Caleb yanked his combat knife free. The bisected Trench-Hound bled out over the uneven stone, thick black fluid pooling around Caleb's boots. He wiped the steel clean against his canvas trousers and sheathed the blade.
A concussive shockwave vibrated up through the soles of his boots.
BOOM.
The sheer kinetic force rattled his teeth. Dust shook loose from the biological canopy high above. Miles deep inside the mountain, the A and B rank elites were carving the true routes toward the central nexus. They possessed the heavy artillery mechs and high-yield explosives necessary to blast straight through the living bedrock. The lower-rank squads choked in their wake, forced to navigate the crumbling fault lines and agitated ecosystems left behind by the main offensive.
"Keep moving," Caleb ordered over the local squad link.
He stepped over the dead Hound. The narrow ravine spilled outward, opening into a colossal, multi-tiered chasm. The air tasted of hot sulfur and rotting copper.
