Gwen slowly lowered her pistols. Her jaw actually dropped.
"Sebastian," Gwen breathed, walking forward and kicking a pile of Saint-level ash with her boot. "Where… where is the fleet?"
"I asked them to leave," Sebastian deadpanned, casually sliding the datapad into his inventory. "They put up a bit of a fuss, so I had to escalate things. But they're gone now."
Corbin fell to his knees in the ash. He scooped up a handful of the gray powder, staring at it in absolute, unadulterated awe.
"This is… this is durasteel rust. And calcium dust. You… you decayed a fleet! You decayed an entire fleet of Dreadnoughts! That's mathematically impossible!"
"I'm a very good accountant," Sebastian noted dryly.
Gwen holstered her weapons and walked right up to him. She looked at his calm, entirely unbothered expression. She looked at the faint silver runes glowing on his perfectly healed arms.
