The three silver astral beams high in the stratosphere cast a cold, metallic sheen over the rolling grey swells.
Across the water, the dark silhouettes of twenty-four Sanctuary dreadnoughts adjusted their trim.
On the bridge of The Void Lotus Adjudicator, Warden-Elder Moros gripped the rail with both gauntleted hands.
His sunken eyes burned with cold, mounting fury as he stared at the intact crescent of sixteen rebel warships ten miles to the south.
For two full days and nights, his fleet had pounded the outer reefs with thousands of heavy celestial shells.
Yet the rebel line had not bent an inch.
Their defensive crescent remained anchored across the deep trench mouth, solid as an iron wall.
“Enough of this probing,” Moros rasped, his voice vibrating through the bridge runes like grinding stones. “They are shielding their center with their strongest Saint Vessel experts. We will shatter the keystone.”
