Anthony was the first to break the inertia of the stupor. There were no speeches, no plans drawn in the sand; only the chromatic explosion of his will. He didn't even slow down as he reached the front line, where Bīng Xuě's cold still froze the breath of those nearby. His boots grazed the icy floor as he slid both hands through the air with an almost choreographic fluidity, leaving trails of luminous paint in his wake that seemed to float in the void, defying the gravity of the corridor.
Red.
Green.
