6:31 a.m.
A pale band of dawn brushed the eastern horizon, but the fires inside the Sighing Fortress burned brighter. The battle cries gradually thinned, replaced by waves of surrender.
The fiercest stage of the war was over. All that remained was the cleanup.
In the Main Fortress, dozens of corpses lay along the red-carpeted corridor leading to the heart of power. They were Marquis Garcia's last loyalists-personal guards clad in fine plate armor. But before the battleaxes of the knights in Living Graft Armor and the swarm's acid, these so-called elites were a fragile joke.
Thud, thud, thud.
Veylin walked steadily over the sticky carpet. Diana and Sarah followed him.
"The hall is just ahead." Blood still dripped from the Dawn Sword in Diana's hand. Her breathing was slightly ragged, and the lingering heat of battle burned in her lake-blue eyes. "According to our intelligence, it leads straight to the underground teleportation array."
Veylin said nothing and continued down.
The hall's two carved wooden doors were shut tight.
Boom!
Before they could approach, the doors burst apart.
Two stone golems, each three meters tall, thrust their heads out. Their granite bodies smashed spiderweb cracks into the marble floor. Behind them, two court mages in gray robes raised their staffs and chanted arcane incantations.
Fifth-rank mages, plus two Alchemical Golems.
This was Garcia's final line of defense.
"For the Marquis!" one mage roared as a thick bolt of lightning gradually gathered at the tip of his staff.
Diana's gaze sharpened. She was about to charge with her sword when a slender hand blocked her path.
"We're short on time," Veylin said evenly.
He raised his right hand and spread his fingers. Four seeds coated in pale green gel flew toward the imposing stone golems, tossed as casually as scraps of