Iron-Scale sheathed his star-iron daggers and stepped back from the canyon edge. The destruction of the Manticore left a perfect opening in the enemy's anti-air targeting grid.
The automated turrets continued to focus their hard-light lasers on the Native Gods holding the lower elevations, leaving the upper thermals temporarily unguarded.
'The turrets cannot track a solitary target riding the wind currents,' Iron-Scale concluded.
Channeling his emerald wind core, he summoned a concentrated gale beneath his boots. The sudden updraft launched him high above the battlefield. He rode the swirling green currents through the dusty sky, weaving effortlessly between stray laser blasts.
Approaching the towering concrete face of the dam, he spotted a colossal exhaust vent rotating near the crest of the structure. Steel fan blades spun rapidly to expel hot steam from the internal generators.
