Arthur moved. He was a grey blur against the silver, pockmarked dust of the lunar surface, accelerating with a smooth, unnatural grace. His new, Divine-rank power made the act of traversing kilometers in the low gravity, airless environment as simple as walking across a room. Around him, high in the black, star-dusted void, the nascent battle was already erupting, a chaotic, silent pandemonium.
The human counter-invasion force, a tidal wave of ships, mages, and high-tech warframes, poured from the massive Grey seams he had torn in reality. They clashed immediately with the swarming demon fleet, a horrifyingly vast armada of bio-mechanical, miasma-weeping vessels. Blinding flashes of light—lance-fire, magical explosions, the catastrophic detonation of lesser ships—began to paint the darkness, a silent, desperate fireworks show over the vulnerable, beautiful Earth hanging in the sky.
