The three paladins advanced in a tight, overlapping wedge formation. Their white armor hummed with a low, kinetic barrier frequency designed to deflect high-velocity projectiles. To them, the smoke-filled fabrication lab was statistically clear. Their tactical visors, tracking a massive gold mana signature that no longer existed, reported an empty grid square.
They didn't see the kid in the pitch-black, light-swallowing tunic standing on a shattered structural beam directly above them.
"Rora," Zayn whispered into his comms, his voice dropping below the decibel threshold of their acoustic sensors. "On my mark, redirect the auxiliary coolant vent to pressure line three. I need the humidity in this specific ten-foot radius to hit exactly ninety-four percent."
"Zayn, if I open that line, the condensation is going to drop the temperature to freezing in three seconds," Rora's voice buzzed back. "Your 30-percent muscles are going to lock up."
"My muscles are irrelevant," Zayn deadpanned. "The air density is what matters. Do it."
Zayn's battle IQ had already mapped the structural flaw in the Orthodoxy's Mark-II Crusaders armor. They were designed for high-altitude orbital deployments—vacuum sealed, heavily insulated against extreme heat, and packed with internal atmospheric regulators. But to keep the suits lightweight, the designers had used an integrated carbon-mesh chassis that relied on the outer armor plates to dissipate external electrical loads.
It was an elegant design. In a desert. In a dry spire.
But in a subterranean forge filled with vaporized hydraulic fluid and sudden, artificial humidity? It was a three-ton lightning rod.
"Mark," Zayn said.
Pssssshhh.
A thick, freezing plume of white coolant vapor erupted from a ruptured pipe near the ceiling, instantly mixing with the black smoke and settling over the paladins like a wet blanket. The moisture level in the air spiked immediately, coating their pristine white plates with a micro-layer of highly conductive condensation.
"Anomaly detected," the lead paladin's synthesizer droned, his visor flickering as the sudden drop in temperature forced his internal heaters to kick in. "Atmospheric shift. Adjusting internal pressure—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Zayn dropped from the beam. He didn't use a skill; his physical strength was too low to risk the mana drain. He simply used gravity. As he fell, his boots slammed directly into the severed high-voltage cable dangling from the ceiling.
Using the reinforced, nano-polymer soles of his new Midnight Tunic to insulate his own feet, Zayn kicked the raw, sparking 10,000-volt wire straight into the massive puddle of conductive hydraulic fluid beneath the paladins' boots.
The reaction was instantaneous and mathematically beautiful.
A blinding, violet web of electrical arc-lightning erupted from the puddle, climbing up the legs of the three white suits. Because the air was dense with moisture, the current didn't just strike them—it wrapped around them, finding the carbon-mesh chassis beneath the gold filigree.
BZZZZZZZZZT—
The paladins didn't even have time to scream. The internal systems of their suits short-circuited in a fraction of a millisecond. The active kinetic barriers inverted, turning inward and crushing their own internal stabilization gyros.
Inside the helmets, the gold visors flashed violently before shattering from the internal pressure of the exploding battery packs. The three massive soldiers stiffened, locked in place like white marble statues, as thick black smoke began pouring out of their joint seals.
[Environmental Kill Executed: 3x Orthodoxy Paladins (Level 22)]
[XP Gained: 12,000]
[Tactical Multiplier Applied: 1.5x (Zero Mana Expenditure)]
[Physical Output: 30% -> 33% (System Calibration Increment)]
Zayn landed softly on the dry concrete outside the puddle, his black tunic completely unblemished by the soot or the sparks. He adjusted his collar with a slow, deliberate flex of his fingers.
"A simple calculation," Zayn muttered, looking at the smoking, motionless armor units. "An ungrounded circuit always finds the path of least resistance. In this room, gentlemen, that was your pride."