The black fog thickened with each step.
The air stung the eyes, a corrosive bite that chewed through filters and scorched the throat beneath the mask. Acidic rain fell in erratic sheets—yellow-green droplets that sizzled on contact with stone, steel, and flesh. Every impact hissed like meat hitting a forge.
Riven's boots hit the ground with a soundless thump.
The right flank was collapsing.
What had once been an iron-forged perimeter wall now lay in mangled shards—stone torn open, barriers melted, bodies scattered in pieces. He vaulted a snapped pylon, eyes sweeping through the smoke for movement.
Five enforcers followed behind—tight formation, masks sealed, weapons live. Their names didn't matter right now. Only their spacing.
Riven raised two fingers. Point. Split. Cover the breach.
Then the beasts emerged.
