The Veil of Ranks: VOR, was no longer some abstract word floating in their heads; Naya made it real with every syllable.
"Whenever a Waithraite, especially the dreaded Soulnexers, who carry out most of the assaults, comes too close to the VOR," she explained, her voice slicing through the whispers in the hall,
"it triggers an alert. That alert feeds us precise information about the intruder; their rank, their number, their distance. Then we dispatch the right team of Azrens with the right rank to intercept before they even breathe on our forcefield."
Her eyes swept the rows of recruits, each gaze pinning them like lantern light catching moths. No one blinked. Everyone hung on her words.
"I chose to reveal this myself," she said, voice cutting through the air like a clean blade.
