(Kim Si Hon — Night)
The northwest wall held.
I stood at the top of the watchtower beside Jisoo and watched it happen— the Bloomed came first, that familiar swollen silhouette moving too fast for something that size, and the gunfire from the reinforced positions cutting them down before they made it within thirty meters.
Jisoo had moved the shooters last night, repositioned every single firing point so the angles overlapped exactly where the Bloomed's momentum would carry them regardless of approach. It was working. Every single calculation of hers was working.
The Sporeheads came next, dozens of them, fungal crowns catching the firelight as they pushed toward the wall in a mass.
The barricades caught them at the outer ring and funneled them into the kill zone, and the people in the towers did the rest.
