My Abyss Survival Diary

Chapter 115 They Need a Game Changer

The first salvo erupted simultaneously from the cannons in the fortress walls, bursting into orange-red flames in the night sky. The shells, trailing sharp whistles, streaked across the dome and crashed into the open area between the depression and the earthen slope.

Simon only had time to turn around, only had time to take one step towards the nun and Franny —

The next moment, a shell landed less than five meters to his right.

A deafening roar as countless shrapnel fragments pierced his body, the intense pain nearly tearing him apart! The shockwave from the explosion slammed into him like an invisible wall, violently hurling him away.

The world turned into a silent film. He saw the dirt and rubble kicked up by the shells slowly tumbling in the air, and he saw Sister Sissi's silver hair being blown backward by the blast wave as she turned around.

His back slammed heavily onto the ground, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs, and a warm liquid spilled from the corner of his mouth.

My vision was blurring, and the severe tinnitus felt like a red-hot iron rod being plunged deep into my ear canal, turning all sounds into a muddy buzzing.

He propped himself up, pressing his palms against the cold, damp ground, the sharp edges of the pebbles digging into his hands.

The shells were still falling, and the ground felt like it was being repeatedly pounded by an invisible giant hand. Each explosion made the entire slope tremble, and rubble and clods of earth fell from above, hitting his shoulders and back.

"Simon, three o'clock!"

He was in excruciating pain all over his body, and his ears were ringing incessantly. He could barely hear Brenée's sharp voice coming from the birdcage behind him.

He looked up, his gaze piercing through the smoke and the flash of the explosion, locking onto the signal flare.

It landed about twenty paces away from him, the gun still stained with Karl's green blood.

That flare gun was his only chance. If he could pick it up and fire the flare, the fortress might think Karl was still there and temporarily stop shelling, even if only for a few minutes, which would be enough for the hostages to run to safety.

The excruciating pain in his ribs made his breathing rapid, and each breath felt like bone fragments were scraping against his lungs.

He stood up and took his first step toward the signal flare.

Sister Sissi saw him. She was holding the Holy Hammer in front of her to shield Florian behind her from the flying debris. Fragments of the cannonballs hit the hammer, sending up a string of sparks, and each one made her arm go numb.

The shells continued to roar, and one shell hit the edge of the depression, the blast wave knocking over several hostages who were running into the woods.

Sophia screamed and fell to the ground. Wilson used both arms to protect the back of her head and abdomen, while his own back was scraped by several stones.

Klein rushed over from the side, grabbed Wilson by the collar, and dragged the couple into a relatively secluded flower field.

drag.

Let it end soon, let it end soon.

A wave of despair washed over him. Simon picked up the signal pistol, knelt on one knee, gripped the handle with his mud- and blood-stained fingers, checked the magazine—there was one more signal flare—pointed the muzzle at the dome, and pulled the trigger!

The red signal flare shot towards the dome with a sharp whistling sound. It was higher and brighter than ordinary signal flares. When it exploded in the center of the spore-filled sky, the scarlet light dyed the entire battlefield blood red. The floating luminous spores were swallowed by the red light, and for a moment the entire dome seemed to be on fire.

The fortress hovered in the night sky, silent like a meat grinder that had been paused.

All that remained on the battlefield were the crackling embers burning in the shell craters and the low groans of the wounded. The men in the fortress had to wait for Karl's orders, but the red signal flare told them that Karl was still alive and to halt the shelling.

The nun rushed to Simon's side, threw the holy hammer aside, bent down, placed one hand on his shoulder and the other on his ribs. She pressed very lightly, but Simon still groaned in pain.

She put his arm over her shoulder, supporting him up. Simon leaned most of his weight on her, and the nun steadily supported his body.

Frani limped over from the other side, bracing Simon under his arm with her uninjured shoulder, and the two of them supported him on either side as they retreated to a safe position.

As they got further apart, Simon turned around and glanced back.

On the earthen slope, Carl's "body" is still there.

His right arm was severed at the elbow, and green blood was still seeping from the harpoon blade that had cut his neck.

Whether it was his imagination or not, Simon saw the corpse moving. The five fingers of its left hand clenched and unclenched one by one, like a person who had just woken up from a deep coma testing whether their nerves could still transmit signals.

Those green eyes reopened, gleaming dimly in the afterglow of the gunfire. The smile on his lips was still there, but it looked even more eerie on his split lips.

Then the "corpse" stood up in an unnatural posture, like a marionette having its joints stretched one by one.

It tilted its head and looked in Simon's direction, watching him leave.

The survivors met up in a stone forest five kilometers away.

This is a natural depression surrounded by huge rocks on all sides, with only a narrow passage for entry and exit.

Klein counted the hostages one by one. Many of them had died in the gunfire. He clenched his fists silently. Many of the dead were friends he had met in the camp.

So many people died simply because of an absurd game, because of the whimsical ideas of a madman.

The rest of the people were here. Some were bandaging their wounds, some were leaning against rocks panting, and some were just sitting there in a daze, staring at the ground, still not recovered from the barrage of shelling.

Sophia leaned against Wilson, her hands protecting her abdomen, her lips trembling slightly. Wilson's arms were covered in bloody scratches from the gravel, but he did not let go.

"Where is Chief Chalasu? Why hasn't he arrived yet?"

The tall, alien beings looked around but couldn't see their chieftain. They didn't know where Chalasu was.

Lin Ying stood beside her, clenching his fists, his eyes red as if they were about to bleed.

He didn't answer, and he couldn't answer.

Everyone fell silent.

Then, one by one, everyone turned to look at Simon.

Klein looked at him, Frani looked at him, Wilson and Sophia looked at him, and the adventurers of the Empire looked at him.

The badger and the forest eagle also looked at him, their eyes still wet with tears.

Their expressions varied—some were exhausted, some were fearful, some were bewildered, and some were still grieving the loss of their companions.

But all eyes are asking the same question.

What should we do now?

They need someone to step forward; they need a game-changer.