Chapter 83| Bringing Down the Sky
MMyria’s calculated collapse point sat roughly forty meters above the Queen’s nest, a section of ancient volcanic rock already weakened by five years of unchecked colonial excavation, and executing the plan required drawing the massive creature into precisely the right position without alerting her adaptive intelligence to their actual intent.
"Irene, Damon — you’re bait," Myria instructed rapidly, tablet displaying the precise coordinates required. "Draw her directly beneath the marked section. Everyone else, focus purely on distraction until she’s properly positioned."
"Bait," Irene repeated, flames already flickering with anticipatory energy. "My favorite role."
The maneuver unfolded with tense, careful precision, Irene’s aggressive flame assault and Damon’s relentless physical pressure gradually herding the Queen’s massive bulk toward the chamber’s marked collapse point, the creature’s own aggressive pursuit working against her as she pressed the attack without recognizing the trap being carefully constructed around her.
"She’s in position," Vivian confirmed, watching from a safe distance with sharp, restored clarity.
"Allen," Myria called out, "you’re the only one with the precision and speed to trigger this safely. The collapse point requires a concentrated strike delivered from directly above, timed exactly right."
Allen nodded, already marking a precarious outcropping near the ceiling’s weakened section, Shadow Transposition carrying him instantly upward despite the vertigo-inducing height, Ashfall Talons blazing with gathered, dragonfire intensity as he took aim at the precise coordinates Myria’s calculations demanded.
"Everyone clear the drop zone!" he shouted, and below, the Strike Team scattered with practiced, urgent speed as the Queen, sensing the sudden shift in tactical dynamic, began to recognize the trap forming around her a fraction too late.
Allen’s strike landed with devastating, concentrated force, ancient volcanic rock finally giving way after five years of unchecked strain, and an entire section of the chamber’s ceiling collapsed directly onto the Queen’s exposed position with a roar that shook the entire cavern.
The impact was immediate and catastrophic, the Queen’s furious shriek cutting off abruptly as considerable tonnage of ancient stone buried her massive form beneath a churning cloud of dust and debris.
For a long, suspended moment, the chamber fell into ringing, uncertain silence.
"Report!" Farrow’s urgent voice crackled through the coordination channel, cutting through the settling dust.
"Direct hit," Myria confirmed, though her tone carried careful, measured caution rather than premature celebration. "Assessing actual damage now."
The dust gradually cleared to reveal the Queen still moving, considerably slower now, several of her legs pinned beneath the collapsed debris, her massive form visibly wounded but not yet defeated. Dark ichor pooled beneath her, and her earlier fluid, adaptive movements had given way to something considerably more labored and pained.
"She’s wounded badly," Freya observed, "but not finished."
"Then we finish it properly," Damon said, already moving forward with renewed, determined resolve.
The final phase of the battle proved considerably more one-sided than everything preceding it, the Queen’s compromised mobility finally allowing the Strike Team’s coordinated assault to land with devastating, sustained effect. Allen drove Ashfall Talons repeatedly into weakened, exposed sections of her armored plating, dragonfire intensity finding purchase where earlier attempts had merely glanced away. Irene’s flames, no longer requiring careful timing against adaptive avoidance, poured forth with unrestrained, Supreme-tier devastation. Myria’s ice locked what remained of the Queen’s mobility entirely in place, while Everlyn’s resonant magic and Vivian’s precise, restored strikes finished what the collapsed ceiling had begun.
The Queen’s final shriek carried something almost mournful beneath its agony, a sound that made even Allen’s battle-focused determination falter slightly with unexpected, complicated sympathy, before her massive form finally, completely stilled.
Silence fell over the vast chamber, broken only by the Strike Team’s ragged, exhausted breathing and the settling groan of disturbed ancient stone.
"She’s down," Myria confirmed, voice carrying disbelieving, exhausted relief. "The Queen is down."
The chamber erupted into stunned, overwhelming celebration, Cole’s whooping cheer echoing off the ancient walls, Damon’s fierce, triumphant grin, Freya’s rare, unguarded smile, and Allen felt himself pulled into a fierce embrace by all four of his wives simultaneously, exhaustion and overwhelming relief mingling freely as five years of unresolved catastrophe finally, seemingly, drew to its long-awaited close.
"We did it," Irene breathed, tears mixing with battle-worn exhaustion. "We actually did it."
Farrow’s voice crackled through the coordination channel moments later, carrying unmistakable, profound relief. "Confirmed kill on the primary target. Strike Team, this is an extraordinary accomplishment. Begin securing the chamber and preparing for extraction procedures."
Allen allowed himself, for one brief, precious moment, to simply exist in the overwhelming relief of victory, surrounded by his wives and the considerable allies who’d helped make this impossible triumph real.
He should have paid closer attention to the way the Queen’s massive nest of violet-lit eggs, undisturbed by the battle’s chaos, continued their steady, patient pulse in the settling dust behind them.
The Strike Team spent the following hour securing the chamber, cataloguing the Queen’s remains for later Association study, and tending to the day’s accumulated injuries with Everlyn’s restored, resonant healing magic proving considerably more efficient than her earlier notepad-guided gestures had ever managed. Cole’s wounded shoulder healed cleanly under her careful attention, and the Canadian specialist offered profuse, grateful thanks that left Everlyn flushing with quiet, pleased embarrassment.
"You’re remarkable," he told her sincerely. "All of you are, honestly. I don’t think I’ll ever properly describe what it was like watching this fight unfold."
"You held your own out there too," Everlyn said, voice still carrying faint wonder at her own restored ability to offer such easy reassurance. "Don’t undersell your own contribution."
Damon approached Allen amid the settling aftermath, expression carrying the particular exhaustion of hard-won victory rather than defeat. "Five years," he said quietly. "Five years since the original operation failed, and we just succeeded where four thousand Hunters couldn’t manage it before us."
"We had considerable advantages they didn’t," Allen said. "Better intelligence, better preparation, and honestly, no small amount of good fortune alongside genuine skill."
"Don’t undersell what you and your wives brought to this fight," Damon said firmly. "Fortune alone doesn’t defeat something like that Queen. Skill and unshakeable determination do." He clasped Allen’s shoulder with genuine, weighted respect. "Whatever comes next, I’m proud to have fought alongside Fallen Crown today."
Farrow’s voice crackled through the coordination channel once more, carrying continued relief despite its usual measured efficiency. "Extraction teams are inbound. Secure the chamber fully and prepare for withdrawal within the hour. You’ve earned considerable rest after what you’ve just accomplished."
Allen allowed himself a final, relieved exhale, glancing around at his exhausted, triumphant wives and allies, the weight of an impossible victory finally, fully settling into place.
Whatever came next, surely, could wait until after they’d properly celebrated this hard-won, extraordinary success.