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Chapter 711 711 Transport 2

"Fuck! Who is attacking us!?"

As the ship plummeted, the external chaos mirrored the internal turmoil. Explosions lit up the sky as demonic spacecraft swarmed like vengeful hornets, engaging in a ferocious battle against local defense forces and Celestial Platoon ships assigned for protection.

In the midst of the chaos, Francus and Grigor struggled to regain their footing. The once controlled environment of the cargo ship now resembled a war zone. The groans of stressed metal and the wails of injured personnel filled the air.

Despite their injuries, Francus and Grigor managed to reach a vantage point within the ship. Through a shattered viewport, they witnessed the celestial ballet of demonic and defensive spacecraft engaging in a deadly dance. Energy beams crisscrossed the sky, leaving trails of destruction in their wake.

Grigor, his voice strained but resolute, spoke over the cacophony. "This is no ordinary attack. The demons orchestrated this with precision. They knew our cargo was a threat, and they struck at our weakest moment."

Francus, his eyes reflecting the determination to survive, replied, "We can't let this mission end in failure. We need to get to the communication array, and call for reinforcements!"

As they reached the compromised array, Grigor's weathered hands moved swiftly over the controls. There, he saw many corpses lying all over the place. He gritted his teeth and ignored them.

Despite the pain pulsating through his injured body, his focus remained unwavering. The distress signal was broadcast into the cosmic void, a plea for aid against the unexpected demonic onslaught.

Just as hope flickered in the dimming corridors of the crippled ship, a demonic spacecraft, sleek and ominous, descended with predatory grace. Its dark energy resonated with malice as it targeted the communication array. Another powerful beam struck, obliterating the array and silencing the distress signal.

"Bastard!"

The realization hit Francus and Grigor like a physical blow. The odds had shifted against them. With no means of calling for reinforcements, survival seemed like an elusive dream in the face of demonic aggression.

The once-graceful cargo ship, now crippled and engulfed in chaos, began its descent back to the planet's surface. Francus and Grigor, still within its metallic confines, felt the disorienting lurch as gravity asserted its dominance. The world outside the viewport blurred into a dizzying spectacle as the ship descended like a wounded bird.

Fear crept into Francus and Grigor's hearts, their sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit corridors for any sign of escape. The once-familiar metallic corridors transformed into a claustrophobic labyrinth of impending doom. The groans of the stressed metal, now amplified by the descent, created a haunting symphony of impending catastrophe.

"We need to get out of here!" Francus shouted.

As the ship plummeted, the gravitational force intensified.

Francus and Grigor gripped onto whatever sturdy fixtures they could find, their minds racing with the grim awareness of their dire situation.

"Hold on, old man!" Francus shouted over the tumult of creaking metal and distant explosions. Grigor nodded, his grizzled beard framing a face etched with concern. The two mercenaries navigated the tilting corridors with urgency, the flickering emergency lights casting eerie shadows on their determined faces.

The ship's descent into the atmosphere became a descent into a realm of fear and uncertainty. Explosions from the cargo hold echoed through the vessel, a deafening reminder of the imminent catastrophe. The hum of machinery turned into a cacophony of destruction as the ship hurtled towards the planet's surface.

Time seemed to stretch, and the air became heavy with the anticipation of impact. Every jolt of the falling ship sent tremors through Francus and Grigor, who clung to the hope of surviving the impending crash.

As the cargo ship breached the lower atmosphere, the temperature outside rose dramatically. The hull glowed with the fiery embrace of re-entry, casting an ominous glow within the ship's interior. The hull, weakened by the demonic attack, struggled to withstand the intense heat and pressure.

"Brace yourself!" Francus shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the ship's descent. Grigor nodded grimly, and the two mercenaries found a relatively sheltered spot, hunkering down as the inevitable collision approached.

The impact, when it came, was a cataclysmic eruption of sound and chaos. The cargo ship, once a symbol of Celestial Platoon's might, collided with the planet's surface with a force that shook the very core of its structure.

Explosions rippled through the ship like a series of violent aftershocks. Flames roared to life, consuming the once-pristine halls and compartments. The structural integrity of the vessel crumbled under the strain, collapsing like a house of cards.

The explosion was similar to that of a nuclear explosions, with massive mushroom cloud rushing towards the sky.

All the mercenaries that were assigned outside the cargo ship watched the explosion. There was a strange and sharp pain stabbing their heart.

After that pain, came anger and grief at failing to protect the lives of their comrades and the vital resources that will greatly aid their allies in the future.

All the mercenaries of the Celestial Platoon roared as water trailed from their eyes.

The local planetary forces were shocked to see this.

Why are they crying? Aren't they just mercenaries? Why are they so angry?

These type of questions appeared in their heart, however none dare to ask.

Still, one thing was clear. The mercenaries of the Celestial Platoon was extremely patriotic towards their organization!

Because, after the cargo ship fell. All the remaining spacecraft of the Celestial Platoon immediately threw themselves towards the demon.