The air split open with the high-pitched whistle of approaching living mortars.
From the sulfur-crusted ravines three miles north of Gate Seven, hundreds of bloated, pulsating siege-slugs—grafted directly onto the armored dorsal plates of the advancing chimeric horde—tightened their muscular sphincters in rhythmic all at once.
THWUMP-THWUMP!
Dark green globules of packed gastric acid, each the size of an oil drum and coated in a sticky rich fat membrane, arced high over the badlands before raining down in a devastating curved barrage across Gate Seven’s outer curtain wall.
“Incoming acid-burning ordnance!” Valerie Koslov roared, throwing two cadets flat against the stone floor of the low roof wall. “Brace for impact!”
The acid shells struck with bone-shaking violence.
SPLAAAASH! CRZZZZZZZZT!
Where the bio-mortar rounds hit the concrete coping, the prestressed stone boiled. It dissolved into a foul, bubbling broth of skin-burning foam that released dense clouds of choking, yellow vapor. A spray of acid splashed across the armored face of the western foundation apron. It hissed viciously against the heavy steel iron rods.
