When Li hit the wall, the air was punched clean out of his lungs. His vision swam, pain flaring like lightning behind his eyes. Every inch of him screamed to stay down. Just... one... more... shot.
Another Guardian sprinted over and hoisted him up against the cracked stone, his body slick with sweat and blood. The bandages around his ribs were soaked, warm and sticky, but the worst part was the weight of helplessness. He wanted to thrash, to cry out, to do something—but stillness had claimed him like a curse.
Out on the field, the massive centipede had curled into a defensive coil, its armored segments grinding like steel. Guardians shouted orders and broke formation, desperate to concentrate fire where they could. Chaos and courage clashed in the dust.
Li placed a trembling hand on the cannon beside him, a low groan escaping his throat. His body begged for mercy, but his spirit hadn't surrendered. Not yet.
He gritted his teeth, muscles shaking as he dragged the cannon upright. Its core flickered—then flared. His first attempt failed; the cannon dropped with a dull clang. Gasping through clenched teeth, Li seized it again, bracing it with his leg. His fingers locked around the grip like iron.
Across the battlefield, the centipede was fixated on another squad—but then it saw the glow.
It clicked its monstrous jaws.
It uncoiled in a snap, head lunging with terrifying speed toward Li like a whip of death.
Time slowed. There was no more adrenaline. No more pain. Just precision.
Li took the shot.
The cannon thundered.
A blinding flash tore through the battlefield—and when the smoke cleared, the centipede's head was gone. Its body slumped to the ground, lifeless, like a building collapsing in slow motion. Guts and blood sprayed the dirt, the last spasms of the beast twitching in the bloodied silence.
Li exhaled in jagged, victorious gasps, lowering the cannon as it hissed and cooled.
"Medics! On him!"
He didn't resist as they rushed to his side.
…
A few of the Guardians who had been taken to the side for medical aid had now gotten up, ready to fight, just as another round was sent off; those who had been harmed by the beast. The leader of the group was making a status report and it seemed the Drill Team was still held up above them. The barricade team had begun to re-establish the defenses they had set up and the previous order to hold the location was still in place.
The others slapped Li on the back or congratulated him for the victory and even though he was hurting all over, he had to admit that the happiness from the new victory numbed it somewhat though when he tried to move, it still hurt and his blood was only beginning to flow out less slightly.
There wasn't much time. The rescue squad was already descending, but everyone stayed on high alert for another attack.
Their instincts paid off.
"Brace! Brace! Incoming from the opening! Barricade troops, alert!" the captain shouted.
A deep rumble shook the ground, followed by the sharp, sickening clatter of thousands of pincers. From the lone, shadowy opening at the far end of the massive arena, they came—an endless swarm of armored, hive-minded insectoids. The sound alone felt like it could split stone. The wave hit hard, crashing into the nearest barricade team without pause.
"Support formation! Constant fire! Don't let up!"
Li forced himself to his feet. While others scrambled back to shield the medics and the wounded, Guardians like Li stepped forward, unshaken, ready. He braced the cannon on his shoulder—he knew its weight now, knew its power—and locked in his aim.
As the first wave of insectoids broke through the frontline, Li opened fire.
The blast roared through them. Limbs and shells burst apart, and for a moment, the advancing swarm slowed under the hail of destruction.
But it didn't last.
Larger units burst through next—heavily armored brutes that barely staggered under the fire. Li dove back just in time to avoid being crushed, hitting the ground hard. His head spun again. Everything around him blurred—shouts, sparks, the stench of burning metal.
The Guardians were being overwhelmed. Even the heavy gunners were buckling, pulled back toward the center of the arena as the swarm pushed forward, relentless and wild.
Screams echoed around him. Steel met claw. The formation was collapsing.
Li had somehow avoided the worst of the hits—just barely—but now the air changed. A low, thick buzzing filled the arena.
Then he saw them.
Flying bombers, massive insectoids with glistening sacks under their bellies, swooped down from above. With shrill screeches, they sprayed streams of a thick, corrosive liquid that splashed across the battlefield.
The acid hissed on contact, melting through armor like it was paper. Li's own gear began to sizzle and smoke.
"Hey! There's no gas in the air here!" someone shouted through the comms.
"Hold the line! Reinforcements are inbound! Keep it strong!" the captain roared over the chaos.
Li kept firing, cannonball after cannonball, his voice rising with every shot. Shouting—not in fear, but in fury. Each blast was a refusal to fall. Around him, the others were the same—burned, bleeding, nearly broken, but still pushing forward through the pain.
The acid splashed nearby, hissing as it ate into the stone. A few drops struck Li, but his armor held. He gritted his teeth, locked his stance, and fired again.
Then—crack—a heavy blow slammed into him.
He barely had time to look up before it hit.
His body snapped back from the punch, stars bursting across his vision. But before he could hit the ground, a bright light filled the arena above.
The rescue squad had arrived.
Descending fast, weapons drawn, formation tight.