FSHUUU!
The atmosphere in Outpost Seventeen shifted the moment the Devil crossed the defensive perimeter.
Every ward, every detection array, every mystical alarm designed to alert the garrison to threats—all of them registered his presence simultaneously.
The readings were so overwhelming that several monitoring devices simply overloaded, their enchantments unable to process mystical pressure of such magnitude.
Amara felt it before she saw him.
A weight pressing down on reality itself, as though existence struggled to accommodate something that exceeded normal limitations.
Her triple Art affinities resonated in response, recognizing power that transcended anything she'd encountered during her Academy training.
Captain Draven's voice came through the communication network, tight with controlled tension. "All personnel maintain positions. Category S Guards to the main lounge. This is a diplomatic reception of the utmost importance."
