Chapter 163. Tunneling Shield
Clinging to a cliff face for a brief respite, Charles' eyes widened in terror as he watched the monstrous entity descend. The creature's size rivaled that of a tunnel-boring machine.
As the entity grew closer, Charles picked up more details. An amalgamation of black chitinous plates, purple tendons, and viscous, bloodied tissues, the creature bore a striking resemblance to a colossal tunnel-boring machine
Insectile legs the size of small houses protruded from its sides and gripped the surrounding rock walls as the Shielder scaled downward. Below its mass, compound eyes glowed like spotlight beams at the bottom of a fathomless abyss.
The remaining surviving mantises arched their glowing abdomens upward and formed a lotus-like formation as they clung to the leviathan creature.
A quivering, whale-like hum sounded from the web of living tissues on the Shielder. Charles could feel the emotions underlying the sounds. The entity was mourning over the death of the mantises. Emerging from n0v@lbin☆, this material harbors clandestine details.
Gulp.
Charles swallowed a mouthful of dry saliva. The newcomer had yet to make a move, but an icy chill raced down his spine whenever its compound eyes scanned over him.
The appearance of the Shielder didn't just physically shroud them; the dread it imposed also loomed over the hearts and hopes of everyone present.
"Governor, didn't the Divine Light Order mention that there were only some indigenous flying creatures? What in the world is that thing?" a terrified helicopter pilot shouted at Charles.
The same question plagued Charles' mind. Why had this creature come out to hinder their advance just when they were so close to the surface?
However, Charles knew it wasn't the time for him to question and lament over his circumstances. Regardless of what that thing was, he had to get it out of the way. If they retreated now, no one knew how long it would take to assemble another sizable aerial fleet to make their ascent.
He had waited far too long—he was done waiting.
"Everyone, ascend!" With a flap of his wings, Charles surged upward toward the Shielder.
Just when the distance between Charles and the Shielder had decreased to twenty or so meters, the mantises clinging to the surface of the leviathan monster fluttered their transparent wings once more. The vibrations of their wings morphed into an understandable subterranean language.
"Surface dweller, haven't you caused enough disaster upon all species?"
Charles stopped mid-flight and hovered. "I don't know what you're talking about! I live above! I'm just going home!'
"Surface dweller, you can't be from above. Your kind above has vanished with the disaster!"
Charles darted toward the nearest helicopter and roared in fury, "What are you doing?! We're at the most critical juncture, and you're fleeing?"
The roar of the spinning rotor blades drowned out most other sounds. Over the din, the pilot shouted at the top of his lungs, "Look below! Governor Swann had signaled for us to retreat. We have to turn back!"
Hearing the pilot's words, Charles looked down and noticed the steamships beneath had formed the semaphore for retreat with their searchlights.
While Charles was questioning the helicopter pilot before him, the remaining helicopters had already descended. Now, all that was left hovering near the crevice's entrance was him and twenty over airships.
Success had seemed plausible earlier, but with their diminished numbers, it appeared to be a suicide mission if they were to take the monstrous being head-on.
Under normal circumstances and a reasonable assessment of their current state, the mission could be considered a failure.
However, Charles was unwilling to give up.
He parted his monstrous maws and roared to the airships hovering around him. "Your Pope has ordered you to follow my commands. Will you obey without questions?"
"Yes!" The disciples erupted in a unified voice.
Charles struggled with his next step. There was one final, risk-laden strategy he had devised. Yet, it was one that he found hard to impose on the aerial fleet to carry through.
However, the thought of the surface world being just within reach further steeled his resolve. A look of unwavering determination settled into Charles' eyes.
"Gather all explosives. The plan is...."
Several minutes later, the remaining fleet of twenty-odd airships started to move and inched toward the edge of the rift.
A brutal aerial battle unfolded. The Shielder's scythes lashed out and punctured any air balloon within its reach and sent the attached vessels plunging disastrously to the waters beneath.
The disciples had prepared themselves for the impending attack. Every crew member aboard the airships held a barrel of explosives in their hands, their gazes eyeing the Shielder's thick, column-like legs as they drew near.
The creature's scythes danced in the air, seeking to slash anything within their reach.
However, the disciples had deliberately shortened the fuses on the explosives. The moment a tendril ventured too close, they would decisively detonate the explosives without hesitation.
Every explosion sent a shudder through Charles. Each blast was a reminder that a life had been lost—a death that was commanded by him.
"I don't care! I'm too close for me to turn back now! I have to return! I've waited long enough!" Charles screamed hysterically, his eyes ablaze with an intense—almost maniac determination.