The Prime Forge didn't die quietly.
Even with its lower half completely sheared off by the Red-Queen’s Phase-Blade, the severed upper chassis groaned and popped as the internal cooling systems violently depressurized. Thick, acrid black smoke poured from the ruined exhaust vents, blotting out the setting sun and casting long, skeletal shadows across the asphalt of Coldwater’s outer district.
Dax stood at the edge of the wreckage, his SMG resting casually on his shoulder. He watched the last of the retreating Paladins disappear into the glowing blue treeline of the mutated jungle. They were running back to Neo-Angeles with a message that would shake the Founders to their cryo-frozen cores.
"Let them run," Dax murmured, his amber eyes tracking their flight. "They need to tell the old men
