The scream of the steam was deafening. It wasn't the clean, digital chime of an alert; it was the howl of ancient pipes bursting under a pressure they were never meant to hold again. The wall of white vapor blinded the Stalkers, sending them screeching back into the shadows of the refinery, but the victory was a poison pill.
The ground beneath us began to vibrate—a deep, rhythmic shudder that signaled the collapse of the canal bank.
"The pressure!" the Geometry Lead screamed, his voice thin against the roar. "Leo, you’re blowing the sub-strata! The mud is liquefying!"
He was right. The white steam was cooking the toxic sludge, turning the firm bank into a treacherous, boiling soup. I looked back toward the anchor. Kael’s massive rig, the only thing keeping the bridge from falling into t
