Grand Marshal Meilyn Potan stood frozen in the command center of Fort Meridian, her golden eyes locked on the array of digital displays and holographic projections that showed real-time satellite feeds from the crater. The woman who had coordinated defensive operations against continental threats using the most advanced magical technology available now found herself confronting something that rendered all her experience meaningless.
The corruption was spreading.
What had begun as localized distortion around the distant crater was now expanding outward in a radius of devastation that defied every defensive protocol in their databases. The satellite feeds showed the landscape itself beginning to warp and twist as waves of corrupted mana—an unholy amalgamation of miasma and pure destructive force—rolled across the terrain like a tsunami of conceptual ruin.
