Aodhán crouched behind a stack of wooden crates, his eyes fixed on a pair of acolytes patrolling a seemingly natural warehouse nestled at the base of a grassy hill. The acolytes were dressed in flowing black and red robes, which shifted gently with the warm afternoon breeze, although the oppressive heat seemed to sap even the modest motions of life.

  With expressions dull and eyes glazed in boredom, the acolytes moved like marionettes guided by unseen strings. The rhythmic crunch of their boots against the dry earth was the only sound to be heard for miles.

  Until thunder rumbled.

  Aodhán looked up to see a small gathering of storm clouds in the sky and smiled. It wasn’t large enough to promise rain, but Aodhán hoped it would rain regardless. Those poor acolytes could use a reprieve from the sun’s unforgiving glare.

  Shifting to get a better vantage point, Aodhán adjusted his weight carefully, wincing as the dry grass crunched faintly beneath his boots. They were currently at the edge of Cresthaven, one of the border villages in sector 6, and in the last two weeks since their hunting began, this was the 17th cultist outpost they had uncovered and destroyed.

  Like most of the previous outposts, the warehouse was a large, pentagonal structure, conveniently located miles away from civilization. The building wasn’t exactly secluded, but it was far enough away from prying eyes that any suspicious activity could be easily hidden.

  Narrowing his gaze, Aodhán’s sharp eyes traced the acolytes’ patrol route, mapping their movements with meticulous precision. Time crawled forward, and three minutes later, Geneva’s voice crackled in through the communication pods in his ears, signifying that she had finally entered communication range.

  “What do you see?” She asked, and Aodhán replied immediately, detailing all that he could see as quickly as possible.

  “The outpost is made entirely of reinforced metal. I can sense a lot of runes, but not enough to be much of a hindrance. My core sense isn’t too accurate from this distance, but I would say there are about a hundred cultists within his base, all of them below the second milestone. There are a few above that, but their numbers are much harder to pin down.”

  “What else?” Geneva prompted a whistling sound echoing through the pods as she most likely flew towards his position.

  Shifting a patch of grass away from his eyes, Aodhán studied the outpost closely. Aside from the things he had mentioned, there didn’t seem to be anything different or special about this outpost, but Geneva was nothing if not thorough, and one thing he had learned during this hunt was that she almost always had all the information she needed already. Asking him was simply a way of training his mind to think wider and dig deeper.

  Forcing his mind to do just that, Aodhán scanned the building once more, his eyes narrowing in focus as he searched the area for something he had missed earlier. Thunder rumbled once again, the sound less distant than the previous one, but Aodhán didn’t spare the gathering clouds any attention.

  His entire attention was fixed on the outpost, searching the surroundings using both his sight and core sense. Still, he found nothing. Just as he was about to respond, though, his gaze suddenly caught a glint of black metal at the edge of the outpost.

  It was only for a moment, but Aodhán’s enhanced perception honed in on the oddity like a hawk catching prey. He focused his core sense on that particular area, probing the air for something that wasn’t quite right, and before long, the golden shimmer of runes revealed themselves, so numerous that they reached a height nearly three stories tall.

  “There is another building.” Aodhán gasped, shocked that his senses had failed to see it at first. It was amazing that the cultists had managed to cloak an entire building so thoroughly that had he not known that there was something he wasn’t seeing, he wouldn’t have seen it at all.

  “Correct.” Geneva’s voice crackled in his ears again, a smile obvious in her tone. “The building is being cloaked by someone in the advanced class, at least tier 50, but they aren’t very good judging by how quickly you saw through it.”

  Aodhán nodded in agreement. Had Geneva been the one cloaking the building with runes, he probably would probably walk right through the building without noticing. However, the real question here was why the building was cloaked.

  This was the first time they were experiencing such a thing with the cultists, who were more brawn than brains. The fact that they had cloaked an entire building simply meant they were hiding something important within it.”

  Frowning, he said. “I guess it’s safe to assume that the warehouse is a front then.”

