The alarm klaxons wailed. From the bunkers and the barracks, the Syndicate garrison poured out. Five hundred soldiers. Ten Magma-Walkers. They formed a wall of steel and fire between Alvian and the city.
[Target: Syndicate Battalion]
[Strength: 500 Units]
[Threat: Moderate]
Magnus raised his shield, preparing to charge. "I'll take the left!"
"No," Alvian said, holding out a hand. "Stay back, Magnus. Watch."
Alvian stopped fifty meters from the army. The soldiers raised their rifles. The Walkers charged their cannons.
"FIRE!"
The air exploded. A wall of plasma, bullets, and magic rushed toward Alvian.
Alvian didn't block. He didn't dodge.
"System. [Void Sovereign]: Spatial Compression."
He raised his hand. He didn't aim at the soldiers. He aimed at the space between the soldiers.
"Gravity... is a suggestion."
He clenched his fist.
"CRUNCH."
It wasn't a sound of impact. It was the sound of space folding.
