The battlefield had fallen into an uneasy rhythm of chaos, with sections of combat where legends clashed, zones where ordinary soldiers fought supernatural creatures, and pockets of relative calm where the wounded were evacuated and defensive positions reinforced.
The bronze Citadel continued its patient humming, the runes on its surface pulsing with increasing frequency, as if counting down to some inevitable moment.
Then everything stopped.
Not physically, soldiers didn't freeze mid-swing, and magic didn't halt in mid-flight, but there was a shift in the fundamental atmosphere of the battlefield that made every combatant pause for just a fraction of a second.
It was the kind of change that preceded lightning strikes, the moment when the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
The massive bronze doors of the Citadel, which had remained sealed since the structure's appearance, began to open.