  “That is very likely. One thing is certain, though: something very important or deeply nefarious is going on within that cloaked building, and we have to find out what it is. Wait for me; I’ll be there shortly.”

  “I’ll keep watch.” Aodhán replied, his gaze fixed on the cloaked area. What could the cultist possibly be hiding in that cloaked building? What could be so important that they needed a tier 50 awakened to cloak the building at all times? In the last two weeks, he had witnessed more atrocities than he cared to recall, atrocities that nearly made him lose his shit and tear the cultists to pieces, but none of those things had been hidden. What was so different about this one?

  As the minutes dragged on, his mind drifted back to everything he had learned about the Children of the Watch. Fanatics, driven by the mad desire to bring about the apocalyptic age of their patron god, Sárán Beithir, by forcefully uniting all of Lutia under the banner of his prophesied successor. Despite their zealotry, the grunge of their members were gutter trash individuals—rejects and thugs eager to grasp at the cult’s promises of purpose and power.

  After the last two weeks, Aodhán’s opinion of them had sunk to hell. Once, a part of him had feared them; now he couldn’t wipe them off the face of the earth fast enough.

  Fortunately, hunting the cultists wasn’t the only benefit of this mission. In only two weeks, he had visited a total of 4 new sectors. The first two days, they had spent in sector 11 to flush out half a dozen cultist outposts, after which they had traveled to sector 9 to do the same.

  The energy density in sector 9 had been surprising to say the least, and so was the number of evolved and advanced individuals, but when Aodhán asked Geneva about the weird phenomenon, she had gently brushed him off, stating that it was nothing for him to be concerned about. Her response had surprised him because she had answered all of his questions before that, planting ideas and seeds of deep thoughts with each answer she offered.

  The oddity had stayed with Aodhán for days, and of course, he’d brought it up again, but then Geneva’s response had been the same, a casual shrug, a half smile, and the words, Don’t worry about it.

  But Aodhán did worry, especially after he saw a barrack filled with the royal guards stationed at Amaryllis, a beautiful city located near the border of the sector. The sight of the familiar uniform raised questions in his mind, and Aodhán finally concluded that there was something very important to Ragnarok in this sector that they wanted to keep hush-hush, something even more valuable than the Areli tree back in the Warren.

  After leaving sector 9, they had traveled to sector 4, a place so filled with water that the natives had managed to build a ton of fascinating infrastructures—floating cities interconnected by sleek bridges, submerged tunnels reinforced with crystal-clear barriers, and towering spires that pierced through the shimmering waves, all powered by an intricate network of aquatic energy systems.

  There, he and Geneva had only managed to destroy three cultist outposts, but because of the beautiful scenery, they had both decided to stay back for a few days and take a break from hunting and killing.

  The time off had granted Aodhán the opportunity to practice his runes with Geneva. Needless to say, it was an opportunity of a lifetime.

  Geneva didn’t exactly sit with him or hover around him while he practiced, but she was somehow always present to guide and correct him whenever he made mistakes, going so far as to provide him alternative methods to draw the runes quicker.

  “Many people don’t understand the language of runes, including those who teach it.” She had said to him on that first night after he finally perfected the impact rune, which was the 14th rune in the runic alphabet. Taking his inscriber from his hand, she explained. “Runes are a magical language, which means they can come with numerous meanings, hence the complex swirls and curves attached to them. Being a runic master requires a far more intimate knowledge of runes than just perfecting them. Take LUMUS, for instance; you can use that single rune as a base for so many things, be they conceptual or elemental.”

  She waved a hand, creating a chain of light runes in the air, but just like every other time she had ever created initiate runes, Aodhán noticed it was far more simple in structure yet more complicated to understand.

