Across the city to the south, the majority of the First Army forces were fighting the Devouring Cloud. Even directionless, the gluttonous swarm still posed an existential threat to Falcon Scott — the sky was torn asunder by fire and explosions, countless brood beasts melting in that inferno as they threw themselves against the siege capital's defenses.
Somewhere further south, far away, Sky Tide was once again engaged in a dreadful battle against the Corrupted Titan, Winter Beast.
And yet, here, on the shore of the dark ocean, a new threat appeared… one that was perhaps no less dangerous than the Devouring Cloud.
Worst of all, no one except for two Masters and a handful of disparate soldiers seemed to be aware of it.
…Or so Sunny had thought.
The moment the hollow horde surged forward, the port fortress finally came alive. Numerous turrets turned their barrels, unleashing an onslaught of bullets at the thralls of the Terror of the Depths. Bright beams of light once again shone on the shore, and several rail guns thundered, cutting rifts through the horde. Arrows and magical projectiles fell down like rain.
The thralls had turned out to be too powerful to be obliterated by the sudden assault, but they did slow down for a moment.
'Finally, some luck…'
Sunny prepared to launch himself into the mass of enemies, but Dale suddenly pulled him back.
"What… the hell… are you doing?"
The stalwart Master glanced at him calmly, then shook his head.
"There's no time for that. The real enemy is the Terror, not its puppets. You need to go… find Bloodwave, or someone from the House of Night at least. They need to find the creature and destroy it, before it's too late."
Sunny blinked.
"What about you?"
Dale turned to the advancing horde, lingered for a moment, and shrugged.
"I'll stay and make sure that they do not breach the wall of the port."
There were a lot of words left unsaid, but they both understood the implication. Dale was best at stationary defense, while Sunny was swift and elusive. Their roles were decided for them by that simple reality, and there was nothing to discuss.
The heavily armored Master took a step forward, raising his shield and mace.
"Go, Sunless. Don't linger."
Sunny opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. Throwing one last glance at the figure of Verne, who was walking steadily through the hellish barrage of bullets without paying them any attention, he gritted his teeth and dove into the shadows.
Behind him, the first of the thralls was already lunging at Dale, hollow eyes shining with the reflected moonlight.
'Damn it, damn it, damn it…'
Swiftly gliding through the darkness, he soon reached the wall of the port fortress and scaled it, emerging from the shadows on the battlements. Here, a chaotic flurry of activity was boiling, soldiers and Awakened feverishly sending rivers of bullets, arrows, and magic into the horde of thralls.
On the other side of the wall, Sunny could see a large crowd of terrified refugees filling a large courtyard below. They had come here to board one of the ships and escape the doomed siege, but got stuck in the middle of the battle instead.
Ignoring the grim sight, he ran across the battlement toward the citadel of the fortress. If he could not find what he sought there, he would proceed past the citadel toward the pier, and from there to the battleships, if need be. As Sunny ran, he looked around, hoping to see someone from the House of Night among the defenders.
He got lucky sooner than he had expected.
The wall of the port fortress had towers rising above it at set intervals, each serving as a bunker. As he passed through one of these bunkers, observing the complicated machinery of the rail gun housed within, he noticed a familiar figure standing near a targeting interface. Tall, handsome, with black hair that sometimes seemed inky blue…
"Naeve!"
Sunny dashed toward the Nightwalker, who looked up from the terminal with a surprised expression.
"Sunless? What are you…"
Sunny waved a hand, interrupting him.
"Long story. Are you free from the hex? Can you see the monsters?"
He realized something, then looked around with a bit of confusion.
"Actually, never mind. How are all of you able to see them?"
Naeve lingered for a moment.
"Nightwalkers like me possess a high affinity to guidance and revelations. The ocean and its depths, too. So, many of us were able to see through the… hex? As for the rest of the garrison, they don't see anything. But they also don't need to, as long as someone provides them with the targeting data. Basically, they are shooting blindly in the direction where we point."
Sunny froze for a moment, admiring the effective crudeness of that simple solution. Then, his face darkened.
On the wall outside the bunker, one of the soldiers suddenly lowered his rifle, remained motionless for a moment, then took a step forward and jumped over the parapet of the battlement, disappearing into the cold water below without a sound. No one seemed to notice his absence.
"Where's Bloodwave?"
Naeve pointed north, toward the pier.
"Protecting the ships. Why?"
Sunny answered with urgency obvious in his voice:
"This battle can't be won unless the source of the hex is destroyed. The Terror of LO49… we need to find and kill it. Staying on the defensive will only allow that fiend to propagate its influence throughout the city, killing countless people and growing its army. The House of Night and your Saint are our best bet."
The Nightwalker stared at him for a few moments. His tired face paled a little.
"You want us to abandon the ships, dive into the ocean, and fight the Terror in its territory?"
Sunny simply nodded.
"Exactly! And I'll dive with you, too."
Naeve hesitated for a bit, then sighed.
"Well, alright. Follow me, then. I'll take you to see my uncle."
Sunny blinked a couple of times.
"Wait, that's it? I… uh… I thought I would have to persuade you."
The Nightwalker gave him a strange look.
"I was persuaded the moment you said "this battle can't be won unless". That Terror is one of the priority targets, anyway. So… come. Let's hunt the bastard down…"