The ground assault resumed.
The M109A7 Paladins, repositioned atop pre-cleared overpasses, fired in perfect synchronized intervals. Their barrels belched fire and smoke as 155mm shells soared skyward before arcing back toward the broken cityscape. The high-explosive rounds punched deep into the ruined earth, surrounding the wounded titan with thunderclaps of kinetic fury.
One shell landed directly onto the worm's exposed spinal ridge—what had once been a tough, armored shell now softened by continuous fire. The impact split the segment open with a fleshy crack, as if cleaving through cartilage.
A roar followed.
Not seismic. Not felt.
Heard.
For the first time since the battle began, the Colossal Worm screamed audibly—an earth-rattling, guttural howl that echoed across the Quezon skyline like a death knell.
In the cockpit of Echo-Four, Hargrave's face twitched. "Jesus Christ…"
"Focus!" Phillip's voice snapped over comms. "It's not dead until it stops moving!"
