Chapter 44: Battle of the Black Forest - Part 2
The air in the command center was tense. The successful defense of Site-Lamedh-C had bought them some time, but the battle was far from over. Léonard could feel the weight of the upcoming conflict pressing down on him as he glanced over the monitors displaying the situation around Site-19-DE.
He studied the thaumaturgists standing before him. Although their equipment was subpar, Léonard knew better than to judge them by appearances. Their expertise in thaumaturgy had been vital in recent operations, but the battle they were about to enter would require more than just raw power.
Léonard, with a slight flick of his wrist, summoned SCP-066-DE out of the system, a grimoire brimming with spells that few could comprehend, let alone control. The book pulsed with a dark energy, as if eager to unleash its secrets. The 15 master-level thaumaturgists, who had been called in as a last resort, were already chanting incantations, preparing themselves mentally and spiritually for the horrors that awaited them in the Black Forest.
The thaumaturgists were highly skilled but lacked the heavy-duty gear of typical MTF operatives. Recognizing the need for better equipment, Léonard accessed the System's store interface, purchasing weapons and armor that would offer the necessary protection and firepower. Each thaumaturgist received a FN SCAR and a P90, along with reinforced combat suits capable of withstanding the worst of what they might encounter.
Léonard's command console buzzed with updates. Forces from the Gendastrerie Nationale, MTF Omega-7 "Pandora's Box," Mu-12 "The Farfouilleurs," and 58 other tactical teams were converging on the Black Forest. Tanks, armored vehicles, and attack helicopters were en route, creating a multi-pronged heavy force that would be necessary to hold back the tide of anomalous threats.
"Overwatch, this is MTF Omega-7. We're positioned at the northern perimeter. Awaiting orders," a voice crackled over the intercom.
"Standby for further instructions," Léonard responded.
Turning his attention to the thaumaturgists, Léonard saw them donning their new gear. The transformation was remarkable. No longer did they seem like scholars of the arcane—now they resembled a modern-day battalion of sorcerers, equipped with both technology and magic. Their leader, whom Léonard had appointed as the commander of this new unit, now known as MTF Alpha-6 "Arcanum Veil," stepped forward.
"Sir, with your permission, we'd like to take 15 minutes to enchant our weapons, ammunitions and armor," the commander requested.
Léonard nodded, understanding the significance of these enchantments. In a battle where the laws of physics could be bent or broken by the anomalous entities they faced, every advantage was critical.
"Granted," Léonard replied. "Make it count."
The thaumaturgists dispersed, each beginning the intricate process of enchanting their gear. Glyphs glowed faintly as they were inscribed on the armor, and the weapons shimmered with a new, deadly aura as they absorbed the arcane energy. Léonard watched them work with admiration—these men and women were not merely soldiers; they were the vanguard against the unknown.
Léonard felt a buzz from his command console—a message from the Site Director. He had successfully coordinated the Gendastrerie Nationale and the MTF units, along with the armored reinforcements. Tanks began rumbling through the dense undergrowth, their cannons swiveling to track potential threats. Attack helicopters hovered above, their blades cutting through the air with a menacing thrum, ready to rain down fire at a moment's notice.
The thaumaturgists completed their preparations and returned, their weapons now imbued with powerful enchantments. The commander of Alpha-6 saluted sharply, signaling that his team was ready. Léonard nodded in approval.
"Prepare for deployment," Léonard ordered.
The thaumaturgists filed out, their presence a formidable addition to the forces already in the field. Léonard remained behind, his mind racing with strategies and contingencies. The battle so far had been chaotic, and the second wave of creatures would be even worse. But with the combined might of the Foundation, the Gendastrerie, and the thaumaturgists, he had faith that they could hold the line.
The screens in front of him displayed the field as Léonard continued to coordinate the movements of the various forces. Tanks crushed the underbrush beneath their treads as they pushed deeper into the forest, securing critical points and forming chokeholds where the creatures could be contained and eradicated. Helicopters circled above, their weapons systems primed for any threats that would emerge from the forest's depths.
"All units, prepare for incoming," Léonard commanded through the intercom.
The next wave was coming. The ground trembled, and a low growl reverberated through the air, signaling the approach of the creatures. The forest, which had seemed eerily silent just moments before, was now alive with the sound of movement—twigs snapping, leaves rustling, and an ominous, guttural noise that sent chills down the spine of even the most hardened soldiers.
Through his monitors, Léonard observed as the frontline units tightened their formations. Then, the first creature broke through the treeline—a hulking, malformed beast, its body covered in matted fur and protruding bones. It moved with an unnatural speed, leaping toward the nearest tank with a roar that shook the very ground.
"Fire!" Léonard ordered.
Cannons thundered, and the air was filled with the explosive sound of gunfire. The creature took the full brunt of the attack but staggered only slightly before continuing its charge. The thaumaturgists of Alpha-6 began their assault, launching bolts of arcane energy that crackled with a furious intensity. The combined assault of magic and modern weaponry finally brought the creature down, its body collapsing in a heap. But as soon as it fell, more creatures surged from the shadows.
