Chapter 248: The Thing With Roots
The screaming echoed across the frozen mud of the killing ground.
It was a wet, ragged sound. The half-mutated Cultist clawed at his own face as thick, pale roots and jagged bone spurs violently ripped through his flesh.
Aegon Logcheville stood on the Vanguard wall. He gripped the silver communication crystal. He waited for Draven Mordis to deliver a flawless execution plan. He waited for the masked operative to dissect the monster into a simple mathematical problem.
The crystal remained dead silent.
"Draven," Aegon urged, watching the horrifying biological expansion. "It is mutating. Give me a target."
The silence stretched for another agonizing five seconds.
"The Cult did not make that thing, Aegon," Draven finally answered.
His voice was devoid of its usual cold, pragmatic certainty. It sounded heavy.
