Liberi Reader

As soon as the words leave his mouth, another shell flies over his head, heading towards his comrades behind him.

Just as he thinks about telling them to duck for cover, a drone swoops past him, intercepting the shell in midair. Even so, the resulting explosion shakes the ground.

Behind him, countless whirring drones rise into the air, whistling as they fling themselves into the incoming shells.

The drones head towards the stone wall's gates one after the other. Not long after, explosions and the wails of Ursine soldiers ring out from behind the bunkers.

The defenders were clearly caught on the back foot by this chaotic assault. They flail at the flying lumps of iron, unable to conceal their positions any longer.

She lets out an involuntary snap of the fingers.

A hand reaches out, picking up the communicator on the fallen man's body.

She clenches her fingers. The voice whines as the communicator is crushed, the shattered fragments slipping between her fingers, tinkling as they fall onto the floor.

The steel door slowly swings open, revealing rows of man-sized vats inside. A few people narrow their eyes. They may be veterans of the battlefield, but they still dread what they are about to see.

But they are surprised. This place is not exactly the same as the factory outside. These vats have red lights flashing under them. Talulah steps forward, peering into the first vat she sees.

She sees a young woman, her body intact. Countless slender tubes are attached to her mouth and nose, the Originium crystals on her body glimmering a dark yellow.

As the breaker switch is pulled with an ear-piercing screech, a blade flashes.

The glass in front of Talulah shatters into pieces, the oily preservation fluid gushing out and splattering across her feet.

The woman is slowly pushed out the vat by the force of the spilling liquid. Talulah helps her up with one hand, using her other to pull away the tubes all over her.

Renewed hope snaps everyone out of their reverie. The dread they felt earlier has become a force propelling them as they charge towards the rest of the vats. For a moment, all that can be heard in the room is the sound of glass breaking and varied greetings.

The two leave, her comrade propping up the weakened young woman as they go. Talulah slowly gets up, walking towards the door before turning her head.

The 'factory' now lays still. Spilled fluid coats the entire floor, reflecting the last vestiges of light in the distance.

She stretches out her hand, as if waving goodbye. Flames spring out of every corner of the room, engulfing the turquoise stone.

The endless toil of the Infected stops now.

There is not a soul in the giant room, only a fireplace that crackles as it burns.

Sirka approaches the desk. Books and files are scattered all over it. She rummages through them, pulling out a sheet covered in symbols from the bottom of the pile, a shiny fresh signature in the bottom right corner.

Suddenly, he feels an iron grip around his neck, one strong enough to lift him off his feet. He is flung into a pillar, which breaks with a dull thump.

Before the lone soldier can recover from the head-churning dizziness and pain, a knife is pressed against his back. It slips through his clothes, its tip sticking ever so slightly into his skin.

Before he can even finish, the knife has pierced his chest, nailing him to the pillar as blood streams down it.

Sirka shakes the blood off her blade as she looks outside the window.

As the building shakes, countless strange, monstrous creatures gush out of the Sarcophagus's core in an unending stream.

They appear to be lost and afraid, milling about in confusion within the enclosed space.

Raidian and Closure's drones work together to form a defensive line, corralling the dangerous infected creatures within a safe zone.

At the other end of the room, Mon3tr and Closure are hard at work at the control panels.

Everyone stays silent. Nobody dares to ask if their labors have borne fruit.

Closure keeps mumbling. Despite her best efforts, the Sarcophagus does not respond to her, yet she keeps working its controls.

Mon3tr speaks as calmly as possible, rendering the cruelest of judgments.

There is no time.

The Sarcophagus is no longer something that gives you hope you can bring your comrade back, but instead something that threatens to wipe out everything.

Though you harbored the sincerest of wishes, you must now make the decision to abandon your one and only chance. You must decide.