The battle was on. All around, the sounds of warfare filled the air—gunfire, explosions, the shouts of soldiers, and the unearthly cries of the beasts they faced. Léonard continued to issue commands, directing reinforcements to where they were most needed, coordinating airstrikes, and ensuring that the thaumaturgists' efforts were maximized.
"Overwatch to Alpha-6, status report," Léonard called out.
"We're holding, but they keep coming. We need more firepower on the east flank!" the commander responded.
"Copy that. Omega-7, divert to the east flank and provide support. Helicopters, focus your fire on the eastern sector. Tanks, hold the line!" Léonard barked, his voice calm but authoritative.
As the battle raged on, Léonard could feel the weight of each decision. Every order he gave had consequences, and the lives of his men—and possibly the future of humanity—depended on his ability to think quickly and act decisively. He could see the toll the fighting was taking on the forces; the beasts were relentless, their numbers seemingly endless.
Suddenly, a new alert flashed on his console—an anomaly in the forest, deeper than any of the creatures they had faced so far. Léonard's eyes narrowed as he studied the data. This could be the key to ending the onslaught, or it could be the harbinger of even greater destruction.
"All units, prepare for something big. I'm detecting an anomaly at coordinates seven-four-two-nine. Keep your distance and be ready to fall back if necessary," Léonard ordered, his voice steely.
The ground shook again, more violently this time, as if the very earth was rebelling against what was to come. Then, from the darkness of the forest, a massive figure emerged—a towering entity, its form shifting and writhing as though it was made of the shadows themselves. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and its presence exuded an overwhelming aura of dread.
"Focus all fire on the anomaly!" Léonard shouted.
The response was immediate. Cannons roared, and missiles streaked through the air, converging on the towering figure. The thaumaturgists chanted in unison, their combined magical energies creating a blinding light that shot toward the entity. But as the attacks struck, the entity merely absorbed them, growing larger and more defined with each hit.
"Fall back! Regroup at the secondary perimeter!" Léonard ordered. It was clear that conventional means were ineffective, and they needed to reassess their strategy.
As the forces began to withdraw, Léonard's mind raced. He had faced many threats in his time with the Foundation, but this was something beyond anything he had encountered. The anomaly was feeding off their attacks, growing stronger with every second. He needed to find a way to disrupt it, to sever its connection to whatever source of power it was drawing from.
"Overwatch, this is Omega-7. We're falling back, but the entity is still advancing. What's the plan?" the voice of the Omega-7 commander crackled through the intercom.
"Standby, Omega-7. I'm working on a solution," Léonard replied.
He turned to SCP-066-DE, the book humming with power. There had to be something within its pages, some spell or incantation that could counter the anomaly's growth. Flipping through the pages, Léonard's eyes scanned for anything that could be of use.
—
From a distant vantage point, a group of nine figures in elegant robes observed the chaotic scene below. The leader of the group, flanked by the others, was a figure of authority and menace. Surrounding them were a throng of Sarkic beasts and devoted disciples, their grotesque forms a stark contrast to the serene presence of their masters.
The leader, with cold and calculating eyes, watched as his Behemoth-a monstrous entity of twisted flesh and raw power-engaged with the forces of the Foundation. His gaze narrowed as he identified two particularly troublesome units: Omega-7 and Alpha-6. These MTF squads were unlike the regular Foundation forces. They were anomalies in their own right, powerful and dangerous. The leader knew they needed to be eliminated to ensure victory.
Turning to the two Elders at his side, both of whom were draped in robes adorned with ancient symbols and arcane marks, the leader issued a command. Pointing toward Omega-7 "This unit must be crushed. Take 100 of our finest disciples and destroy them," he ordered, his voice a low, sinister rumble.
The two Elders nodded, their eyes glowing faintly with unnatural light. They moved swiftly, leading their cadre of elite disciples, warriors trained in the darkest arts, down the hillside and into the fray, aiming to obliterate Omega-7.
The leader then gestured to four other Elders. "This group of thaumaturgists cannot be allowed to interfere. Take 200 disciples and deal with them accordingly."
Without hesitation, the four Elders moved to assemble their forces. These disciples were equally formidable, their loyalty to the Sarkic cult unwavering. They descended upon the battlefield, their chants filling the air as they prepared to confront the Foundation's most mystical operatives.
As the orders were carried out, the leader's focus shifted to the monstrous horde under his command. With a mere thought, he began to assemble more creatures-abominations of twisted flesh, sinew, and bone. From the flash and blood emerged 10 Behemoths, towering giants of 15 meters in height, their forms defying nature itself. These were his ultimate weapons, designed to instill terror and destruction.
"Eight Behemoths to the Foundation's forces," the leader intoned, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "The remaining two will be tasked with annihilating the retreating Bundeswer forces."
