The air grew thick with the smell of scorched metal and ozone as they neared the crash site. The Arbiter's transport wasn't just wrecked; it was a gutted, silver beast half-buried in the earth, its sleek lines torn open like a carcass. But from within its broken ribs, a faint, persistent pulse of light thrummed—the heartbeat of the dying signal.
As per the plan, the coalition forces fanned out. Magnus and his Ironblood took up aggressive positions facing the most likely avenues of approach, their weapons scanning the ruined landscape. Thorne's Tech-Savants set up sensor arrays and jamming equipment a safe distance away, their faces lit by data streams. Seth's Free Folk vanished into the rubble, becoming invisible sentinels.
