The blinding stream of burning flames illuminated the artificial night sky. The heavy weapons operator stared coldly below, gripping the Heavy Explosive Rounds Cannon and pulling the trigger. His aim was precise. Information sent by frontline spies and preloaded data allowed the battlefield identification system to accurately outline the targets' positions—he knew this Explosive Rounds Cannon inside out, familiar with its rate of fire, firing accuracy, trigger pressure, and recoil. The observation and stabilization equipment mounted on the Heavy Explosive Rounds Cannon had already been activated, while his Power Armor locked his movements in place to prevent recoil from shaking him after firing. Explosive rounds poured downward like torrential rain. A few seconds later, he released the trigger and slipped back into the shadows, leaving the Mutants gathered in the plaza beneath the tower with only a fragmentation grenade whose fuse had been pulled.
With a tremendous blast and a faint, insignificant sigh, the prefabricated fragments and steel pellets scattered by the airburst grenade sliced through several Mutants' bodies. Blood and violence blossomed across the plaza once again. The order that had only just been stabilized teetered on the edge of collapse. Every unarmed Mutant tried to flee, and no matter how Black Bolt's Clan Allied Forces pleaded—or even violently blocked them—they could not stop the Kymellian Clan civilians from fleeing in panic. Screams and pain spread their wings like carrion birds and swooped down upon the crowd.
The Kymellian warrior kept waving and shouting, but the crush of bodies pushed him away from his original position. He raised the long face unique to the Kymellian Clan, a blend of horse and anteater, and glared furiously at the rose window burned through by intense heat overhead. Yet no matter what he did, he could not find any trace of the