Seated in front of the main control unit of the flying vessel, Nioh's gaze was unblinking, focused entirely on the grainy transmission unfolding on the central display. The interface glowed dimly, bathing his pallid features in an eerie bluish light. He sat in complete stillness—composed, but with a sharp, coiled tension that permeated the air around him.
"The electric bees are about to make contact with Biohive 81 in five minutes," X reported, scrolling through real-time readings. "Should we deploy?"
He was standing slightly behind Nioh, tablet in hand, his posture tense but professional.
Nioh didn't answer immediately. His red-tinged hair fell slightly over his brow, shadowing his hollow eyes. He studied the incoming swarm, lines of erratic movement flickering across the screen. After a moment's pause, he slowly shook his head.
