Smoke and shadow hung low over the shattered remnants of the Tenebris Citadel.
Ruins sprawled beneath Leon's boots as he stepped cautiously over a pile of scorched obsidian. What had once been the proud heart of the Obsidian Order was now little more than fractured spires and collapsed corridors, charred by orbital bombardment and the desperate backlash of forbidden sorcery.
Behind him, the Black Fang Enforcers scanned the ruins in silence, wary of lingering residual energies. Even now, whispers of dissonant voices swirled in the air—echoes of the Order's final ritual before their downfall.
"Sir," Colonel Derven muttered, his visor flickering with alert markers, "I'm detecting void flux saturation. It's unstable."
Leon's eyes narrowed.
They weren't here to scavenge. They weren't here for glory.
They were here because something ancient had awakened beneath the Citadel—and the entire sector was holding its breath, waiting to see who would claim it first.
