The snow was black with blood by morning.
What remained were heaps of gore, frozen sinew, shattered chitin, and bones picked clean by drones long since switched to autopilot. The Shack’s outer turrets were scorched and silent. Piles of monsters formed layered barricades.
It was Day Two. And the bastards were still coming.
Kenji sat in his chair like a warlord on a melting throne. His breath fogged against the cold creeping back through the Shack’s heating. He nursed a half-eaten can of Shack’s Bone Broth Bloodbath Stew?, now congealed. The can clanked against a tray of other half-finished meals.
Metal creaked. Something outside screamed. Alarms trilled—they'd been wailing for hours.
Lira stumbled in, coat half-zipped, boots soaked, and her eyes wide. “Razor’s down. One of those tank-class bastards skewered him through the torso. Stitch is working on him, but he’s not waking up.”
Kenji took a sip, grimaced, and said nothing.
Lights flickered. Heat dipped. The alarm paused—then restarted.
He stood. “Nap time’s over.”
[DEFENSE LOG: CONTINUOUS ASSAULT – 43 HOURS, 11 MINUTES]
The second wave came like a living avalanche. Dozens of malformed beasts surged from the northern ridge—many missing eyes or limbs, yet faster than the ones before. Something was driving them mad. A dense, reddish fog poured from their mouths as they shrieked and clawed through their own dead just to reach the perimeter.
“Spore variant,” Lira said, her voice tight. “New strain—some kind of berserker effect.”
Kenji didn’t even blink. “Then burn the air.”
A pair of Combat Drones buzzed low over the Shack, their tanks loaded with napalm mist. The moment the cloud ignited, a wall of fire swept across the snowfield, catching twenty beasts mid-charge. Their screams barely pierced the wind before the napalm fused flesh to ice.
But more came.
A serpent-thing with crystal shards embedded in its skull slammed into the southern trench. Its body vibrated with unstable energy, then detonated—sending chunks of barricade and melted turret parts scattering in every direction. Two Astarions were caught in the blast. One dragged himself back toward the wall, armor melted across his back.
[ASTARION UNIT: VICE – CRITICAL DAMAGE – PULSE CORE DESTABILIZED]
Kenji swore under his breath. “Lira, override his limiter. Get him moving or get him gone.”
“I can’t!” she shouted. “He’s locked in recovery mode!”
Kenji tapped the console, rerouting energy to the fallback line. “Then wake up someone who can cover his slot.”
Flanksteak’s voice came through, unshaken. “Deploying Reaper and Drift. Eastern barricade holding for now.”
Kenji leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Tell them not to just hold it. Make the bastards fear it.”
Outside, the ground was a stew of slush, gore, and half-dissolved creatures. Turrets overheated. Drones began failing mid-patrol. And the divine current running through the Shack pulsed erratically, strained from overload.
[INTERNAL HEAT RESERVES – 22%]
“Shut down gym, lounge, anything nonessential,” Kenji said. “Even my damn bath.”
The Shack shook again. Kenji tapped through diagnostics while outside, two drones dove into a swarm of centipede-things. Brisket crushed one beneath his knees, elbow through skull.
Flanksteak’s voice: “Mass convergence at Grid Theta. Trench line’s about to give.”
“Let it,” Kenji said. “Chisel’s there for a reason.”
The charges went off. Ice cracked, guts flew. Chisel didn’t flinch.
A Tier-4 brute with spine-blades leapt from the smoke. Flanksteak caught it mid-air and crushed it.
Saeko’s voice came sharp: “Turret 12B is glitching—overheating and misfiring.”
“Reroute coolant,” Kenji snapped. “If it sparks, blow it before it shoots us instead.”
[BUILDER UNIT EN ROUTE]
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Elyra burst in, frostbitten and bleeding. “East bay’s out. Core lockers are slag. I pulled two from a wreck but one’s cracked.”
“Use the trader cache,” Kenji growled. “I didn’t gut a slaver convoy for display pieces.”
She nodded, panting, and limped off.
Outside—detonation. Gore in the air. A new Tier-5 lizard-beast emerged, spewing flame.
Chisel took a hit and screamed—his first sound in weeks. Then silence.
[BIOMASS CORE OVERCLOCKED – 94%]
“Lira.”
“Yes, Master?”
“Shut down everything east of the kitchen. I’m not wasting heat on visitors and slave bunks.”
Another quake. Brisket’s feed: “We’ve got a jumper. Type unknown. Wings and a tail. It’s corrosive.”
Kenji barely blinked. “Viper-Five. Melt it before it pukes.”
Drones screamed overhead and dropped napalm. The jumper vaporized mid-flight.
No cheers.
Just movement.
The third wave began without warning—no warning cry, no seismic alert, just a tremor that rolled under the Shack like something ancient had stirred beneath the snow.
“Something’s tunneling,” Lira whispered, staring at the seismic readout.
Before Kenji could reply, the floor under the western barricade collapsed.
Out of the churned ice burst a massive, centipede-like horror plated in armor and dripping with acidic sludge. It reared up, screeching, and spat a stream of molten fluid that arced over the outer wall.
The western turret disintegrated.
“Direct hit,” Saeko barked. “Meltdown class—acidic burn confirmed. We’ve got hull compromise.”
Kenji slammed his fist on the console. “Flanksteak, I want that thing buried. Astarions, flank and bleed it out.”
Elyra stumbled, eyes wide as she backed away from the blast doors. “There’s more coming up from below. Smaller ones—fast.”
