The word hung in the air, though no echo followed it.
"Erase."
And reality obeyed.
The shock was immediate. Both sides faltered, but not in the same way.
The Vestige army recoiled as though a limb had been severed. Their structure, so rigid, so dependent on command chains, wavered. Ships above flickered as their formations broke mid-order, yet they did not all fall. Many remained. Too many. The sky was still dark with them.
Arkenhall's defenders were no less shaken. To witness slaughter was one thing. To witness erasure was another. Soldiers had seen comrades slain by sword and spell, by parasite and explosion. But to see entire ranks disappear, leaving no trace. Not body, not sound, not even the lingering taste of mana—unmoored the heart. It was no longer a battle. It was a rewrite.
★★★
Ervin stood in the wreckage, jaw locked, hands clenched behind his back. Logic ran ruthless through his mind.
["Extent of power: limited? Total?
Application: word-bound? Conditional?
