NOVEL NEXT WORLD Chapter 7: The Detour.
September 2184. Surface. Ruin City.
The APC rumbled through the dead city, its engine, and the grinding wheels the only sounds breaking the oppressive silence. The ruins around them loomed like the skeletal remains of a civilization wiped clean. It had been a grueling journey—almost every street was blocked by debris that even the APC's rugged design couldn't traverse. They had been forced to backtrack numerous times, while the gunner scanned the skyline through the autocannon's sights. The city's dead eyes stared back, broken windows and shattered structures silently testifying to the carnage of orbital strikes. Jason spotted a square building, its side sheared off, exposing satellite dishes, a grim reminder of the bombardment that had carved a piece from its right flank.
"Got our location," Jason said, his voice tense. "Take that alley on the right—it'll get us closer."
The driver grunted in acknowledgment, carefully steering the APC into the tight alleyway. The narrow passage pressed in on them from both sides, rubble encroaching on the vehicle as if the city itself sought to crush their advance.
"I don't think I've ever been in a bombed-out city like this before," muttered one of the soldiers. "Feels like a graveyard."
Jason nodded. "It is. This place was alive once. Now, it's just a tomb."
War had taken Jason to countless battlefields, but never to a city. The SEAF veterans had seen their share of urban warfare, but the rookies with Jason had only skirmished in barren wastelands. This decaying urban maze unnerved them all.
When the APC emerged from the alley, they halted. Jason scanned the area through the gun's thermal scope, but there was no movement, no signs of life.
"Got a line of wrecked vehicles ahead, sir. Gonna have to go around, but the Hub is just beyond."
A jumbled mass of civilian and military vehicles blocked the road ahead—cars, SEAF APCs, and even a broken-down SPG bastion lay scattered like toys abandoned in a child's tantrum. Jason flipped between thermal and night vision, his heart heavy as he imagined the desperate chaos that must have unfolded here. The panic, the terror, civilians trapped as the SEAF scrambled to escape, only to be caught in the orbital barrage that followed.
"Thousands dead in seconds," Jason said, more to himself than anyone else. "It's hard to imagine anyone survived this."
The driver grimaced. "If anyone did, they didn't last long."
The APC navigated around the obstacles, its autocannon swiveling, scanning the icy ruins. Snowflakes fell lazily, settling on the abandoned vehicles like shrouds over corpses. They drove onward, a grim procession of survivors in a land of the dead.
"Helldiver, come in."
The crackle of the radio broke the eerie quiet. It was Eagle 3, one of their support craft flying above.
"This is Jason. Go ahead."
"I'm picking up a heat signature from a warehouse. It might have been an explosion near the ceiling."
Jason frowned. "An explosion?"
"Small, but I'm running another scan. Sending coordinates now."
Jason motioned to the driver. "Hold up. Eagle 3's got something."
The APC ground to a halt as a location ping appeared on Jason's display. He scanned the area, spotting a leaning skyscraper that had been gutted by the orbital fire. Beneath its unstable mass, the path forward was clear—mostly.
"I see a way under that skyscraper. Otherwise, we'll have to go around."
The driver let out a sharp exhale. "Sir, you sure? That thing could come down on us in a heartbeat."
Jason grinned. "If it does, at least the next Helldivers will know not to follow our route."
The driver chuckled darkly. "You're gonna get us killed one of these days."
With the APC edging forward cautiously, they passed under the looming skyscraper. Each clump of falling snow, each creak of strained metal, sent a ripple of tension through the crew. For a moment, it felt like the entire city was holding its breath. When they emerged from the shadow of the skyscraper, the collective sigh of relief was palpable.
"We're through," the driver said, half to himself.
Jason switched his scope back to night vision. Ahead, the industrial district stretched out before them, a jagged horizon of warehouses and factories. Somewhere among them was the heat signature.
"Which one is it?"
Jason checked the map. "Far left. Take it slow—this place screams ambush."
The SEAF soldiers readied their weapons, tension rising as the APC crept toward the warehouse. The driver steered them to a stop in front of the massive, rusted doors that barred their way. Jason issued orders swiftly, his voice calm amidst the tension.
"Alright, everyone out. Take over the gun; I'm calling down support."
Jason climbed out of the hatch, planting a beacon on the ground. Three fiery streaks slashed through the sky as drop pods slammed into the earth, cracking the icy ground beneath them. He moved to the nearest pod and hoisted the massive LAS-99 Quasar Cannon from its cradle.
"The autocannon, recoilless rifle, and ammo packs are yours. Follow your training, and we'll get through this."
One of the soldiers tried the warehouse door, but it was rusted shut. "Looks like it's your turn, sir."
Jason leveled the Quasar Cannon at the door. The weapon hummed to life, its barrel glowing as energy built up. A moment later, a brilliant yellow orb of plasma slammed into the door, blowing it inward with a thunderous explosion. Snow and debris filled the air, and as the smoke cleared, a new sound reached their ears—a cry of pain, followed by the unmistakable clash of metal against metal.
"Someone's still alive in there," one of the soldiers said, incredulous.
Jason motioned for them to move in. Inside the warehouse, the shadows were alive with movement. Jason peered around a row of containers—and froze.
"What in the name of liberty…"
Hanging from the ceiling, stretching out like a grotesque, mechanical centipede, was a monstrosity of metal and machinery. Its long, segmented body bristled with limbs and wires, its head crowned with camera-like eyes that scanned the room with cold, calculating precision.
A synthetic voice echoed through the warehouse. "Your kind never listens… but assimilation is far easier than explanation."
Jason's gaze flicked to the source of the voice. Huddled on the other side of the room were three figures, their pale skin glowing with a digital light. Two had wings and claws, the smaller one wielded a strange, glowing weapon, but fear was etched into their faces. Their eyes—two glowing yellow, one purple—were locked on the monstrous machine overhead.
"Sir, orders?" one of the soldiers whispered.
Jason hesitated. They could pull back, but those three would be slaughtered—and they might lose any intel they needed.
"Get ready," Jason muttered, aiming the Quasar Cannon at the creature's body. The sound of the weapon charging drew the machine's attention. Its stalks swiveled toward them, surprise flickering across its synthetic face.
"Humans? But… you're supposed to be dead."
Jason fired. The Quasar Cannon roared, and the battle began.
Edited thanks to ELE73CH.