  “This is the difference between a real runic master and some random professor. I know exactly what I want my runes to do, and I’ve cut off all other commands or intents from it, drastically simplifying its structure. I want a light rune to shine, not grant me mental clarity or create illusions. I don’t want it to create heat either, nor do I want it to dispel evil. Knowing exactly what I want and what each curve or swirl does is what simplifies my casting and makes it almost instantaneous. Of course, I didn’t come to understand this in a day, and I don’t expect you to, but it will do you great good to put those textbooks aside and actually learn the heart of runes for yourself.”

  It was safe to say Aodhán’s life had not remained the same after that. He had delved back into his practice notes, restarting his journey of learning runes not for the purpose of perfecting them but to know and understand them on a more intimate level. Geneva had left him to himself after that, although she was never too far away, and Aodhán had devoted himself to the study of a language long forgotten.

  He activated runes using his willpower and ambient essence, watching the flow of energy to try and discern the function of each superfluous addition to the rune structure. At one point, he tried to inscribe the core of the rune alone, discarding all the curves and swirls around it, but he soon ran into the problem of where to fix the activation circle or how to channel any intent into the rune.

  Two days passed in that manner, and while he hadn’t learned any new runes, his understanding of the old ones had improved significantly, reducing his inscribing time by nearly a quarter.

  Aodhán had been reluctant to leave the sector as its cool aura had suited him so perfectly, but their break was over, and they still had a ton of cultists to eradicate. Deciding to return as soon as the mission was over, Aodhán and Geneva had left the sector to continue their hunt.

  It had been five days since then, and during that time, Aodhán had taken down more cultists than in all their previous hunts combined. Some he beat to a pulp, and others, he simply amputated, but he tried never to take it too far and usually stopped as soon as Geneva began hyping him up to go for the kill.

  “They are killers and perverts, Aodhán! Kill them.” She would insist, but he always refused—not because he couldn’t, but because he knew that once he crossed that line, there would be no going back. No second chances.

  So far, he had managed to avoid killing anyone, leaving that part to Geneva, who was simply the most efficient large-scale murderer he had ever seen. She was so meticulous and clean that it was so much easier to stomach the deaths of hundreds because of how unrealistic they felt—like watching pieces being swept off a chessboard.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Geneva’s blazing core entered his core sense range. She appeared beside him a moment later, smiling when she saw him covered in dirt and grass.

  “You didn’t need to ruin your uniform. A simple cloaking rune would have sufficed.” She said, and Aodhán shrugged.

  “I haven’t learned that one yet.” He glanced at the clock at the edge of his status screen and smiled. “You cleaned up the last outpost faster than I thought you would.”

  “Pfft,” Geneva grunted. “I would have done it faster if you had just helped me kill those maggots.”

  Aodhán chuckled. “To be honest, I nearly did, but I’m glad I’ve been able to hold on to my innocence for a few hours more.”

  “Hmm. Good for you. Let’s hope you’re able to hold on to it for the entire break.”

  Aodhán chuckled and shook his head. “Fingers crossed.”

  “Fingers crossed.” She echoed in amusement before turning her attention to the outpost, which was now cast in a long shadow due to the gathering clouds. Her expression turned serious, and with a hand gesture, she branded Aodhán with a cloaking rune and said. “Why don’t we get a closer look?”

  Aodhán grinned, glad to finally be doing something, and without hesitation, he created a platform for himself and zoomed forward, moving nearly at full speed, yet lagging several feet behind Geneva. They stopped about a hundred feet above the building, and this time when Aodhán spread his senses into the outpost, he received a much clearer picture of their opponents.

  The cloaking runes had messed with his senses, but now that he was closer, Aodhán realized that his assumptions had been way off. There were more than 300 cultists within the outpost, more than half of whom were unevolved individuals with limited cores.

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  Their average tier still remained the same, but there were more people above the 2nd milestone than he’d initially assumed. However, those who were in the advanced class could be counted on one hand.

