Qianlong maneuvered his Reaper toward Bay 32, where a massive alloy chain unfurled like a steel serpent. Gripping it with his mech's clamp hands, he began the methodical process of threading it through the designated anchor points along the iceberg's western flank.
The task itself was simple—had it not been for the warzone surrounding them. Every miner worked with frayed nerves as sporadic insectoid breaches kept disrupting progress. Guard Sentinels, stretched too thin, couldn't intercept every invader in time.
Seven grueling hours later, Qianlong secured the final link. No new assignments appeared—just a system alert:
"Final adjustments commencing in 30 minutes. Shark-class Reaver will initiate full-power lift. All Reapers assume patrol formation."
He wiped sweat from his brow. Almost over.
The Shark's engines roared to life, their thunderous vibrations resonating through the ice as the colossal berg slowly righted itself.
"Tilt correction: 5%... 10%... 15%..."
Hope surged among the crews—until Phantom's warning flashed:
"Alert: Hive breach detected."
A Leviathan-class insectoid—easily the size of a corvette—plummeted from a newly formed void above, its armored bulk slamming into the iceberg's edge. The impact sent catastrophic tremors through the structure.
"All Reapers reinforce the base!" Jela's command cut through the chaos.
Qianlong's mech joined dozens of others propping up the destabilized mass. Sparks flew from overloaded actuators as the machines strained against the impossible weight.
"Danger escalation," Phantom intoned. "Enemy swarm breaching 11 o'clock defenses. Projected target: Your position."
"No retreat," Qianlong gritted his teeth. "Nowhere left to run."
"Activating camouflage spore layer."
A strange fluid seeped from Qianlong's control panel, coating the Reaper's exterior in a nearly invisible membrane. To the insectoids, his mech simply vanished.
Around him, unprepared miners weren't so lucky. Acidic projectiles rained down, melting through armor as Reaper after Reaper erupted in flames.
"Damn it! I'm hit—"
"Stay calm! Assess dama—"
Explosions drowned out the comms. Qianlong watched helplessly as nearby mechs grappled with their attackers in death embraces, dragging the monsters down with them in fiery mutual destruction.
Aboard the command ship, Jela slammed her fist into the console. "Who was guarding sector eleven?!"
"Fat Sentinel squad... wiped out," came the grim reply.
"Divert Shell Squad from the Leviathan!"
"Denied." The elderly Mining Minister's voice brooked no argument. "We're at 80% correction. The berg lifts now or never."
"But our people—"
"Every second delayed kills more. Raise the damn ice!"
As the Leviathan's carcass floated away, Qianlong realized with dawning horror—he alone remained holding the line, an invisible sentinel amidst a graveyard of molten metal and frozen corpses.