Chapter 14: Crumbling Defiance

Roen Kast hit the platform hard, his shoulder slamming into the cracked stone as the Kast fleet's plasma blast tore chunks from the dais. The air burned hot, thick with the acrid sting of scorched rock and ozone, the wind whipping it into his lungs until he choked. The Crack Void Hub loomed overhead, its jagged walls shuddering under the barrage—blue veins pulsing wild, like a beast clawing to stay upright. Ten hours, fifty-four minutes blinked on the system panel, a countdown mocking him as the ground bucked again, cracks splintering beneath his boots.

Liya sprawled beside him, her wild hair plastered with dust and blood, her bad leg twisted under her like a snapped branch. She gripped her longsword, knuckles white, but her grin was gone—replaced by a grimace as she clutched the gash seeping through her bandage. "Kid," she rasped, voice raw, "this ain't holding—hub or us." She swatted her arm, a weak, habitual twitch, and muttered, "Fuckin' bugs—wind's full of 'em."

Roen coughed, spitting blood and grit, his own side screaming where the last fight had torn him open. "No bugs," he growled, dragging her tighter behind the dais's crumbling edge. "Just Kast assholes with too many toys." He peeked up—the four ships circled like buzzards, 300 meters out, their cannons glowing red, spitting death in streaks that lit the mist like hellfire. The lead ship banked, its hull a black scar against the gray, hawk crest glaring down.

A blast screamed in, slamming the hub's wall. Stone cracked loud, blue light flaring as the energy absorbed the hit, but a chunk sheared off, tumbling into the void below with a hollow crash. The system chimed, cold and sharp:

System Notification: Structural integrity at 75%. Energy reserves: 62%. Aerial signatures holding at 280 meters—fleet adjusting for sustained bombardment.

"Seventy-five," Roen muttered, his breath hitching. "It's taking a beating." His architect's eye traced the hub—walls flexing, veins pulsing thicker, like muscle straining under a load too heavy to bear. It wasn't just stone anymore; it was alive, fighting back with every shudder, every flare of blue. He felt it in his gut—thump, thump—a defiance syncing with his own heartbeat.

"Kid, we're screwed," Liya said, her voice cracking as she hauled herself up, leaning on her sword. "That zap's down, leg's toast—how we outlasting this?" Her eyes flicked to the sky, wild and glassy, the bravado peeling away like old paint. She swatted her neck again, weaker, a reflex clinging to normalcy.

Roen's jaw tightened, his mind spinning through angles—crumbling dais, battered walls, no pulse for hours. "We don't outlast," he said, voice low and hard. "We outsmart. They're bombing blind—mist's thick, screwing their aim." He pointed at the fog choking the platform's edges. "We move—keep 'em guessing."

Liya blinked, then barked a laugh, ragged and sharp. "You're a damn lunatic—I love it." She staggered upright, wincing as her leg buckled, but waved off his grab. "I'm good, kid—let's dance."

Another blast ripped in, shredding the slope's remnants—rock sprayed, heat searing Roen's cheek as he dove left, dragging Liya to a jagged outcrop near the hub's base. The platform tilted, a groan echoing deep as the hub flexed—walls bulging, then snapping back, blue veins glowing fierce. Roen's chest thudded—hold, you bastard, hold.

The system pinged: Structural integrity at 70%. Aerial signatures tightening formation—260 meters. Roen's gut sank—closer, smarter, adapting. He peeked out—the ships loomed, cannons glowing brighter, a synchronized hum rising like a death knell.

"Kid," Liya rasped, slumped against the outcrop, "they're locking us down—can't dodge forever." Her hand shook, blood pooling under her leg, but she grinned, faint and fierce. "Got one swing left—make it count?"

Roen's throat burned, his architect's logic scrambling. The hub was their lifeline—70 percent wasn't dead yet. That energy field had zapped the scout—low-level, sure, but enough to rattle them. "Field's still up," he said, hauling her closer to the wall. "We pull 'em in—let it mess their toys."

