Julian processed this. The Progenitor Blight wasn't just mindless corruption. In large enough concentrations, it developed a crude, fungal intelligence. A hive mind centered on a monstrous apex predator. And this one had fed on the psychic backlash of a dying "Seed."
"New objective," Julian subvocalized, his team hearing him clearly. "The Titan isn't just another big mutant. It's a focal point, a conductor for the Blight. Killing it may disorient the horde, create a window for retreat. Possibly even give us a sample of Blight that's been supercharged by Origin energy."
"Charming thought," Veronica muttered, enchancing a handful of scrap metal into jagged caltrops which she scattered behind them. "Let's go poke the super-zombie heart. Why not."
They reached the edge of what was once City Hall plaza. The scene was apocalyptic art. In the center, where the grey dust mound of the anomaly lay, the Titan stood.
