The steel door to Elara's vault didn't just open; it disintegrated. A concentrated pulse of thermal energy turned the reinforced metal into a molten puddle, and through the cooling steam stepped the Iron Sentinels.
They were three meters of polished chrome and jagged edges, their "eyes" glowing with a cold, predatory crimson. Unlike the bulky scrap-drones Elara usually scavenged, these were the High Council's elite—mechanical knights powered by pure, distilled mana-cores.
"Subject: Elara of the Lowlands," the lead Sentinel droned, its voice a synthesized metallic rasp. "Possession of Level-Omega Artifact detected. Surrender, and your termination will be painless."
"I'm more of a 'difficult exit' kind of person," Elara muttered. She scrambled toward the ventilation shaft, her boots skidding on the stone floor.
"Tactical Analysis: Probability of escape via shaft: 12%," Valerius chimed in her mind. "Probability of survival if captured: 0.003%."
"Not helping, Archmage!" Elara yelled, leaping onto a stack of crates.
A Sentinel raised its arm, the limb transforming into a multi-barreled railgun. Thump-thump-thump. Slugs of enchanted lead tore through the crates just as Elara dove for the shadows. The impact sent a spray of splinters into her shoulder, but she didn't stop.
She reached into her belt and pulled out a "Static Bomb"—a crude device she'd made from leaked mana-cells. She tossed it over her shoulder.
CRACK.
The room didn't explode with fire. It exploded with glitch. For a few seconds, reality around the Sentinels stuttered. Their limbs moved in reverse, their optical sensors saw colors that didn't exist, and the floor beneath them turned into liquid data.
"System... Error..." the lead Sentinel sputtered, its joints locking as it tried to process the sensory noise.
"Resourceful," Valerius remarked. "But the glitch-field will collapse in ten seconds. I suggest you utilize the window."
Elara didn't need to be told twice. She hauled herself into the narrow, soot-covered ventilation shaft, the Silicon Heart glowing fiercely against her chest. As she climbed, she could hear the Sentinels rebooting below, their heavy metal fists pounding against the walls of the shaft, shaking the entire foundation of the vault.
She burst out onto the surface, the cold night air hitting her face. Below her, the Lowlands stretched out like a sea of rust. Above, the Floating Isles of Eldoria drifted mockingly, their lights flickering like dying stars.
"Where now?" she gasped, looking at the horizon.
"To the docks," Valerius replied, a map of the city's ley-lines appearing in her vision like a HUD. "We need a ship. One fast enough to outrun a god."