Undercurrents Stirring

Night once again shrouded the camp. Firelight reflected on every face, yet it could not dispel the accumulated heaviness. Days of repeated assaults and retreats had left everyone exhausted, but no one dared relax. They knew the enemy's evolution would not stop, while reinforcements had yet to arrive.

Palm leaned against a corner of the tent, hardly a page in the notebook in her arms left blank. Her fingers were marked red from prolonged writing, yet she continued recording every detail. Her handwriting might have been crooked, but every line was clear.

Morel sat cross-legged beside the fire, smoke slowly rising to conceal the fatigue on his face. He spoke softly. "The enemy's transport routes have been confirmed. Food for the larvae is being supplied steadily. That means the true core lies ahead."

Knov lowered his head, lightly rubbing the fabric at his cuff with his fingers. His voice was cold and hard. "I can keep setting up Portal Points, but after a few more uses, my stamina will reach its limit. We must choose our timing carefully."

Icarus spread out the map and compared Palm's recorded markings one by one. "Their passages are not disorderly. They have a clear hierarchy. The outer layer patrols, the middle layer transports supplies, and stronger presences are hidden in the core area. If we want to understand the whole picture, we must get closer to the core."

Linas leaned against a rock, the equipment on his back looking especially heavy. His breathing was rough as he said in a low voice, "The pressure on the outer perimeter is getting worse. With every assault, their formations become more orderly than before."

Knuckle raised his head, his gaze resolute. "No matter what, the outer perimeter has to hold. Otherwise, the core team will have no