A swarm of scorpion-sized creatures surged out of the cracks. Two Builder Units went dark. One worker screamed before vanishing under a wave of slicing legs.
Lira tried to route auto-fire. “System can’t keep up. The swarm’s throwing off the divine sync—turret link is desyncing!”
“Manual override,” Kenji snapped. “Surge the floor array—use divine feedback. I don’t care if it scorches the glyphs.”
The floor lit up. A low hum gave way to a crackling boom. The swarm jerked, twitched, and then went still. The Shack’s floor dimmed.
Kenji leaned back with a grunt. “System’s bleeding out. Any more surprises?”
Another impact rocked the southern wall. Barrage’s feed lit up with warnings.
[ALERT: ASTARION BARRAGE – STATUS RED – ARMOR INTEGRITY 41%]
“He’s pinned,” Mirelle said, clutching the console. “Something’s got him.”
On-screen, a hulking ape-shaped mutant was hammering down with stone-plated fists. Each strike dented metal, bent walls.
“Hit it with everything,” Kenji said flatly. “Now.”
Four drones and two turret lines answered. The creature vaporized in a blast of concentrated plasma. Barrage rolled free, limping but alive.
Inside, the Shack’s lights flickered again.
[CRIMSON CORE STABILIZING – BIOMASS FLOW REDUCED TO CRITICAL RATE]
“Elyra, status on internal biomass?”
She hesitated. “Two cores left. Maybe three minutes of sustained burn.”
Kenji sighed. “Then make it count.”
Elyra collapsed near the ration crate. Mirelle yanked her up. “You rest when you’re dead. Move.”
“Mirelle,” Kenji warned. “She’s still on her feet. That’s good enough.”
Lira was pale, her hands shaking. Kenji glanced at her. “West flank?”
“Holding. Drift’s still mobile. Biomass is almost gone.”
“Triage priority: Brisket, Razor, Chisel. Everyone else fights until they drop.”
“Yes, Master.”
In med-bay, Razor’s chest was split open. Stitch worked in silence, soaked in blood up to the elbows.
“If I had ten more minutes, I could fix the spine node.”
Kenji’s voice was cold. “Shield him. He needs to stand, not walk.”
Outside, Elyra limped past a drone dragging a corpse. Mirelle shoved a fresh canister into her hands.
Saeko leaned against a bulkhead, one hand to her ribs. “Cracked. Two, maybe three.”
“You still mobile?”
“Yeah.”
“Then get to logistics. If it blinks wrong, shout.”
Lira whispered, “Should I prep evacuation?”
Kenji grunted. “Calm your tits. We’re gonna be fine.”
She flinched. “Yes, Master.”
The lights in the Shack’s command module dimmed again. Divine glow faded from the walls. One panel hissed with static as flickers of red danced across the system HUD.
Lira jolted. “The Crimson Core's pulse is thinning. We’ve pushed the biomass capacity past the safe margin.”
Kenji didn’t move.
Another alert. The pod’s divine seal faltered—Chisel’s chamber flickered with warning glyphs. A frost layer crept along his armor as the regeneration cycle stalled.
Kenji leaned back. “Seal the pod. If the system won’t finish, it can at least preserve him.”
“Are we really pushing them this hard?” Mirelle whispered. “What if they—”
The floor shook. Another boom rocked the frame.
That’s when Flanksteak’s voice came over the intercom.
“Requesting command authorization.”
Kenji raised a brow. “Go on.”
“Subject: Drift. He wants permission to trigger internal detonation if his flank collapses.”
The room went quiet.
Kenji tapped the desk, once. “Denied.”
“He says it’s more efficient. One trigger, one crater. We can rebuild.”
Kenji stared at the ceiling like he was listening for gods. Then muttered, “If he’s feeling brave, tell him to start by unplugging the vending machine.”
Flanksteak replied, “Understood.”
Another pause.
“Sir?” Lira asked softly.
Kenji stood up, grabbed a coat from the rack, and walked toward the back corridor.
“Where are you going?” Saeko called.
“Inspection.”
He passed darkened rooms. Snow leaked in through cracked seals. The Shack, once humming with warmth and food, now felt like a tomb laced with silent conduits.
He stopped near the back pod.
Inside, Chisel was frozen. Steam hissed from cracked armor. The system was barely keeping his vitals stable.
Kenji exhaled. “Should’ve asked for a beachside truck stop.”
Then turned back toward the command room, just as the first noble banners appeared over the ridge.
Astarion Casualties:
-
Razor – Tried to tank a monster the size of a dump truck. Spine disagreed.
-
Chisel – Cryo-podded mid-scream. Still terrifying.
-
Vice – Armor said “nope” and bailed.
-
Brisket – Technically alive. Functionally furniture.
Drone Losses:
-
12 Builder Units – Heroically flung themselves at acid puddles.
-
8 Combat Drones – One tried to wrestle a centipede. Lost.
-
4 Napalm Drones – Self-immolated with honor. The snow will remember them.
Structural Damage:
-
Outer Turrets 12B, 6C, and West Rampart – Rest in shrapnel.
-
Southern trench – Now officially a crater (with extra seasoning).
-
Pod bays – Still work-ish, probably haunted.
System Load:
-
Biomass: 6% (Kenji calls this 'thriving').
-
Heat Grid: 19% (just like Kenji’s patience).
-
Divine Sync: Held together by duct tape and bad vibes.
Conclusion:
The Shack still stands. And Kenji hasn’t rage-quit life. So technically, we win.