Leon felt the shift before it happened.
A whisper of air, the faintest distortion in the ruined street—his instincts, honed through countless battles, screamed a warning. His hand moved before thought, Shell Reverb flickering in a defensive pulse.
The ground split.
A fissure tore through cobblestone, jagged and abrupt, as though the earth itself recoiled. Black light poured upward in silence, swallowing sound before it could even be born.
Roselia flinched, her hands pressed to her ears though nothing could be heard. "This… isn't mana," she whispered, face pale. "It's absence."
The others drew closer to Leon, weapons already in hand.
And then—they emerged.
