The bruised red sky above the stronghold was no longer a sky. It was an active, torn fabric of atmospheric violence, ripped wide by the sheer weight of Grey forces dropping through the clouds. Blue forks of lightning, thick as ancient trees, slammed into the courtyard, the outer battlements, and the black stone towers, turning the dark sky into an endless, blinding strobe. Below, the war was a roaring, messy meat grinder. Harbingers surged from the lower gates alongside Purge fighters with dark chi crackling red-white around their fists, colliding head-on with blue-armored Grey soldiers who met every strike with raw, lethal voltage.
Structures were already collapsing. Debris, stone, and severed armor showered the lower levels as the invasion ground its way inward.
