The fall of the first construct didn't so much echo as resonate. The moment the runic light inside its chest flickered out and the obsidian-metal body collapsed into inert fragments, the entire throne chamber vibrated in reply, like the castle itself had acknowledged the kill.
Twenty-seven sets of white-silver eyes rotated toward the trio all at once. No emotion or malice, only sharpening interest, as if recalibrating their threat assessment after the defeat of one of their comrades.
Albedo pivoted back, sliding smoothly into his stance, Havoc and Ruin glinting with shifting mode-lights.
"Positions," he ordered, voice low but carrying. "Elara, midline coverage. Lilian, flanking pressure. Don't let them surround us."
Lilian wiped the blood from the corner of her lip, a wild grin curling despite the pain throbbing in her ribs. "Finally, something worthy of my excitement."
Elara planted her staff, breath tight but steady. "Already on it."
