[COMM-LINK ESTABLISHED: THE FOREMAN]
"They're not just drilling. They're poisoning the frequency."
I can hear it through the floor of the Nomad. It’s a sound like grinding teeth, but a thousand times louder. The Lithic Society isn't using dynamite; they've deployed a Bore-Slug. It’s a high-frequency vibration rig that shatters quartz on a molecular level.
TACTICAL THREAT: THE BORE-SLUG
Description: Hybrid industrial drill modified with a 'Hate-Tuner.'
Objective: To execute a Class III Sentinel.
Result: If the Sentinel dies, the "Quiet" collapses. The sympathetic pressure will vent through the nearest fissure, vaporizing everything within a 10-mile radius.
I looked at the Keely Fork in my hand. For 140 years, we’ve used these to soothe the Meadow. Now, I have to use it as a scalpel. If I don't reach the Sentinel before the Slug shatters its core, the 'Great Thaw' won't be a legend—it'll be the morning news.
I’m heading into the vent now. The Mark on my palm is no longer just glowing; it's bleeding a violet ichor that smells like ozone and ancient rain. I am the only thing the Meadow still trusts.
ERROR: INPUT TIMEOUT. AUTOMATIC OVERRIDE ACTIVE.

No comments:
Post a Comment