The valley was no longer a place of soil and sky. It had become a crucible of conflicting realities. As the dreadnought loomed above, its hull radiating a cold, violet light that seemed to eat the very color from the air, Malphas stood his ground. The memory-blade in his hand hummed with the collective scream of a thousand years of suppressed human history.
"They think they are the orchestrators of silence," Malphas shouted, his voice a thunderous command that rippled through the obsidian pillars. "But they have forgotten that silence is merely the pause before the music begins."
He didn't wait for the fleet to finalize their targeting sequence. He slammed his blade into the ground, and the obsidian pillars, grounded by the Captain’s legion, erupted. They didn't fire beams of energy. The
