The Nova Sanctum's brig was carved from obsidian steel, each wall layered with suppression fields that hummed like distant thunder. The chamber was cold, the kind of cold that wasn't from air but from intent—built for things that weren't supposed to leave once locked inside.
Lucian stood at the doorway, cloak brushing the floor as the cell's restraints pulsed faint red. Inside, the XX guardian stirred.
The monster was huge even when slumped against the wall. His body was plated in bone-like armor that jutted along his shoulders and arms, almost like a natural exoskeleton. Thick hide stretched over corded muscle, blackened in places from the bombardment. His horns curved upward like jagged spears, cracked but still sharp, and beneath his chest, faint orange veins glowed faintly, pulsing with his blood. His face was a blend of beast and man—elongated jaw, fangs thick as knives, eyes burning an eerie pale yellow even as they flickered in and out of focus.
