The moment they crossed the broken boundary of collapsed buildings and twisted metal that marked the outer edge of the guardian's territory, the Ether in the air changed.
It was no longer the thin, chaotic mist that drifted through most ruined zones. Here it gathered thick and heavy, swirling in dark orange currents as if the surroundings area had been set ablaze and the smoke never fully dispersed.
Faint sparks drifted between the ruined structures. The ground beneath their boots felt warm, almost pulsing, and every breath carried dry heat that scraped lightly against their throat.
The temperature rose steadily the deeper they advanced. It was not unbearable yet, but still felt unnatural. Like walking toward the mouth of a furnace that had been burning for days without rest.
They tightened formation without needing to be told.
Six from Michael's core unit including Michael himself. Ten from Myles' side.
