The etheric plane churned violently as I extended my intent, testing the boundaries of my psyche with every probing thought. The anomaly, a perfect sphere remained impervious to all attempts to breach or alter its structure. No matter the angle of my approach or the force of my will, it held unbroken, resolute.
It was infuriatingly enigmatic. Its presence didn’t block the etheric plane’s chaotic energies from surging into my location, nor did it interfere with my connection to the swarm. It simply was, an unyielding barrier whose purpose I could not discern.
Hours bled together as I drifted in the storm, my efforts focused entirely on unravelling the sphere’s mystery. Reports from the sub-minds flowed into my consciousness, a persistent hum of information that demanded my attention. Yet, I relegated them to the periphery of my thoughts, unable to focus on the physical world while this enigma loomed.
Again and again, I tested the sphere’s resilience, probing its surface for weaknesses or inconsistencies. Each failure only fuelled my determination, though it drained my energy with every attempt. Between these futile efforts, I turned to a more pressing task, replicating the techniques of the Seven.
The memory of that battle remained sharp and seared into the layers of my consciousness. Their mastery over the etheric plane had been devastating, their ability to shape and weaponize its chaos leaving me bruised and broken, both physically and mentally. Yet, their techniques were unlike anything I’d encountered, and if I were to survive future confrontations, I needed to understand them.
Drawing on the fragmented recollections of their attacks, I began to experiment. I mimicked the way their strikes had coalesced, the way they had harnessed the wild energy of the plane and directed it with brutal precision. Each attempt was met with failure blasts of chaotic energy dispersed before they could take shape, or spiralled out of control, leaving me drained.
Still, I persisted. The Seven’s control over this volatile plane wasn’t just raw power, it was artistry. Every attack had been a blend of intent and precision, a harmony of chaos and control. My efforts lacked that harmony, my attempts clumsy and unfocused.
The sphere remained silent as I worked, an ever present reminder of my inadequacy. Was it observing me? Testing me? Or was it simply a mindless construct, indifferent to my struggle? The question gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, but I forced myself to push it aside.
Each failure taught me something new, a fleeting glimpse of understanding that brought me closer to replicating their techniques. I could feel the chaotic energy responding, bending ever so slightly to my will. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
Hours stretched into days then an eternity as I was drawn into my work, the etheric storm raging unabated around me, growing more chaotic with each attempt. The sub-minds reports grew more insistent, their voices cutting through the etheric haze.
The first stable layer of the tunnels had been breached. The realization struck like a jolt, breaking my focus. The battle had begun in earnest, and my absence from the physical plane could no longer be justified. Frustration gnawed at me as I withdrew my intent from the sphere, leaving its mysteries unsolved for now.
I turned my full awareness to the physical world, anchoring myself in the labyrinthine tunnels of the swarm. The etheric plane’s chaos faded into the background, replaced by the visceral reality of the conflict unfolding around me.
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The kill zones we had painstakingly designed were already springing to life. Explosives placed within the walls detonated with surgical precision, collapsing side tunnels and trapping small squads of the enemy. Choke points became death traps as heavies broke through hidden rooms and trapped the enemy, unleashing projectiles that fragmented on impact, tearing through enemy ranks and leaving devastation in their wake.
The first engagement zone was chaos incarnate. Enemy soldiers advanced in tightly coordinated squads, their tactics and heavier weapons and armour were impressive, their discipline unwavering. But they were fighting my swarm now, and my swarm did not falter.
Drones lunged from concealed alcoves, tearing into the enemy with claws and teeth. Explosions rocked the tunnels as suicide drones targeted critical choke points, collapsing sections of the passageways to funnel the invaders into predetermined routes.
Yet, for every enemy soldier who fell, more took their place. They adapted swiftly, deploying portable barriers for cover and wielding some form of energy weapon that, upon striking a drone, caused its internal structures to overheat and boil violently. Their ingenuity was a stark reminder of why they were such a threat.
The war mind fed me constant updates, its calculations streaming into my consciousness. It highlighted weak points in their formations and suggested tactical adjustments. I approved most of its strategies on instinct, trusting its precision, even as I refined its approach in real-time.
The construction mind, meanwhile, coordinated the reinforcement of secondary layers. New bio-fabricators were deployed deeper into the tunnels, churning out fresh waves of drones and defensive structures as the hours passed. The mid-level kill zones were constantly refined as the battle continued.
I could feel the tide of the battle shifting. The enemy’s advance slowed as they encountered increasingly brutal resistance. The swarm’s numbers were not infinite, but their ability to adapt to the changing tide of battle gave them an edge. Each fallen drone was recycled, its biomass repurposed into a new replacement.
Still, the enemy was relentless. They were testing the limits of our defences, probing for weaknesses.
I attempted to launch mental assaults, but their bulkier armour effectively dampened the impact of my efforts, rendering my attacks futile. They had yet to deploy any psionics in this battle, as I sensed no such presence among their ranks.
It was a battle of attrition, one I knew we could not sustain indefinitely. But that was never the plan. The first stable layer was a sacrificial ground, a trap designed to bleed them dry before they reached the heart of the swarm.
The battle fell into a grim and unrelenting rhythm, an endless cycle of violence that neither side seemed willing to break. They pushed forward with determination, and I pushed back with equal ferocity. Each gain they made was met with a calculated counterstrike, and each loss I suffered spurred a retaliatory act of destruction.
When they advanced, I would destabilize sections of the tunnels, collapsing carefully planned portions to crush their forces or separate them into more manageable groups. But they adapted quickly, shifting their tactics, bringing reinforced equipment, and reconfiguring their approach to bypass the collapsed areas.
Each surge was met with brutal resistance. My drones fought with relentless efficiency, their coordination guided by the sub-minds and bolstered by my oversight. Yet, for every enemy soldier felled, another seemed to take their place, their sheer numbers and advanced weaponry turning the tunnels into a meat grinder of flesh and metal.
Their assaults grew more calculated as they sought to exploit weaknesses in the swarm’s defences. Portable barriers allowed them to push forward with greater confidence, shielding their ranks from my ranged drones' projectile barrages boiled my drones from the inside out upon impact, forcing me to constantly adjust my tactics.
As the first stable layer began to collapse under the strain of the conflict, I felt a grim satisfaction as the enemy steadily withdrew their forces. The enemy had underestimated the cost of breaching our defences. The tunnels were their graveyard now, I ordered drones to drag our and their dead to be recycled and for every captured weapon and armour to be sent to the workshop for study.