Darkness.
It bloomed from Kael's crossed wrists like ink dropped into water—spreading outward in every direction, swallowing moonlight, swallowing the warehouse, swallowing the world. A sphere of absolute black that expanded in a silent rush, consuming the ground beneath their feet and the sky above their heads until there was nothing.
Nothing except darkness.
Grellik's mana texture perception flared wildly. His signature probed every direction—up, down, left, right—bouncing off walls that weren't there, hitting barriers that shouldn't exist.
"What did you do?" Grellik's voice cut through the dark.
Kael lowered his hands. The bandages pulsed once.
Then light returned.
Not natural light. Not moonlight. A dim, diffuse glow that seemed to emanate from the darkness itself—just enough to see, just enough to make out shapes. The operatives. The warehouse walls. The ground beneath them.
