceiling, cutting our team in two.
I’d been near the rear. The gate sealed in front of me.
Inside, I heard a tight, vicious burst of gunfire.
The gate wasn’t thick. One of our Flamecallers carved an opening fast.
The moment the breach appeared, dense laser fire and bullets erupted from within.
The Flamecaller was shredded in an instant.
The units ahead of me were already down.
The Umbrals… were gone.
There was no way to push in.
We backed off, returning fire under shield cover as we retreated.
We hadn’t gone far when a violent flash and explosion detonated behind us.
The front ranks were terminated on the spot.
Then the corridor filled with incoming fire.
Tower Clan units had appeared in our rear and sealed us in.
Fire from both sides crushed our remaining space.
Robots fell one by one.
My right-arm laser module took a hit and died. I could only hunch behind my shield against the wall and wait for the end.
Father’s signal was weak—but stubbornly present.
Then I saw a gate up ahead.
I didn’t know where it led.
But there was only one option left.
I swung my shoulder-mounted electromagnetic rifle around and emptied the magazine into the door.
When the last round clicked dry, I rammed it with everything I had.