Street No. 65.
Beneath the bell tower covered in sticky mold.
In the center of the mold carpet, the Queen let out a dry, raspy roar.
Panic and anger swept through like a tsunami, sending restless ripples spreading from her tentacle-like hair.
The surrounding Variants let out screeching cries.
Behind her, the Lair continued to produce non-stop, yet those frail "newborns" provided no sense of security.
Especially with the continuous death of the Node Creatures, she had lost control of the front lines—her children were enduring senseless casualties...
Her crimson pupils were filled with confusion.
The relentless attacks had lasted for nearly ten nights, and through the grey-green mist, she could see the withering of life.
Yet she didn't understand.
Those humans...
Why couldn't they be completely exterminated?
Even after so many days of attrition, they still had the strength to launch offensive attacks.
