53 Days Since First Strike — MOA Complex, War Room
The rain had finally stopped. For the first time in over a week, dawn broke clean over the skyline. From the rooftop, it looked almost peaceful—the bay glimmering silver under faint sunbeams.
But inside the MOA Complex's war room, peace was the last thing anyone felt.
Thomas stood motionless in front of the main operations table. A new heatmap flickered with disturbing colors. Thin red veins—far thinner than the previous tunnel paths—began appearing on the screen. They branched out from the Iriga crater like spider cracks on glass.
"It's expanding again," Keplar reported grimly. "Only not in the way we expected."
Thomas squinted at the map. "Explain."
"They're not tunnels. Not exactly. These are microfissures—fractures in the bedrock, spreading like pressure vents. We believe it's using them to send out biomass. Or maybe just… presence."
"Presence?" Sato asked from across the room.
