Chapter 29

Edgar crouched low behind the remnants of a rusted vehicle, his sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. The air was thick with the metallic tang of magnetized debris, and faint cries of pain and struggle echoed from the distance. Somewhere beyond the piles of twisted steel, his team was waiting. Somewhere out there, Thief needed rescuing.

A sharp whistle cut through the air. Edgar’s head snapped toward the sound. Emerging cautiously from behind a barricade of scrap metal, Rhea, the team’s strategist, waved him over. Edgar darted across the rubble, his bone claws retracting momentarily to make his movement smoother.

“Took you long enough,” Rhea muttered, her voice tinged with relief. Beside her, Drax, the team’s powerhouse, offered Edgar a curt nod. The faint hum of Drax’s energy field buzzed around him, a constant reminder of the raw power he carried.

“I got held up,” Edgar replied, glancing at the map Rhea had drawn into the dirt. “What’s the situation?”