The Behemoths moved with surprising speed for their size, their massive footfalls shaking the ground as they advanced toward their targets. The air was thick with tension, the scent of blood, and the promise of carnage. The Foundation's forces and their allies were about to face a nightmare unlike any they had encountered before.
The leader watched with a grim satisfaction as the Behemoths thundered forward. The tide of battle was about to turn in his favor, and soon, the Black Forest would be soaked in the blood of those who dared oppose him.
---
On the battlefield, the operatives of Alpha-6 and Omega-7 fought fiercely against the Behemoth. Gunfire echoed through the forest as they unleashed a relentless barrage of bullets, but their efforts seemed futile as the creature continued its assault, unfazed by the damage. The Behemoth's thick, resilient hide absorbed the rounds with little consequence, driving the operatives to rethink their approach.
The commander of Alpha-6, a tall figure with a stern expression and a resolute gaze, quickly assessed the situation. Realizing that their conventional weapons were having minimal effect, he knew they needed a new strategy—one that leveraged the unique abilities within their ranks. With this in mind, he sprinted across the battlefield, dodging debris and avoiding the Behemoth's massive limbs as they swung wildly through the air. His destination was clear: he needed to confer with Colonel Mendoza, the commanding officer of Omega-7.
Colonel Mendoza, a seasoned and battle-hardened leader, was in the thick of the fight, directing his troops with precision. He spotted the Alpha-6 commander approaching and signaled his men to provide covering fire. As the two commanders met amidst the chaos, the Alpha-6 leader wasted no time in laying out his plan.
"We can't take this thing down with bullets alone," the Alpha-6 commander began, his voice steady despite the carnage surrounding them. "But we have an asset that might give us the edge we need, SCP-073. His ability to reflect damage could be the key."
Mendoza nodded, already seeing where this was going. "You want Cain to draw the Behemoth's attack, let it strike him, and have that damage reflected back onto the creature."
"Exactly," the Alpha-6 commander confirmed. "It'll destabilize the Behemoth, give us an opening. My team can then gather and prepare a Type-4 spell—a massive EVE surge that'll cause a reality collapse. If we can overload the area with EVE, it should be enough to kill the Behemoth outright."
Mendoza considered the plan for a brief moment, weighing the risks. "It's risky, but I don't see a better option. We'll give you the time you need."
The two commanders shared a quick nod of understanding, and the plan was set into motion. Mendoza immediately relayed the orders to Cain, who was engaged with another group of enemies nearby. The enigmatic SCP-073 moved with an eerie calmness, his eyes locking onto the Behemoth as he prepared to play his role.
Cain stepped forward, deliberately placing himself in the Behemoth's path. The massive creature, sensing a challenge, turned its focus toward Cain, raising a colossal fist to deliver a devastating blow. The operatives of Omega-7 and Alpha-6 held their breath as the Behemoth's attack connected with Cain's body.
For a split second, there was silence—a stillness in the air that seemed to stretch on infinitely. Then, with a sudden and violent eruption of force, the Behemoth was staggered as the damage it had intended for Cain was reflected back upon itself. The creature roared in agony, its massive frame shaking as the unexpected pain coursed through it.
"Now!" the Alpha-6 commander shouted to his team, who had gathered in a tight formation, their hands already weaving intricate symbols in the air as they began to channel the Type-4 spell. The operatives worked in unison, their voices rising in a haunting chant as they summoned the EVE energy required for the spell. The air around them crackled with raw power, the fabric of reality itself straining under the immense energy being summoned.
As the spell neared completion, a pulse of energy radiated outward from Alpha-6, the EVE surge rapidly building to a critical mass. The ground beneath the Behemoth began to warp and twist, reality itself buckling under the strain. With a final, deafening crack, the reality collapse occurred, the overloaded EVE energy collapsing inward and creating a vortex that consumed the Behemoth in an instant.
The battlefield fell eerily silent as the dust settled, the once-unstoppable creature now nothing more than a memory. The operatives of Alpha-6 and Omega-7 slowly rose to their feet, catching their breath and preparing for whatever came next.
But as they regrouped, the ground trembled once more. From the treeline, eight more Behemoths emerged, their towering forms accompanied by a horde of over 300 cultists and Sarkic beasts. The new threat split into two groups, one charging toward Alpha-6 and the other toward Omega-7, with deadly intent in their glowing eyes.
The operatives exchanged grim looks. The battle was far from over, and they would need every ounce of their strength and cunning to survive what was coming next.
——
Note: For those who do not know EVE (Elan-Vital Energy) is the official unit used to measure thaumaturgy in the foundation universe. It is often called Aura, Ki, Chakra, Mana or other.
Regarding the massive surge of EVE in an area would cause a collapse of reality. It is called a backlash and often happens when a thaumaturgist (or multiple) overloads an area with his EVE. Some thaumaturgists have developed methods to exploit this effect.