The Puzzle Completes

The underground chamber was a cacophony of fear and rising panic. The fourth explosion rocked the very foundation, the stone walls trembling violently as dust and small bits of debris rained down from the ceiling. People screamed, clutching each other tightly as the ground beneath them felt like it might give way at any moment.

"It's going to collapse!" someone shouted, their voice shrill with terror. "We're all going to die down here!"

The nuns moved quickly through the chaos, their faces pale but resolute as they tried to maintain some semblance of order. Sister Marianne raised her hands, her voice carrying over the rising hysteria.

"Everyone, please, stay calm!" she urged, though her own voice betrayed the strain of holding herself together. "The chamber is reinforced. It was built to withstand this. We are safe here!"

Another explosion rocked the chamber, this one accompanied by a faint, muffled roar that seemed to emanate from above. The sound of gunfire, faint but persistent, echoed through the stone. It was a rhythmic, thunderous beat, like distant drums of war.

"It's them! The monsters are breaking through!" a young man cried, his voice trembling as he pointed toward the iron doors at the top of the staircase. "They're going to get in!"

"No, they won't!" Sister Lydia snapped, her voice firmer than anyone had expected. "Something—or someone—is keeping them at bay. Have faith!"

But the words did little to soothe the terrified crowd. The tension in the chamber was palpable, a suffocating weight that pressed down on everyone. Parents clutched their children, whispering reassurances they barely believed themselves. Elderly men and women huddled together, their faces etched with fear and resignation.

The nuns moved among them, offering calming words and gentle touches, though their own hearts raced with uncertainty.

"Pray," Sister Amelia said softly, kneeling beside a group of children who were crying into their mothers' arms. "Pray for strength, for courage. Whoever is fighting above us is giving their all to protect us. We must honor that by staying strong."

The faint sound of gunfire grew louder for a moment, then faded again. Each burst, though distant, sent ripples of fear through the chamber.

Sister Marianne glanced toward the iron doors, her mind racing. What was happening up there? Who was holding back the tide? And how much longer could they last?

Another explosion rumbled through the stone, shaking loose a large chunk of the ceiling. It crashed to the ground with a deafening thud, sending a new wave of screams through the chamber.

"QUIET!" Sister Lydia's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. The room fell into a tense silence, save for the faint sobs of a child.

She softened her tone, taking a deep breath. "Panic will not help us. Whoever is up there is still fighting, still holding them back. We must believe in them."

The people exchanged nervous glances, their fear still evident but tempered by her words.

"And remember," Sister Amelia added, her voice soothing, "we are still here. We are still alive. That means someone is protecting us. Hold on to that hope."

The chamber settled into a tense quiet, the muffled gunfire and distant explosions the only sounds that broke the stillness.

But in every heart, fear and hope waged a silent war. Each explosion, each rumble of the foundation, felt like a ticking clock, counting down to a moment none of them dared imagine.

The air inside the ruined building was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burned flesh. SABER-1 stood near a shattered window, his massive frame a stark silhouette against the flickering fires outside. Below, the Extractants surged relentlessly, their guttural cries echoing through the ravaged streets as they clawed at the building, desperate to reach him. He had their attention, and now almost all of the Extractants were focused on him, the Cathedral basically empty.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

His MK99 barked in steady rhythm, each shot precise and deliberate. The creatures crumpled under the onslaught, piling at the base of the structure like grotesque offerings to a vengeful god. Yet for every one that fell, more took its place, their endless numbers clawing at the edges of his resolve.

He tapped a control on his wrist, his voice calm and collected despite the chaos around him.

"56th, 140th, 9th, status update. ETA to my position?"

For a moment, there was only static. Then the channel crackled, and the voice of Captain Marek from the 56th Tank Battalion came through, strained and weary.

"This is the 56th," Marek reported. "We're about two hours out. We've been forced to stop for refueling and rearming. We're running on fumes out here."

"Understood," SABER-1 replied without hesitation. There was no frustration, no impatience—just acknowledgment.

He fired another shot, a hulking, insectoid Extractant collapsing mid-leap, its acidic blood splattering the rubble below. His aim shifted seamlessly to the next target, his movements as precise as a machine.

"140th, 9th, respond," he said over the comms.

The silence stretched longer this time, punctuated only by the relentless gunfire and the distant roar of explosions. Finally, the voice of Commander Harlow from the 9th Infantry Division broke through, grim but steady.

