The Vault of Marrow erupted into a violent storm of kinetic force and raw elemental mana the second Kyle's boots slammed into the polished bone floor.
The four blood-grafted elites didn't move like standard lumbering constructs. Despite their towering nine-foot frames, their movements were terrifyingly fluid—their spatial-suppression arrays humming with a heavy, pitch-black resonance that locked down the local fabric of reality, preventing short-range spatial leaps or instantaneous warps.
"Intruders bleed for the Spire!" the elite commander roared, bringing its six-foot bone cleavers down in a brutal, dual-hand strike that cut through the air with a deafening sonic boom.
