The earth suddenly trembled, like a deep and visceral thrumming that originated from the very marrow of the world. At first, the adventurers of the Liberation Cult thought it was another Titan herd, perhaps a migration of Duke-ranks drawn by the scent of their growing numbers.
Many instinctively reached for the hilts of their weapons, mana flaring in jagged bursts as formations tightened into defensive shells.
Then the ground parted. It did not tear violently or shatter into chaotic chasms. Instead, it opened with a perfect, chilling symmetry. Ancient gates of polished basalt and obsidian rose from beneath the battlefield, their surfaces etched with runes that ignited one after another like stars being born in the dark.
