The humans' firepower network was like a candle in a storm, each flicker signaling another area engulfed by the swarm.
In the distance, several massive "Destroyers," resembling mobile turrets, were slowly adjusting their angles. The nauseating fleshy cannon mouths on their backs began to gather an eerie green glow, targeting the last main fortress still spewing fire.
"It's over... all over..." Malcolm felt cold inside.
He wasn't afraid of death; from the moment he donned his uniform, he'd been prepared to sacrifice himself at any moment.
But he was unwilling, unwilling to be submerged meaninglessly in the sea of bugs, unwilling to let everything he guarded become the Bug Race's nourishment.
At this moment, his damaged armor sensors captured the piercing sound of objects tearing through the air from high above!
The sound grew nearer, louder!
"An airstrike?" A ridiculous thought flashed through Malcolm's mind.
