The beams simply splashed harmlessly against his passive defenses. He walked up to the frozen, fleshy spire of the Beacon, raised his fist, and brought it down like a meteor. The ice shattered, the core ruptured, and the third tether died.
"Siberia is clear," Magnus reported calmly. "Valeria, your status?"
Deep in the Amazon Rainforest, the situation was far less controlled.
The jungle was burning, the verdant green replaced by the sickly, chaotic purple of the Convergence. Valeria stood in the center of a ruined temple, her breathing ragged, her boots sinking into the mud.
She was the Vanguard. She was the Tank. And she was taking a beating that would have pulverized a dreadnought.
