The impact of the Sovereign Scepter against the central altar triggered a series of heavy clockwork locks deep within the outer edge walls of the Board.
CLACK-CLACK.
Around the outer rim of the vast circular chamber, massive slabs of eight-inch solid star-iron dropped from hidden recesses in the vaulted ceiling. Each drop-gate slammed into the dark rock floor with the bone-shaking weight of a falling siege tower, sealing every entrance, air-flow duct, and service hall leading out of the inner sanctum. Chunks of shattered stonework bounced across the floor as the airtight seals tightly packed with a dull, rubbery hiss, cutting off the chamber from the rest of the sky complex.
The air pressure inside the sealed dome right away began to drop.
A high-pitched sound hiss echoed from the ceiling vents as the sky scrubbers reversed their cycle, actively siphoning the breathable air out of the room to create a total heavy-duty empty pocket. The heat plummeted rapidly, frost beginning to feather across the polished marble edges of the dais and the dark flat stone slabs.
Lin Tao felt his ears click twice. The air pressure fell by fifteen percent in less than twenty seconds. The sensation was familiar—the cold, tightening grip of cabin depressurization.
