Druhalith (The Season of Resilience)

Day 306

70 days since my arrival

With that notification, the implant hummed to life. The interface blinked briefly before stabilizing. Everything was operational.

I let out a quiet exhale, though the gesture felt meaningless. This body was merely a vessel, it was nothing but a nerve ending of my vast consciousness.

Drones shifted in the dark of tunnels as the final bio-fabricator churned, birthing the last combat drone. There was no biomass left to harvest everything I could use everything had been stripped down for the final push. The countdown to the assault had already begun.

In the hours before the operation, I guided the final contingent of surface scouts south, away from the doomed sanctuary. These scouts were modified to carry architects and harvester eggs and would ensure a faster creation of a new sanctuary when we found the lava tubes. I watched their movements through the network, guiding them toward distant caverns untouched by war.

It was difficult to leave. The sanctuary had been home, no matter how brief its existence. Every crevice, every tunnel, was etched into the fabric of my mind. Yet, I knew its destruction was inevitable.

I took nothing but memories.

The journey to the surface was slow. I moved through the furthest tunnel, dispensing heat to mimic the vacuum of the surface. Emerging onto the barren surface, I blended with the landscape's organic plating shifting to the grey, scorched terrain. Above me, the vacuum was alight with orbital engines.

Their drones drifted like carrion birds, endlessly scanning for signs of life. They were still watching, still bombarding the surface with relentless artillery. I remained still, blending into the rocky terrain until the last scout vanished beyond the horizon.

With that final task complete, I shifted my focus south. The drones under my command moved in unison, following pre-laid paths toward the Southern Hemisphere. It would take time. By my estimates, seventy to eighty days at the best speed.

Everything was in place. Sub-minds synchronized across the hive, and the enemy above continued their bombardment, unaware of what lay beneath their feet.

Burrowers ruptured the ground in all directions, rippling like a living scar across the landscape. Limbs of raw muscle and bone propelled them forward, mandibles gnashing the air.

Silent predators of soil and stone, they surged forward, swarming toward their targets, dragging soldiers into the earth. Limbs thrashed as they were devoured mid-collapse, their armour crushed like paper by serrated mandibles.

A column of seven armoured vehicles idling near the sanctuary’s edge had burrowers latched onto them, clinging to any exposed surface before detonating in unison. The explosions ripped through their hulls, scattering twisted metal across the landscape.

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Infantry patrols scrambled in response, but their retreating vehicles met the same fate. Five more detonations blossomed in the distance, cutting off escape routes, my advancing forces tore apart their infantry.

Burrowers spread out, hunting down isolated clusters of soldiers. Scattered skirmishes erupted as the enemy regrouped, attempting to counter the assault. Some splinter groups managed to intercept and destroy smaller groups, but the majority pressed on, pushing deeper toward their base.

The enemy’s retaliation was swift. Orbital cannons, once cautious, turned reckless. Massive bombardments scorched the surface, searing both friend and foe alike. Their drones descended from orbit, swarming across the battlefield in pursuit of my drones, firing at any burrower they could spot.

Suicide drones rose from hidden caverns propelling themselves toward the enemy’s aerial forces. In the vacuum of the moon’s thin atmosphere, they glided like shadows, colliding with enemy drones in bursts of light.

A deadly dance unfolded overhead

Enemy drones wove through the sky, dodging and firing in rapid bursts. Suicide drones pursued relentlessly, detonating on impact. For each drone I lost, another emerged from the tunnels below.

More reinforcements arrived from the enemy’s side. Armoured columns rolled across the surface, firing on advancing burrowers. Some swarms were obliterated, but others overwhelmed their targets, tearing through infantry and vehicles alike.

In response, I directed the burrowers to converge and charge from all directions. The enemy, recognizing the threat, attempted to break through the encirclement—only to be met with destruction. Burrowers latched onto their vehicles, detonating in unison and reducing armoured transports to twisted wreckage. The surviving infantry fared no better, torn apart in the chaos. There would be no clean kills here—only the ruthless efficiency of the hive.

In places where the enemy gained ground, burrowers ambushed from below, detonating beneath their feet. The battlefield twisted into chaos.

They began to fall back, retreating toward their base. But there was no safe haven. Burrowers chased them from below, while suicide drones harried them from above. Infantry and vehicles were pinned between two fronts—one gnawing at their heels, the other raining death from the sky.

Their base defences responded swiftly. Newly constructed turrets, supported by infantry and armoured units, moved to reinforce the perimeter—cutting down several waves of drones, both small and large. Orbital fire followed closely, striking with precision to provide cover for their ground forces.

Clusters of them began to converge on the enemy’s main base, burrowing toward the perimeter. Turrets whirled to life, spewing rounds into the advancing swarm. Armoured vehicles fanned out, creating firing lines alongside surviving infantry.

Their forces thinned, but they stood firm.

It wouldn’t be enough.

Beneath the surface, burrowers erupted from hidden tunnels, breaching under their base and detonating as they emerged. Explosions rippled through their defences, but the enemy's warships retaliated without hesitation. Focused orbital strikes collapsed many tunnels, forcing me to withdraw the surviving burrowers before more could be lost.

Their orbital fire became more reckless. Explosions scorched the landscape, dangerously close to their forces.

I wanted their base levelled. If I was committing to this assault, I would see it through to the end.

The second wave of suicide drones launched, streaking toward their defences. They ascended rapidly, weaving through fire and enemy drones as they closed the distance. Many were cut down mid-flight, but enough slipped through the cracks—diving headlong into the defenders.

Explosions rippled across the battlefield. Turrets shattered, armoured vehicles crumpled under the blasts, and scores of infantry were torn apart in the aftermath.

The debris field thickened, shrouding the battlefield. Visibility dropped as jagged fragments rained from the sky, a by-product of the aerial skirmishes overhead.

Still, the burrowers surged on.

The burrowers were numerous. More than any drone I had ever deployed before. They poured from the tunnels in waves, a true swarm. Even as they fell to artillery fire, more emerged, gnawing away at the enemy’s outer defences.

We hadn’t even reached the heart of their base, yet the devastation was widespread. Every outpost, every patrol, was under siege.

I guided what I could in the shifting chaos of battle, processing the flood of sensory data through the sub-minds. The war sub-mind handled redirecting drones, avoiding collapsed tunnels, and funnelling forces to where they were needed most.

The battle continued, stretching into the first thirty minutes. From the etheric plane, I watched impassively.

The architects below were already preparing for the next phase. Suicide drones refitted for maximum yield, and combat variants armed with salvaged weapons—these would be the final wave.

Urgent reports streamed in—fast-moving armoured columns approached from the east and north. That was fine.

That was fine this would be my battle for sanctuary.