The beast roars and lunges again.
I reverse hard, dragging the loader backward and baiting it away from the compound.
“Come on,” I mutter. “Follow me. Big, angry, terrible life choices—this way.”
It follows.
Good.
Good.
Behind me, I catch glimpses of movement near the arena’s edge.
Security forces.
Finally.
They’re pouring into the compound perimeter, shouting orders, herding contestants and staff toward evacuation routes.
I see flashes of emergency lights.
Hear distant alarms.
They’re getting people out.
“Keep moving,” I whisper. “Just keep moving.”
The beast surges forward again.
I slam the loader into a pivot, swinging its arm low and clipping one of the creature’s front legs just enough to throw off its stride.
It stumbles.
The ground shakes.
“Ha!” I bark. “Clumsy.”
It recovers instantly.
Of course it does.
“Right. Regeneration. Fantastic.”
It charges again.
I push the loader harder, the engine whining in protest as I steer it toward a cluster of unstable terrain modules.
If I can collapse that section?—
The beast lunges.
Too fast.
Its tail whips around.
I see it coming a split second too late.
“Sh—”