"This is the 9th. We're still regrouping with the 140th. Estimate five hours to your position."

Another pause, and then the voice of Major Lutz from the 140th came through, echoing the same ETA.

"Confirmed," SABER-1 responded. His voice remained as even as ever, despite the daunting news.

"Recommendation," he continued, his tone never wavering, "deploy at least ten up-armored Mammoth Personnel Carriers. Ensure they're fitted for heavy assault and fortified with anti-Extractant countermeasures."

The line went silent again as his words settled, the weight of his suggestion sinking in.

Back in the control room, the personnel exchanged confused glances, their earlier panic replaced with a growing sense of unease.

"Ten Mammoths?" one officer muttered, leaning closer to their console. "What the hell does he need those for?"

"They're designed to transport survivors under heavy fire," another analyst noted, her brow furrowed. "But why would he request them unless—"

Her eyes widened as realization dawned, and she turned toward the Colonel. "He found survivors."

The room fell into stunned silence. The murmurs and whispers started almost immediately, a mixture of disbelief and awe rippling through the control room.

"He's holding a position this deep behind enemy lines because he's protecting someone," an officer said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Colonel's eyes narrowed as he stared at the live feed from SABER-1's drone. The relentless gunfire, the precision of his movements, the way he led the horde away from that iron door—all of it clicked into place.

"Survivors," the Colonel said quietly, his voice heavy with both amazement and a newfound respect. "That son of a bitch found survivors."

Back in the ruins, SABER-1 switched to his plasma pistol as his MK99 clicked empty. The humming bolts tore through the next wave of Extractants, their screams echoing through the streets as their bodies burned and crumpled.

"Two hours, five hours," he muttered to himself, his visor reflecting the chaos outside. "More than enough time."

He didn't falter, didn't slow. With every methodical shot and calculated movement, SABER-1 held the line, knowing that lives depended on him standing firm against the tide.

And as he gunned down another wave of Extractants, he whispered to himself, barely audible over the chaos:

"They're not dying today."

Icarus sat in the corner of the command room, her arms crossed tightly across her chest as she stared at the live feed of SABER-1. The relentless precision of his movements and the calmness in his voice had always been his trademarks, yet now, as she watched him mow down wave after wave of Extractants, she felt an unfamiliar mix of emotions boiling within her.

"Damn it," she whispered under her breath, her nails digging into her palms. Her voice trembled, frustration and guilt colliding. "How could I have doubted him? Him, of all people."

She shook her head, fighting the sting of tears. For almost 11 years, she had flown for SABER-1, the man she trusted with her life. He had saved her more times than she could count, always pulling off the impossible. And yet, in those long, agonizing hours of watching and waiting for his move, she had doubted him.

Her hands clenched tighter. "I'm such an idiot," she muttered, her voice cracking. "How could I have so little faith in him?"

She forced herself to look back at the screen, her jaw tightening as she watched him cut through the Extractants like they were nothing. Despite everything, despite the odds stacked against him, he stood firm.

As she struggled to keep her emotions in check, a voice broke through the tense silence of the command room.

"What's that?"

Icarus's head snapped up, her watery eyes darting to the screen.

The drone feed zoomed in on a massive, bloated Extractant lumbering toward the building where SABER-1 was stationed. Its grotesque form heaved with every step, its translucent, stretched skin pulsing with a sickly yellow glow.

"It's a bloat-carrier," someone muttered, their voice tinged with horror. "One of the explosive types."

The room went silent as the creature picked up speed, its bloated body jiggling grotesquely. Then, with a sickening roar, it slammed into the side of the building where SABER-1 stood.

The impact shook the entire structure, chunks of debris falling away as a deafening BOOM erupted. Flames and smoke billowed out from the point of collision, and the feed trembled as the drone adjusted.

"Oh my god," Icarus whispered, her heart leaping into her throat.

But it wasn't over.

From the haze of smoke and fire, another bloat-carrier emerged, this one even larger than the first. Its skin bulged and stretched, veins of sickly green glowing like molten lava beneath the surface. It let out a guttural roar before hurling itself into the already weakened structure.

BOOM!

The building groaned in protest, massive cracks spidering through its walls as more debris rained down.

"Are there more?" an officer asked, his voice trembling.

The drone feed confirmed their worst fears.

A third bloat-carrier charged into view, this one accompanied by several smaller Extractants that seemed to guard its flanks. Like a battering ram, it barreled into the building with terrifying force. The structure buckled.