The snake-like door didn’t yield gradually. It shattered.
The diamond-tipped head of a five-ton air-powered siege-bore punched through the center of the green stone in a blinding shower of crushed rock and white steam. Through the gaping breach poured eight Synod Praetors clad in polished silver plate, their helmets shaped like screaming hawks, their heavy repeating crossbows firing nonstop volleys of ink-acid quarrels.
“Mira, down!” Ren shouted, throwing his body across his sister as stone splinters hissed through the air like shrapnel.
The quarrels struck the dark rock reading desk. It hissed wildly as packed aqua regia dissolved the stone into bubbling grey foam.
Ren didn’t reach for a sword. He didn’t invoke the Judge or the Saint. He rotated the triad anchor around the Warden’s key with blinding, gut speed.
Swap: Vanguard Alpha.
Swap: Kinetic Overdrive.
Swap: Egress Instinct.
