The emerald searchlights of the Council gunships sliced through the valley’s steam like jagged blades. Above the obsidian floor, the heavy thrum of the engines created a rhythmic vibration that rattled the very bones of the mountain. For Alpha Mikhail, watching from a remote feed in the Northern Tundra, this was the moment of tactical ignition. He didn't want a surrender; he wanted a catastrophe that would force the world to fear the ancient bloodlines once more.
"Target confirmed," a mechanical voice crackled over the gunships' intercoms. "Deploying the Frost-Core stabilizers. Fire at will."
The lead gunship unleashed a volley of specialized rounds. These weren't standard lead or silver; they were canisters of liquid nitrogen enriched with a synthetic dampening agent designed to catalyz
