Chapter 47
Returning to the wyvern squad, Dax was welcomed by a massive dark-steel fortress that towered into the night sky like a blade forged from the void itself. The walls rose impossibly high—smooth, seamless obsidian-black metal veined with faint silver circuitry that pulsed like slow heartbeats. Each corner bristled with a burly twin-barreled blaster turret—ship sweepers, their long muzzles tracking the sky with mechanical patience, ready to shred anything foolish enough to approach from above.
Dax stepped forward without pause. Behind him marched twenty goblins—smaller than 01, yet already taller and more muscular than the feral packs he had slaughtered earlier. Their dark-green skin gleamed under the moonlight; eyes glinted with a mix of fear and feral curiosity. At the rear walked 01—towering, serpentine-eyed, the jagged cutlass slung across its back like a promise of violence.
On reaching the gate, Dax came to a halt. He placed one palm flat against the cold metal.
