The smoking wound across Zeven's broad chest sizzled aggressively as the freezing rain continued to pour down into the center of the ancient, desolate settlement. The old, crumbling stone well in the middle of the courtyard stood surrounded by thousands of brittle, dry brown leaves that blanketed the wet ground, rustling loudly whenever the wind shifted. The air was incredibly dense and tight, filled with the foul, white smoke rising from Zeven's seared flesh and the continuous, high-pitched mechanical whine of Rey's advanced cybernetic combat systems. Zeven suppressed a painful groan, his large boots grinding into the decaying leaves as he stabilized his stance, his crimson eyes locking instantly onto the small, flickering red light pulsating beneath the titanium armor plates on the back
