The two armies hit each other in the sky over Theravex, and the aether-storms turned to fire.
John Wicked's horde fell on the imperial fleet from above, thousands of Tier-60 monsters against twelve hundred imperial powerhouses, and the math that had looked so certain to the Empire a minute ago became a slaughter in motion.
Rexion led the charge.
The colossal flyer folded his city-block wings and dove straight into the heart of the imperial fleet, and the first warship he reached did not fire fast enough.
He took it in his jaws and broke it in half, Tier-60 hull crumpling like paper, and threw the two pieces into the ships behind it.
Imperial guns swung to track him, but Pymon had already gone to work.
The space around the fleet began to fold, escape routes pinching shut, formations sliding out of alignment as the distance between ships stretched and snapped, until the proud imperial armada could not even hold a line.
And then the horde was simply everywhere.
