The world turned in a blink.
One moment Lucien's group stood inside the summit of the Obsidian Tower. The next, they were in that battlefield.
The seal-silence was so absolute that even sound felt like trespass.
Gargoyles were caught mid-carve. Wings were caught half-spread. Claws hung in the air with lines of runes still trailing from their tips like unfinished handwriting.
Their eyes moved first. Then their bodies flinched a heartbeat later as if the seal allowed reflex but denied motion.
Lucien did not give them time to understand.
Through the Formation Disc: Pack Dominion, intent threaded between them like a living circuit.
No words are needed.
Every breath they took was counted in the same rhythm. Every pulse of power rose on the same beat.
Mana, at high levels, behaved like a field. Like a wave.
Most groups died because their waves interfered.