  Turning his attention to the cloaked building, Aodhán sharpened his core sense, narrowing his perception to a fine point and even employing a ton of willpower to back it up. That was when he finally detected the cloak Awakened Geneva had mentioned earlier. The individual was slightly weaker than Geneva had thought—only at the 47th tier, but from the dimness of their core, Aodhán doubted they would ever reach tier 50, not to mention the 3rd milestone.

  “So, any new information?” Geneva prompted, and Aodhán nodded, reporting all the new information he’d gotten from core sense. When he was done, he added. “If you take the advanced class cultists, I can handle the rest.”

  “Is that so?” Geneva raised an amused eyebrow and smirked. “You against nearly three hundred cultists? Even for a champion, that’s a little overconfident.”

  “Maybe.” Aodhán admitted with a shrug. “But I would like to try. You could always swoop in to save me if things get dire.”

  Geneva chuckled. “Oh honey, I would swoop in. If things get dire, then you’ll just have to fight your way out of it. Alone.”

  Aodhán swallowed nervously but nodded anyways. “I still want to try.”

  “Well, then—Geneva deactivated the cloaking rune that hid him and gestured towards the outpost below them—what are you waiting for?”

  Aodhán looked down, his eyes narrowing on the two acolytes still patrolling the outpost. Perhaps he was being overconfident, but Aodhán truly felt like he could do it. Their numbers were daunting, but their strength really was nothing to write home about. Besides, if things truly became dire, he could always rely on Varéc to create some breathing room.

  Steeling himself, Aodhán took in a deep breath…and let himself fall.

  He plummeted to the ground like a rocket, and the moment the acolytes sighted him, the shrill scream of an alarm plunged the whole outpost into chaos. Aodhán landed at the center of the outpost with a crash, feeling a powerful surge of force rush into his body as {Surging Momentum} absorbed a percentage of the impact of his landing.

  Still, debris flew in all directions as a crater formed beneath him, nearly three meters in diameter, adding to the chaos that had erupted around him. Cultists ran out of the buildings, eyes wide in fear as they had most likely heard of the other outposts being raided and destroyed, and as expected, they all tried to run.

  However, before any of them could even take a step, a barrier of shimmering runes suddenly materialized out of thin air, making it impossible for anyone to teleport or even walk out of the outpost. The cultists were trapped with him, and Geneva was nowhere in sight.

  There was only a moment of pause before the cultists decided to attack, but that moment was all Aodhán needed. Clasping the necklace to assure himself of its presence, Aodhán raised a hand to the gathering clouds, which had grown ever so beautifully, and activated {Vortex of Storm}, channeling a large amount of energy and willpower into it.

  Thunder boomed as the dark clouds roiled and began rotating into a vortex, causing the winds to pick up drastically. It descended quickly, and just as the first cultist reached him, the vortex smashed into the warehouse with so much force that the entire structure crumbled, causing another eruption of debris, metal, and concrete that threw many of the cultists off balance.

  Roaring, the cultist nearest to him slashed forward with a rusty dagger, but Aodhán simply dodged and punched the man, causing him to stumble directly into the path of a large slab of concrete. The concrete slab slammed into the man with crippling force, shattering bone and throwing him back several feet.

  Another attacked, but a quick swipe of Varéc’s claws amputated his hands, causing blood to spurt out uncontrollably. The man screamed, but Aodhán barely had the chance to knock him out before the others descended upon him.

  As if he would ever give them the chance.

  Lightning surged out of him in a blinding wave, engulfing the cultists nearest to him and nearly shocking them to death had Aodhán not pulled back on the skill in time. Still, the lightning their bodies had absorbed ran rampant through them, causing them to spasm and freeze in agonized contortions.

  Despite pulling his punches, his skills were too strong for the cultists, and before long, the ground was slick with blood, littered with charred flesh and the amputated limbs of dozens of cultists.

  Lightning and cutting winds tore through wooden beams and metal supports, shattering the warehouse as if it were a house built of cards rather than brick and concrete. Explosions rocked the entire structure, and a roar of outrage soon followed.

