Chapter 634: Chapter 634: Persistence (Part 4)

Don’s eyes widened—

Not at the chopper.

Beyond it.

Above it.

Through the thinning dust and the chop of spinning rotors, shapes broke loose from the ruined edge of Ebon Crest.

At first they looked like debris—burned fragments, bodies already dead.

Then one moved.

Then another.

Charred figures dragged themselves over the broken ledge and dropped. Some didn’t even fall clean—hands still clutching at nothing, legs kicking in broken rhythm as they tipped forward and disappeared into open air.

Others jumped. Not controlled. Not alive in any way that mattered—but moving.

And they were falling straight toward the chopper.

Don’s body reacted before the thought finished forming. His hand twitched upward, fingers spreading as he reached—

Nothing happened.

No—something did.

Pressure slammed into his skull.

His breath caught mid-inhale, teeth grinding as a sharp spike of pain cut through his head.

It wasn’t the usual strain. It hit earlier—faster—like his body had already decided this was too much.

"Ghh—!"

His arm faltered.

Charles turned at the sound, one hand still braced against Don’s shoulder to keep himself upright. "What’s wr—"

He followed Don’s gaze.

His expression changed instantly.

"Wait—!" Charles’s voice came out rough, thinner than he wanted, but he forced it anyway. "Pull up!"

The shout carried—barely—but enough.

Static crackled through the comms—shhrrrk~—but the words made it through.

Inside the chopper, heads snapped up. The pilots reacted first, hands moving fast over controls as the aircraft tilted upward, rotors biting harder into the air as they tried to climb out of the drop path.

Olynk turned sharply toward the cockpit, already moving to speak—but stopped when he saw the adjustment happen in real time. No hesitation. Good.

For a moment—

It looked like they’d make it.

One of the falling horde members missed the rotor by inches, its body spinning past and slamming onto the rear section instead. It hit wrong—limbs folding under the impact before catching on the tail.

Then it moved.

Its hands clawed forward, dragging itself along the metal, leaving streaks of blackened blood as it reached the rear rotor.

Then, the body struck the spinning blades—

WHRRR—KRRRCHH~!!

The rotor tore into it, shredding through bone and ruined flesh in a spray that burst outward in all directions. For a split second, the blades held—

Then they didn’t.

The rotation broke.

The entire tail jerked sideways, the chopper lurching violently as control snapped out from under it.

The aircraft spun—hard—nose dipping, then rising, then twisting again as the pilots fought a losing battle against the imbalance.

"Brace—!"

The shout came from inside—but it didn’t matter.

The chopper clipped a nearby building—CRAAASH~—its side tearing through concrete and glass in a brutal scrape that sheared off panels and sent shards raining down in a wide arc.

The impact spun it further, the body pitching downward as it lost what little stability remained.

Don’s eyes widened.

He grabbed Charles tighter—hard enough that the man grunted—and moved.

Fast.

They cleared distance in a burst, boots grinding across broken pavement as Don forced them away from the falling wreck.

He didn’t stop until they crossed the street entirely, putting wreckage and space between them and where it was about to hit.

Behind them—

Impact.

BOOOOM—!!

The chopper slammed into the street nose-first, metal crumpling inward as the frame folded under its own weight.

The rear followed through, smashing down and bouncing once before grinding across the asphalt, tearing it open as it slid. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Doors ripped free.

Bodies came with them.

Olynk hit the ground first, rolling hard across the pavement, shoulder clipping debris before he forced himself into a controlled slide behind an overturned vehicle.

K-4 followed—less clean. He landed on his side and rolled, a piece of falling debris catching his shoulder mid-motion—THUD—tearing against fabric and skin as he grit his teeth and kept moving.

Another officer wasn’t as lucky.

He hit the ground all wrong—leg snapping under him before the sliding wreck caught up and dragged him under for half a second too long. When it passed, he didn’t move.

More fell from the broken frame.

Some alive but badly injured.

Most not.

The chopper didn’t stop.

It tore across the street, metal grinding, sparks ripping from its underside as it slammed into a burning vehicle already wrecked along the roadside.

Don had just turned—

The explosion hit.

BOOOOOM—!!!

Fire erupted outward in a violent burst, the blast wave slamming through the street with enough force to shove debris, bodies, and broken metal outward in every direction.

The sound cracked through the air, heavy and immediate.

Don raised both hands on instinct.

The force hit him head-on.

His feet held.

The shockwave pressed against him, wind tearing at his frame as dust and fragments blasted past.

He didn’t move back an inch—but the pressure was there, constant, pushing.

Behind him, Charles reacted differently.

He turned sideways and threw his good wing forward, bracing it like a shield.

The feathers caught the blast, rattling slightly as heat and debris hammered into them, his body dipping slightly under the force before stabilizing.

Across the street, Olynk ducked tighter behind the overturned vehicle, one arm braced against the frame as the shockwave rolled over him.

K-4 dropped low, forearm raised to shield his face, teeth clenched as heat washed over him and loose debris struck around him in hard impacts—tick-tick-CRACK~.

Then—

It passed.

Flames climbed higher from the wreck, licking through twisted metal and broken parts of the chopper.

Thick smoke followed, rolling outward and upward as what remained of the structure burned unevenly.

Dust filled everything again.

Vision dropped.

Shapes blurred.

The street disappeared into gray.

For a second—

No one moved.

No one spoke.

—

The dust hung low and thick, drifting in slow sheets across the ruined street.

Small bits of ash and grit tapped against gear and body, ticking softly against exposed metal and cracked pavement.

Shapes moved inside it—unclear, shifting—until a cough broke through.

Olynk’s voice came first, rough and forced out of a tight chest. "—cough— What’s everyone’s status!"

K-4 answered almost immediately, voice clipped despite the blood trailing from his brow and dripping off his jaw. "Green!"

A lie, technically. But close enough.

Charles bent forward slightly, one wing half-folded, the other hanging at an uneven angle.

He coughed hard, dragging air into lungs that didn’t want it. "We—" he started, lifting his head—

CLAP!~

A sound hit like a detonation. Not loud in the usual sense—worse.

It cracked through the air with a flat, violent force, and the entire cloud of dust burst outward from a single point.

Wind followed it in a harsh surge, ripping through debris, kicking up loose fragments of concrete and ash that skidded across the street.

Everyone raised an arm or turned their faces away on instinct.

K-4 braced his stance, boots grinding against broken asphalt.

Olynk ducked low, one hand already reaching toward where he’d last seen a weapon.

Charles angled his good wing forward, shielding his face as the gust rushed past.

Then it was gone.

The street cleared in an instant.

They all looked.

Don stood at the center of where the dust had been thickest, arms still raised, palms pressed together.

His shoulders rose and fell once, controlled, but his jaw was set tight enough to show strain. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t say anything.

There was no time.

A wet, distant impact echoed above them—then another.

All of them tilted their heads upward.

More were coming.