A guard stood in front of a rune inscribed door yawning.
Rank 5 Foundation Establishment. Horned red mask. Arms crossed. Leaning against the doorframe like he was waiting for a transit shuttle instead of standing watch over an underground trafficking hub. His signature pulsed lazy and steady in Kael's purple vision.
Kael glanced at Sage.
She didn't need instructions.
She knew what the look meant.
Kael drew one short blade from the sheath across his lower back. His tier 3 shadow-steel. Twelve inches of killing edge, dark as ink, designed for one purpose.
Lightning crackled along the blade.
Blue-white arcs danced from hilt to tip, casting sharp shadows across his fingers. The air around the weapon hummed with barely contained voltage. His lightning manipulation wrapped around the metal like a lover's embrace—coating, saturating, turning an already lethal weapon into something even deadlier and much more lethal.
