Below, Rus had turned into something that no longer felt like a city under siege, but a battlefield written across the sky.
People in the streets had stopped running.
Not because the danger was gone—but because it was no longer something they could outrun.
Every few seconds, the heavens above would fracture with bursts of pressure, cold shockwaves, and rippling distortions in the air that made even standing feel unstable. Buildings creaked under indirect force. Ice formed in unnatural patterns along rooftops and shattered moments later from sheer impact pressure alone.
And all anyone could do was look up.
Because what was happening above them had surpassed anything ordinary soldiers or citizens could meaningfully comprehend.
