The battlefield did not slow.
If anything, it grew sharper.
The seal Vaelcar had forced into existence was thinning at the edges and the execution array above the gargoyles continued to tremble like a sentence eager to be finished.
The world itself seemed to lean toward that final stroke.
Lucien did not let it.
The Formation Disc: Pack Dominion flared.
Intent tightened across the seven of them like a drawn string. Every strike arrived where it would matter most, and every retreat was measured so another ally could step into the space it created.
The gargoyles answered with craft.
The Starsteel King learned first.
Resurrection had been denied in its radius, and the Starsteel Gargoyle felt the missing "return" like a tooth pulled out of the battlefield.
Still, it did not panic. It adapted.
Its Law of Reforging did not need death to feed it.
It needed structure.
