The Sanctus night air stank of Blight and burning rubber.
Kael crouched behind a half-crumbled wall, watching the Razor Teeth convoy through his tactical display. Three armored carriers, their hulls pulsing with sickly green light—Blight-infused Etherite cores, just as their intel suggested.
Behind him, Lerai's fingers danced through the air, weaving strands of pure Etherion into an invisible net.
"Defensive grid mapped," Lerai whispered through their secure channel. "Their wards are high-grade. Sloppy implementation though."
A hint of pride crept into his voice. Two months ago, he'd have struggled with even basic containment fields. Now he was dismantling military-grade defenses like they were practice dummies.
Kael gave the signal.