In the command center, more than a dozen technicians turned at once and began carrying out a series of new orders.
Renault put on his communications headset and called the commanders of three divisions in succession.
Supply deployment lists came pouring from the printers, and the green standby markers on the map began to move.
Wu Heng switched off his microphone, straightened up, and looked at the glaring sea of red on the screen, along with the still-blinking green dots marking the positions of hunter squads.
There were not many of those green dots, scattered across the vast disaster zone like fireflies in the dark.
But they were still moving, still fighting, still lighting up new coordinates.
Several hours later, on the outskirts of Boston.
Sam gripped a modified shotgun, his back against an overturned truck, listening to the sporadic gunfire coming from the ruins ahead.
Five meters to his right, Dean used half a concrete barrier for cover as he swiftly changed magazines.
"Team Three reporting: eastern side cleared. Two kills." A voice came through the squad channel.
"There's still resistance on the western side. Suspected squad commander. Requesting support."
Sam took a deep breath and was about to rise—
The sky suddenly blazed bright.
Blue-white radiance, as fierce as sunlight, descended in an overwhelming torrent.
It was the energy glow released when angels gathered on a massive scale—like fallen stars rising once more, bearing the crushing pressure of judgment and destruction.
Above Boston, dozens of blue streaks tore through the clouds and dove toward the city in combat formation.
Bartholomew's main force had arrived!
Sam looked up at that blinding light, his throat tightening.
He was not afraid. His fear had been exhausted after he watched the first city be flattened. All he felt was a heavy, almost