Liya's grin widened, wild despite the pain. "Bait again? You're a sick bastard—go for it." She swatted air, muttering, "No bugs this time—promise."

"Shut it," Roen snapped, but a smirk tugged at him. He gripped a rock, chucking it high—clang, off the hub's wall, loud as hell. "Hey, Kast pricks!" he roared, voice cracking. "Missed me—try harder!" The ships pivoted, cannons charging, drawn to the noise.

A blast screamed—hit the wall dead-on, blue flaring bright, absorbing it with a crackle that buzzed his teeth. The hub jolted, walls flexing hard, and a faint static hum pulsed out—barely audible, but the lead ship wobbled, its wing dipping as engines coughed.

"See that?" Roen hissed, ducking as another shot scorched past. "It's working—field's screwing 'em!"

Liya laughed, a broken, bloody sound. "Hot damn—tower's got teeth!" She grabbed a stone, hurling it—missed wide, but it clattered loud, pulling fire. A blast grazed the dais, and the hub pulsed again—stronger, the static spiking. The second ship lurched, cannons flickering, and Roen's grin grew—grim, fierce, alive.

The system chimed: Energy field interference increased—fleet stability reduced: 15%. Structural integrity at 65%. Roen's heart leapt—65 percent was shaky, but that 15 percent bought breathing room. The ships pulled back—280 meters, then 300—circling wider, wary now.

"They're spooked," Roen said, slumping against the wall, his side a fire of pain. "Hub's holding 'em off—just."

Liya coughed, blood flecking her lips, her grin fading. "Yeah, kid, but we're not." She swatted her arm, weak and slow. "Leg's done—can't dance much longer." Her voice was soft, the chaos dimming, and Roen's gut twisted—Liya, unbreakable Liya, was breaking.

"Stay with me," he said, voice hard, grabbing her shoulder. "Ten hours—we've got ten hours." He felt it—fear, rage, a flicker of something he couldn't name. She'd fought with him—wolves, mechs, wraiths—and he wasn't losing her to this.

The hub pulsed—thump, thump—blue veins glowing fierce, walls flexing like a beast baring its claws. Roen stared up, dust stinging his eyes, the hum syncing with his ragged breaths. It was fighting too—crumbling, yeah, but defiant, a jagged defiance mirroring his own. He'd built things—towers, bridges—died under one. This wasn't falling, not yet.

A ship fired—plasma streaking red—and hit the dais square. Stone shattered, the platform tilting hard, and Roen dove, shielding Liya as rubble rained. The hub roared—a deep, guttural pulse—and the field crackled, the ship wobbling bad, pulling back fast.

"Keep it up," Roen muttered, spitting blood, his grin savage. "We're not done."

Liya coughed, a weak laugh escaping. "Crazy… kid…" Her eyes fluttered, her hand dropping, and Roen's chest seized—no, not now.

"System!" he barked, voice cracking. "Status!"

System Notification: Structural integrity at 60%. Energy reserves: 55%. Fleet at 320 meters—disruption holding at 15%. Hostile intent escalating.

"Escalating," Roen muttered, hauling Liya closer, her weight heavy against him. The ships loomed, cannons glowing hotter—three firing now, blasts screaming in. The hub took two—walls flaring, cracks widening—but the third hit the platform, shredding the outcrop into dust.

Roen rolled, dragging Liya behind the dais, his ears ringing, his side a blaze of agony. The hub pulsed—thump, thump—blue light flickering, weaker. He felt it falter, a beast staggering under blows, and his own defiance cracked—not yet, damn it, not yet.

"Kid," Liya whispered, her voice fading, "you're… a hell of a fighter…" Her eyes closed, her hand limp, and Roen's breath caught—panic, raw and sharp.

"Stay with me!" he roared, shaking her, his voice breaking. The hub pulsed—thump—and he clung to it, to her, to the fight. Ten hours—they had ten hours.

The ships fired again, a barrage raining death, and Roen braced, the hub's glow his last shield.