Below, the battlefield churned.
Where once teams had moved with tactical precision, now there was only frenzy. The Spire's fracture had flipped the script—positions collapsed, alliances dissolved, and all strategies turned reactionary. Even the most disciplined squads were unraveling under the weight of uncertainty.
Cruzer watched it all unfold with calm, calculating eyes.
Marin's visor lit with synchronized streams of information—team identifications, mana pulse readings, energy density fluctuations. "We've got fifteen squads converging. At least four are top-ten contenders. Kael Monteli's squad from Solaris is moving in from the east ridge."
Charlotte stepped beside her, flames low and steady in her palms. "Good. Let the golden boy see what happens when light meets void."
Zaya flicked a throwing knife between her fingers, watching with a fox's grin. "Two squads just took each other out trying to claim the southern ridge. No one's realized the Spire can't be claimed anymore."