  While the vortex of the storm tore the warehouse asunder, Aodhán released beams after beams of lightning, tearing through the mob of cultists trying to tear him down. The beams were charged enough to actually hurt anyone, but it certainly made them wish they had died as their bodies spasmed uncontrollably, twitching as lightning rampaged through them.

  It was in that moment, while Aodhán sliced a man’s hands in two, that the cloak awakened finally burst out of the hidden building, followed by a dozen other advanced class cultists, all dressed in flowing black robes that identified them as devotees. With a concerted effort, they rushed towards Aodhán, malice and hatred plain on their faces. That was when Geneva revealed herself. A single hand motion was all she made, and all thirteen heads fell to the ground, their blood-spurting bodies following soon after.

  Aodhán glanced at the thirteen dead bodies now spurting blood onto the floor and shook his head in amazement. Like he had said earlier, Geneva was nothing if not efficient.

  Their deaths didn’t faze Aodhán, who had seen more death in the last two weeks than he had in his entire lifetime. He would probably have spared the bleeding bodies something more than a glance, but with hundreds of cultists attacking him left, right, and center, it was a miracle he had even noticed their deaths in the first place.

  Dodging a wave of fire from a nasty-looking fire awakened, Aodhán opened up his spirit to the origin plane, his breath hitching as chaos rushed into his spirit. The mixture of pain and pleasure fueled him, and with a furious roar, he raised a hand to the sky and activated {Vortex of Lightning}.

  Like a river of fiery malice, the vortex descended and merged with the Vortex of Storm, still tearing the outpost apart and throwing debris in all directions. The merge of both skills caused another terrible explosion, drowning out the screams and cries of the cultists as they were thrown in the air and flung about by the cutting winds.

  Some smashed into wooden beams, some into metallic spikes that completely ran them through, while others were slammed against the previously cloaked building of concrete and metal with so much force that they were almost instantly knocked unconscious. The death of the cloak awakened had revealed the three-story building they had been hiding, and even without entering, Aodhán could feel a heavy sense of malice and evil emanating from it.

  With the cloaked building now exposed, their leaders dead, and the warehouse destroyed, the cultists scrambled, trying to evade the swirling tempest that was Aodhán, but it was all for naught. The powerful winds raised them into the air and slammed them back down, leaving many of them crippled and bleeding on the floor.

  “You’re holding back.” Geneva’s voice reached him through his communication pods, distinct, despite the howling sounds of the wind.

  “I’m trying not to kill them.” Aodhán shouted back, pushing back his nausea as more cultists died under his onslaught.

  “They are killers, Aodhán! They do not deserve your mercy.” Geneva insisted like she always did, but this time Aodhán noticed that her tone was different. Pained. Heartbroken.

  Searching around for her blazing core, he found her in front of the cloaked building, dozens of mutilated children at her feet, their heads branded with what seemed to be the remnant of a forbidden ritual. Behind the dead children stood about a dozen malnourished children between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, eyes wide with fear and bodies shivering in shock.

  These were children. The ones who were still alive were a bit older, but the dead ones… they couldn’t have been more than six years old or seven. Nausea and rage exploded within him, and with gritted teeth, he asked. “What…what happened to them?”

  “They were test subjects for the creation of blood awakeneds. These dead children you see were used to create a perfect environment in preparation for their awakening.” Geneva’s hands tightened into fists, and she glared out at the scrambling cultists, saying,. “I understand your hesitance to kill, but these people deserve far more than death, and if you will not kill them, I—

  “Oh, I will kill them. Just you watch and see.”

  Aodhán’s words were as cold as ice, and although he burned with righteous rage, it was as if all his emotions had shut down in the face of such atrocity. The cultists screams blurred into white noise, meaningless against the storm raging in his mind, and without hesitation, he raised a hand to the scrambling cultists and activated {Lightning Beam—Red}, channeling nearly a dozen willpower strands into the skill.

