The sky above the ruined district lit up in white fire. Not the red flares of the scavenger militias, with their crude weapons and desperate hunger, but clean, surgical streaks of light that burst into blossoms of silver-white. They hung in the air like artificial stars, casting stark shadows across the collapsed buildings and broken highways.
Min-joon froze mid-step. His breath came out ragged, his lungs pulling in the dust-choked air as if it had turned to ice. "That's not them," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Keller's face hardened as the light reflected off the edges of his jaw. "No," he growled. "That's surface military."
The sound followed soon after—low, methodical rumbles that weren't scavenger trucks but armored transports rolling across crushed concrete. Floodlights swept across the ruins, erasing shadows, exposing everything. A mechanical whine cut through the silence as drones buzzed overhead, their red sensors scanning the streets like predators sniffing the air.
