The squad spent fifteen minutes resting inside the sub-station while Jax cooled his core with an emergency thermal pack. Caine sat by the broken window, looking deeper into Ruin Zone 7.
The purple sky was darkening. High above the ruined city skyline, strange, shimmering ripples of blue light pulsed across the clouds—a clear sign of elevated Jahgred atmospheric density.
"The sensor grid didn't just fail," Caine said, breaking the silence. "Look at the horizon."
Lyra walked over, her face hardening as she observed the atmospheric distortion. "Energy surge. A regional core breach. That's why the beasts are migrating toward the wall."
"We should call for an immediate extraction," Jax said, struggling to his feet while clutching his shield. "We're an Auxiliary squad. We aren't equipped for a regional containment effort."
"We can't call extraction," Lyra said, showing them her locator device. The screen was covered in static lines. "The atmospheric energy is jamming low-frequency comms. We have to fall back to the Secondary Observation Outpost three miles north. It has a hard-wired landline back to the wall."
"Three miles through territory where Razor-Claws are running scared?" Jax groaned. "Great."
"We move low and fast," Caine said, taking the lead toward the rear exit. "Jax, keep your core quiet unless we get surrounded. Lyra, keep your scanner on short-range pulse only—don't let high-frequency pings draw attention."
Lyra nodded silently, falling into step behind him. Her attitude toward Caine had completely changed. She no longer treated him like a weak Level 10 liability; her eyes constantly tracked his right arm, watching for the strange, invisible force he kept unleashing.
They exited the sub-station and navigated through an overgrown residential alleyway. The cracked asphalt was buried beneath thick mats of blue moss that hummed with static electricity whenever their boots stepped on it.
Halfway to the outpost, Caine stopped, raising his hand.
"What is it?" Jax whispered.
"Footprints," Caine pointed to the mud near an overturned drainage pipe.
They weren't beast tracks. They were deep, heavy boot prints—standard military issue, but larger than normal. Alongside them were strange, drag-marks in the dirt, surrounded by tiny, melted specks of blue glass.
Lyra knelt down, touching one of the glass specks. "Refined crystal residue. This didn't come from a wild Jahgred. Someone was using high-density extraction tools here."
"Poachers?" Jax asked.
"Or an unsanctioned Academy team," Caine said grimly. "Someone was harvesting raw cores right before the beasts migrated."