  The beam tore out of his hands in twin crimson streams, blazing with such ferocity that even Aodhán staggered from the recoil. The searing beams scorched the air, creating a sharp, acrid tang as they punched through the first row of cultists like paper. Bodies exploded into charred fragments, limbs and intestines vaporized before they even hit the ground.

  The shockwave from the attack rippled outwards, hurling debris and cultists alike across the ruined compound. Aodhán didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. Each surge of lightning was fueled by raw rage. Where before he had pulled his punches, now there was no mercy.

  Rocketing forward with a burst of force released by {Surging Momentum} for added impact, Aodhán proceeded to rain destruction on every cultist he found. Attacks rushed towards him as cornered cultists put their all in the last attacks, but they all failed against the chilling intensity of his rage.

  Still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to cause more destruction. To kill them the same way they had killed those children, and with an explosive surge of electricity, he released Varéc from his spirit.

  Varéc emerged with a beam of raw electricity that utterly obliterated a dozen cultists in an instant. Dismissing the vortexes, Aodhán switched to a much more dangerous skill, and the clouds above rumbled with thunder as they were suddenly covered in a river of black lightning.

  But it still wasn’t enough. Not even close.

  Aodhán’s eyes blazed as he harnessed a whole seal, channeling every ounce of quintessence into {Lightning Descent}, and in an utterly magnificent explosion of violence, the river of black lightning descended and transformed every single thing to ash.

  Unsurprisingly, some of the stronger cultists survived. One of them, a mundane-class tier 32 woman, tried to run, but Aodhán blinked forward and smashed her head against the concrete. Blood and brain matter exploded, but Aodhán barely even noticed as he rushed towards the next survivor, ramming his head through with a spear of green lightning that exploded in a shower of sickly purple veins and pus.

  Aodhán flitted from corner to corner, activating skills and perks in frightening succession as he cut down every single survivor. No one could hide from him, and even those who feigned death found no escape. Lightning tore through the area in a never-ending wave of violence and explosion.

  In minutes, dozens of cultists fell to Aodhán’s singular rampage.

  It was a chilling sight to witness Aodhán act so bestial and unhinged, but despite his rage, Aodhán was perfectly in control of himself and aware of his actions. With a cry, he cut down the last cultist, stabbing a lightning spear directly into her brain and exploding it, causing a shower of blood and brain matter to erupt into the air.

  With heavy breaths, he turned to look at the children who had been taken captive, watching as some of them collapsed or outright sobbed in relief. Their pain brought tears to Aodhán’s eyes, and he suddenly felt in need of comfort himself.

  Shuddering, he took in the devastation he had caused. Blood and viscera littered the floor, painfully obvious against the carpet of ash that blanketed the whole compound.

  He had crossed the line but didn’t regret it and would do it again in an instant.

  Feeling so tired after the use of so much energy, Aodhán sat down right there on the floor, surrounded and covered in the blood of cultists. The howling sounds of sirens filled the air, and a minute later, a host of security officials arrived, taking the children into ambulances and trying to speak to them. Only a few of them managed to speak; others simply bawled and cried, asking to see their parents.

  Geneva came to sit beside him, and Aodhán leaned against her, needing the strength and comfort she offered. She stroked his hair gently and whispered. “Don’t think of the deaths and destruction you’ve caused; instead, think of the children you’ve saved. Look at them, Aodhán.”

  Aodhán looked, watching as a frantic mother raced into the area, screaming her daughter’s name. The bawling girl rushed towards her mother, and Aodhán felt a lump in his throat ease as the mother wrapped her arms around her daughter and cried in relief.

  “We are champions, Aodhán; you will be very soon.” Geneva continued. “This is what we do. We kill and fight to protect. Remember that always, and in the case of overwhelming guilt, remember the smile on that mother’s face. Remember the children you saved here. You are a hero, Aodhán. Never forget it.”

  Aodhán closed his eyes and sighed. “I won’t forget it.”

  Silence descended between them, but after a while Geneva moved to speak to some of the security officers. Reporters from the 6th sector soon filled the area, but thankfully, none of them approached him.

