Down on the wooden pier of the western shipyards, Iron-Scale watched a transformation sweep across the captured harbor. The sleeping Vanguard commanders began to stir one by one.
Gulag pushed aside the canvas flaps of the medical tent and stepped out into the morning light. The severe wounds from her berserker state were completely gone. A vibrant amber light radiated from her chest.
She raised her fist and clenched her fingers tight. A tremor shook the cobblestones beneath her boots as a dense gauntlet of compacted earth formed over her knuckles. She grinned at the display of pure physical mass.
Across the courtyard, Elder Syra glided out of an unlit alleyway. Her silver scales absorbed the surrounding light to create a localized shroud of darkness. Shifting energy trailed from her fingertips to weave intricate patterns of shadow over her daggers.
Within minutes, hundreds of elite warriors stood fully awake, each radiating a unique elemental signature.
