The arrival of Commander Kael was like a sudden, brutal drop in temperature.
The hot chaos of the battlefield seemed to recede, replaced by a single, cold point of absolute, overwhelming pressure.
Sterling, the arrogant Vanguard prince, took an involuntary step back, his own considerable power feeling like a flickering candle in the face of a supernova.
"Commander," he said, his voice tight, the condescending purr completely gone. "This is a Guild--sanctioned operation. You have no jurisdiction here."
Kael didn't even look at him.
His eyes, which glowed with a faint, controlled energy that was a dozen times more potent than Sterling's, were fixed on Michael.
It was a look of pure, clinical assessment. A scientist observing a particularly interesting, and slightly disgusting, insect.
"Jurisdiction," Kael mused, the word a soft, dangerous sound. "Is a concept for those who still believe in rules."
"I, however, believe in results."
