The droplets weren't liquid.
As they fell from the pulsating world-wound, they took on form, hardening into spindly, insectoid shapes of the same light-devouring material as the Archon's armor. They were small, no bigger than a large dog, with too many legs and razor-sharp, scythe-like claws. They moved with a twitching, unnatural quickness, their bodies scuttling through the air as if gravity were a suggestion they were only half-heeding.
They were Vyr's antibodies. A swarm of lesser predators, dispatched to sterilize a contaminated zone.
The first one landed on the roof of a half-collapsed tenement, its claws digging into the stone with a dry, scraping sound. It didn't have eyes, but its entire body swiveled, sensing, a predator tasting a new environment.
"They're coming!" Lyssara's voice was a sharp, panicked crackle from the comm-stone. "Dozens of them! They're pouring out of the tear!"
Kaelith, without a word, broke from his post. He ripped the gray standard from the ground and charged into the square, a roaring, defiant mountain of muscle and faith. He was no longer a witness. He was a soldier in a holy war, and his god was bleeding beside him.
"My Lord, fall back!" the War-Priest bellowed, planting himself between Ravi and the descending swarm. "Let me be your shield!"
[Futility,] the Archon's cold thought echoed in Ravi's mind, a flat, dispassionate statement of fact. [The children of the echo will cleanse this aberrant world. All that is… will be unmade.]
The Archon itself didn't move. It simply stood, a silent commander, allowing its swarm to do the dirty work. It had judged this world, and Ravi, unworthy of its direct attention. It was a profound, calculated insult.
One of the scuttling horrors on the rooftop launched itself. It leaped a fifty-foot arc through the air, a black, chitinous missile aimed directly at Kaelith's head. Its claws screeched, hungry for purchase.
Kaelith roared and swung the heavy, iron-shod base of the battle standard in a massive, sweeping arc. It was a crude, desperate blow, but backed by the War-Priest's formidable strength. He was a man fighting a nightmare with a flagpole.
The standard connected.
There was no clang of metal on chitin. The moment the iron base of the standard made contact with the creature, the horror simply… came apart. Like the Automaton's axe, it dissolved into a shower of black, glittering dust, its physical form collapsing under a force it was not designed to withstand. Kaelith's follow-through swung through empty air.
The War-Priest stared, stunned, at the dissipating cloud of black particles. "It... It is of this world?" he stammered.
Ravi's mind raced, a sudden, desperate hope igniting. Vyr was an absolute from another reality, immune to his touch. But its children, the "rain" it had summoned... they were different. To exist here, to interact, to fight… they had to be made of here. They were constructs, woven from the fabric of Vaelorra, animated by the Archon's will.
They were vulnerable. They could be unmade.
This wasn't just a fight. It was a target-rich environment.
Another half-dozen of the scuttling horrors landed in the square, their multiple legs clicking on the rubble. They swarmed forward, a tide of twitching black blades.
Ravi ran to Kaelith's side. "The standard!" he commanded. "Give it to me!"
Kaelith, his faith roaring back to life, handed him the heavy pole without hesitation. It was a clumsy, unbalanced weapon. It was perfect.
The first creature lunged. Ravi didn't bother with a graceful parry. He simply held the standard out like a bar, a purely defensive block. The creature slammed into the wood and dissolved into a puff of black dust. No impact. No force. Just… gone.
It was almost easy. Too easy.
Another two swarmed him from the sides. He spun, the long standard swinging in a wide, clumsy circle. Both creatures made contact with the pole and vanished from existence.
"Lyssara," Ravi said into the comm-stone, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "They can be killed. Unmade. They're just… constructs."
"I see it," her voice came back, tight with a terrified excitement. "But Ravi… there are hundreds of them. They're spreading out from the Warrens. They're not just attacking you. They're attacking the city."
His blood ran cold. He had been so focused on his own battle, he hadn't seen the larger strategy. Vyr wasn't just trying to kill him. It was waging a war of terror. It was sterilizing the entire city, proving the truth of its earlier threat. Local reality is forfeit.
"This isn't just my fight," Ravi whispered, the terrible weight of his choice crashing down on him. He had summoned this storm. Now it was raining on everyone.
He looked past the swarm, at the motionless, observing form of the Archon. It didn't care about its children. They were disposable, a means to an end. The real battle was still with it. But how could he get close? How could he fight an enemy who refused to engage, who simply stood back and let its endless minions wear him down?
"My Lord," Kaelith's voice was a low growl beside him. The War-Priest had drawn his ceremonial hammer, a heavy, rune-etched block of steel. He slammed it into one of the creatures that got too close. The monster, which had dissolved against Ravi's standard, was merely thrown back by the mundane blow, screeching, its black carapace unscratched. The creatures were physically durable, it seemed. Only Ravi's specific brand of unmaking was a true counter.
They were a small island in a rising tide of black, chittering horrors. They could hold this ground, yes. But the city was burning.
The psychic voice of the Archon returned, a cold, final judgment in his mind.
[Observe, Anomaly. The fruits of your defiance. Every scream in this city is a testament to your choice. Every life extinguished is a consequence of your selfish need to protect a reality that is already dead. Surrender, and I will end their suffering.]
It was a new kind of trap. A moral checkmate. Vyr was holding the entire city hostage, and the ransom was Ravi himself. Every monster he destroyed was a meaningless victory while hundreds more swarmed through the streets, unopposed.
He felt a wave of absolute, soul-crushing despair. Vyr was right. It was inevitable. His every action, from defiance to resistance, only made the suffering worse. He was trapped in a game he couldn't win.
And then, a new sound cut through the chaos. Not the screech of the monsters or the roar of Kaelith.
It was the sharp, piercing report of a glyph-rifle.
A bolt of pure, white-hot energy slammed into one of the creatures, blasting it into pieces. From the rooftop of a nearby, still-standing building, a figure in dark, briar-crested armor stood up, smoke curling from the barrel of a long, elegant rifle.
Another figure appeared beside her. Then another. Aurelise's agents.
On the other side of the square, a line of Warden's Watch, their shields locked, marched into the fray, their captain roaring orders. Purple-robed magisters stood behind them, launching bolts of crackling energy into the swarm.
Even the silver-robed priests of the Choir appeared, chanting, their faith generating shimmering shields of golden light that repelled the creatures' claws.
They weren't fighting for him. They weren't fighting for each other. They were fighting for their city. The monstrous, tangible threat of the swarm had done what politics and faith never could. It had given them a common enemy.
Lyssara's voice was a breathless, awestruck whisper in his ear. "Ravi… they're fighting. They're all… they're fighting together."
The factions of Vaelorra, the enemies who had been at each other's throats an hour ago, were now locked in a desperate, united battle against the falling rain. And in that moment, seeing the impossible alliance he had inadvertently forged, Ravi finally understood.
Vyr had made a critical, arrogant mistake. It had dismissed the people of this city as irrelevant, as mere collateral. It didn't understand them. Their stubbornness. Their fury. Their desperate, irrational will to live.
But Ravi did. Because he was one of them. A broken, terrified, but stubbornly defiant human.
The Archon had given him an ultimatum. But it had also, finally, given him an army.