When three Diamond-Rank Praetorians strike at the same time, space itself ceases to be a passive medium.
It folds like crumpled foil.
The three huge executioners—Xylar, Vorak, and Vreth—didn’t lunge across the charred nursery floor. With a sound crack that sounded like tearing metal, their five-meter bodies dissolved into ribbons of violet light. They entered three distinct spatial fissures, each converging on Arthur Vance from three non-Euclidean angles: above, behind, and directly across his level plane.
The spatial pressure in the cave spiked to crushing levels.
Behind Arthur, Miller and his seven guard post soldiers collapsed against the dark rock support posts, blood trickling from their noses as their outside suits groaned under the invisible shear forces. Even Toby dropped to one knee. He grabbed his tactical console, unable to breathe as the local gravity map points twisted into knots.
“Arthur! Move!” Toby choked out through the comms.
Arthur didn’t move. His boots remained magnetically anchored to the dark rock bedrock.
“Cell Beta, ground the outer edge!” Arthur commanded through the Vance Transfixer. “Grimm, intercept Vorak! Vesper, take the vector!”
