The night cracked open.
Not with sound.
With pressure.
A sudden, suffocating weight fell upon the ravine—an invisible hand pressing down on every soldier's lungs, squeezing the breath from their chests. Dust quivered in the air. Pebbles jittered on the ground. Torches dimmed as if bowing.
Atheon froze mid-step.
His elite squad froze with him.
Every instinct sharpened into a single, razor-thin conclusion.
It was here.
The Adept-tier crawler had arrived.
Not from the direction they expected.
Not from the range they prepared for.
It was already above them.
"SHIELD!" Atheon roared.
Too late.
The terrain itself exploded.
Bone and stone rained down as a colossal shape dropped from the shadows like a living guillotine. The Adept-tier crawler landed in the center of the formation, its legs digging trenches into the earth, the impact sending half the squad flying.
Some initiates were too terrified, their screams got stuck in their throat.
