Demonic Po*nstar System Chapter 804: Disaster
Previously on Demonic Po*nstar System...
[Phase Time Remaining: 01:42:18.]
[Dungeon Ground Held: 53%. Enemy Forces Eliminated: 3%.]
Kaiden reread the information.
Then he consumed it a third time, slower, convinced there had to be an error in the display.
"...Fuck."
’How is this possible...?’
His frontline had not budged an inch. His Monoliths maintained their grip on the narrow passage. The fallen from the second wave were piled high at the gate, still smoking within the Safe Zone.
From his vantage point, he hadn't conceded any territory whatsoever.
Yet, the tracker indicated he was now at half strength.
His smile faltered, and his heart began to race.
He dragged the map view along the kill route, past the chokehold, through the corridor, beyond the Sink, and directly into the magma channel.
The updated visualization appeared in his periphery, and his stomach plummeted for the first time since the gate's lockdown.
The magma was now dark.
The vibrant orange glow that had illuminated the molten rivers against the basalt walls when he last checked the channel ten minutes prior was gone, replaced by a dull gray. The ambient light had vanished throughout the entire spiral. The slime-covered approach, previously held by his Salamawyrms, was now deserted. They had advanced further down the spiral, engaging the enemy column the Claimant had dispatched, fighting and falling as they held their ground.
Whatever the Claimant had deployed down the spiral was overpowering his defenses and consuming his magma. His augmented magma dwellers were struggling to defend a channel that no longer adhered to its intended operational parameters.
The enemy column had forced Melty's pod back across nearly the entire kilometer-long spiral. They were now battling for the final curve, nearing the channel's base. The exit of the burrow tunnel, which led to the high wall of the Virulent Mire, was mere meters from falling into enemy possession.
He then brought up the notification log.
It had been accumulating in his peripheral vision throughout the engagement at the gate, mirroring the steady rhythm Path B was designed to generate when functioning correctly. Incursions detected at the slime-coated approach. Dreadwyrms engaged. Hostiles eliminated, Sector 1. The typical back-and-forth of an ambush line effectively intercepting enemies at the entry sector, enemies that were supposed to be perishing in the medium they were traversing. He had noted each entry with the practiced efficiency of a Master, a mere glance, a mental note, then refocusing on the battle lines.
Then, only a few dozen seconds ago, as the confrontation intensified with invading monsters exceeding level 100, the predictable cadence shattered.
[Path B alert: anomalous magma volume loss detected.]
[Named unit critical injury: Melty (Dreadwyrm). Mandible fracture along fusion seam.]
[Path B alert: hostile column advancing past slime approach into sector 2.]
[Path B alert: Pyremother brood production at zero. Brood-pool drained.]
[Dreadwyrm casualty: Path B, sector 2.]
[Path B alert: magma volume loss accelerating across sectors 2 through 4.]
[Magmashaper alert: terrain abilities offline across upper spiral. Shaping medium below operational threshold.]
[Dreadwyrm casualty: Path B, sector 3.]
[Path B alert: magma volume below combat threshold along upper spiral.]
[Path B alert: hostile column advancing on burrow tunnel exit.]
[Path B alert: Virulent Mire downstream defense projected to fail on breach.]
All of it flagged in red, stacked within the last forty seconds.
The system had provided the expected alerts for a functional channel for the initial ten minutes, and then, moments ago, the status turned critical.
His teeth clenched together for the first time during the conflict.
"What a foolish error..."
He had maintained focus on the gate the entire time, however. If some colossal anti-magma creature had breached through and lumbered towards Path B, he would have witnessed it.
"So how... ?"
The dungeon itself provided the answer.
The connection at the base of his skull tightened, and the channel's last ten minutes compressed into a single pulse, raw memory flooding directly into his mind via the Master's link.
He processed the entire sequence in less than the time it took for his heart to beat twice.
The enemy column had advanced in formation across the slime-coated approach. The overlay identified the dark-hided quadrupeds as low-tier scavengers in the mid-sixties, disposable archetypes the main force would have easily dispatched on the front lines. The pack mentality inherent in the template allowed most of them to maintain their footing on the slick stones.
The smallest creature, however...
A runt-sized entity lost its footing on the viscous slime and tumbled over the edge of the approach. Its body plunged ten meters down the incline into the molten river near the bend.
Melty reacted instantly, intercepting it before it fully submerged.
His sole named monster erupted from the magma with the velocity she was engineered for, her jaws agape, her Dreadwyrm instincts activating precisely as her specialized ecosystem dictated.
A falling body plunged into her river. Her bite had clamped down on the runt’s torso at the apex of her lunge, with the crushing force that should have torn apart a body of that size upon impact. Then, she dragged the creature into the magma. However, the runt had not been torn asunder. Instead, it opened its maw. The magma surrounding its form began to stir, flowing in a directed current into the runt’s gaping jaws. The insignificant scavenger of a lower tier started to imbibe the river around itself, much like a parched man downing a beer. Its body expanded in mere seconds, the flesh within Melty’s jaws bulging outwards against her grip. The river around both of them noticeably receded as the runt began to feed. Melty’s bite held firm. Melty never relinquished her prey. But the runt continued to grow even larger. Melty’s jaw structure reached its limit, then surpassed it. Her lower mandible fractured along the fused joint, tearing open outwards in a wet disarticulation of the very plate that had safeguarded her face since her evolution. She detached from the runt, half her face obliterated. Yet, the runt did not cease its consumption. The same mass that had shattered Melty’s jaw now elevated the runt from the river. It ascended with a slow, buoyant movement, swelling as it broke the surface. Magma still poured into its open jaws, but now in a directed arc, drawing the river upwards into a shimmering ribbon across the open air. Not a single drop was spilled. The runt hovered above the riverbank. What had been a small scavenger mere seconds prior was now a behemoth the size of a delivery truck, and it was still expanding. Its hide turned from cherry red to white at its core, magma coursed like molten liquid through its visible vessels, radiating heat from within, fueled by the sheer volume of river it was ingesting. It was drinking from a distance.