We are what the old-world armies became after the night we lost the sky. We kept the chain of command, the hardware, the discipline — and we built the closest thing humanity still has to a state. Hierarchical. Patient. Impossible to rout. While the Pyre throws bodies into breaches that just reopen, we hold the lanes that keep the species breathing.
The species doesn't survive by charging the swarm. It survives by outlasting it. So we hold the chokepoints, break the swarm's density at the narrowest point, and cut it off from the Choir until whatever gets through arrives feral and alone. Towers. Walls. Attrition. Fragment the horde, isolate the horde, and let the math do the killing.
Survival over glory. Every wall held is a generation bought, and we intend to buy them all.
