The grand lobby of the Opera House had become a slaughterhouse.
Through the splintered remains of the main doors, the Exterminators poured in like a silver flood. These were the Shock-Troopers, the heavy infantry of the Church, armed not with the elegant halberds of the Purifiers but with brutal, piston-driven riot shields and crackling shock-mauls.
They moved with the synchronized, rhythmic thud of a pile driver, pushing the frantic Ash-Eaters back step by b****y step.
Zane watched from the high vantage point of the stage, gripping the velvet curtain to keep himself upright.
His body felt hollowed out, a scrap of skin stretched over a void where his power used to be.
The Soul Rejection had left his veins feeling like they were filled with broken glass, and the Burnout from the bro
