The Sovereign Imperium turned its vast, terrifying military-industrial complex upon itself.
From the golden silence of the Eternal Forge, Zephyr watched the mobilization not through the eyes of a general on the ground, but through the absolute, macro-scale architecture of the divine grid.
He did not see soldiers marching in the mud. He did not see the terrified faces of the Rootist laborers barricading the eastern cities. He saw mathematics.
He watched as massive, heavy black lines—representing the armored columns of the Sovereign Legions—detached themselves from the Korthane border. For forty years, those lines had faced outward, a shield of steel and aether meant to protect the Imperium from the God of Law. Now, Zephyr watched them pivot, marching inexorably inward, drawing a tightening noose around the dense clusters of golden light that represented his eastern demographic.
Containment protocols active. Grid isolation commencing.