  Aodhán watched the scene for a while, watching as more and more children were reunited with their parents, crying and hugging. Wiping tears from his eyes, Aodhán looked away from the emotional scene and turned his attention to his status screen, noting the changes and improvements he had made in the last two weeks.

  [STATUS]

  Name: Aodhán Ashoka-Brystion.

  Title: Neophyte, Storm Spirit, Bronze, Origin Marked, Seal Bearer (2), Silver, Amateur Runesmith, Amateur Runescholar.

  Class: Evolved storm awakened: 99.9% (PENDING)

  Tier: 23—72%

  Glimpse—>Opening: Increases elemental affinity and abilities by 2.5%.

  Techniques: Perfect will imbuement (11), Energy Enhancement (Crude), Empathic Link, Veil of Shrouded Mind (Forbidden), Choose Target (Basic)

  Skills {Innate}: [Storm creation and manipulation] [Lightning creation and manipulation]

  {Other}: [Lightning Surge] [Lightning Beam] [Lightning Descent] [Create Constructs] [Absorb Lightning] [Spear Rain—Lightning] [Spear Rain—Storm] [Vortex of Lightning] [Vortex of Storm] [Elemental Lightning—Stage 1] [Eye of the Storm, Passive] [Surging Momentum]

  Bloodline: Origin storm supremacy. {Unique}

  ? Amplifies storm abilities by 3% + {Eye of the Storm, passive}

  ? Grants major resistance to lightning

  ? Aura of Origin supremacy.

  Familiar—Dragonkin (Fury)

  Perks: Psychic bond, Merge, Berserk.

  Choose Target: A wide area technique that grants the user the ability to apply the effects of a skill to a large number of people within a limited range.

  Reading through his improvements distracted him from the chaos around him, and after analyzing every single thing on the screen, Aodhán felt much calmer. The children had all been taken away by the time he looked back, leaving only a few security officers and reporters still hanging around.

  Sighing, Aodhán pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand beside Geneva, ignoring the flash of cameras that followed his movements. Geneva glanced at him and smiled, cutting off her conversation with a security officer to focus her attention on him.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Tired. I think I need to sleep.”

  “Okay, I’ll just wrap this up, and we can leave.” She turned her attention back to the security officer and said. “There are a lot of items in the building. I want them transported to Fort Dominion immediately, where they can be scanned and valued.”

  The officer saluted and began barking out orders to his subordinates as he walked towards the previously cloaked building. Geneva turned her attention back to him and said. “Come, we’ll discuss your share of the items later. Let’s get you a bed first.”

  Aodhán nodded, but they had barely taken more than a few steps out of the compound when the sky was suddenly rocked by a thunderous explosion that cracked the aerial shields, and caused a wave of crimson flames to spread across the sky.

  The flames rushed into the sector’s atmosphere, and for a moment, it seemed like a simple origin breach—until their eyes caught the silhouettes of armored figures behind the fiery wave.

  “Oh shit.” One of the security officers muttered as the two figures slipped in through the crack. And then came the beasts.

  A literal wave of creatures poured into the sector, a writhing, roaring mass that stretched for miles in every direction. Their snarls and howls merging into a deafening chorus of chaos.

  “By the Ascendants! It’s the Sunstonians.” Another officer screamed, scrambling back in fear as the horde expanded across the horizon.

  Aodhán’s heart raced, and with growing panic, he glanced at Geneva. “How can I—”

  “You can’t help.” Geneva cut him off, and before he could protest, she grabbed him by the neck and hurled him into a hastily created portal.

  The sudden suction gripped him tightly, yanking him into the portal in one violent motion. Helpless against the suction of the portal, Aodhán watched as Geneva flew towards the sky, an explosion of energy and shimmering red runes unfurling around her, expanding to blanket the entire area.

  The portal snapped shut before he could see anything else, and with a violent tugging motion, the world disappeared from view.