The Omni-Web radar flashed a blinding amber warning across the primary monitor. Red leaned forward in the Void. He dismissed the live feed of the western refugees crossing the bridges and pulled up the northern quadrant.
Hundreds of new crimson blips materialized on the screen. The telemetry data tracked them three thousand feet above the ground. They bypassed the Continental Moat entirely and descended rapidly toward the City of Spiral.
"Of course," Red muttered. He tapped his fingers against the obsidian armrest. "If the ground is an industrial meat grinder, you take the sky. Very classic."
He maximized the visual feed. A massive armada broke through the cloud cover. Dozens of floating galleons constructed from glowing white crystal spearheaded the formation. Thousands of armored knights rode winged gryphons on the flanks. The mid-tier gods of the server had pooled their elite aerial cavalry for a decapitation strike on the Ash-Forge Crucible.
