"V15 vehicle ready! All Veil Torrents enhanced and activated!" shouted one of the eidric mages, his voice echoing through the camp as the final surge of energy pulsed from his palms into the lantern mounted on top of the last armored transport.
*Whirrr!
The lantern flared a brilliant blue before dimming to a steady glow, its humming resonance harmonizing with the others already lined up across the field.
The air buzzed with mechanical roars as one by one, engines came alive.
Smoke and heat rippled from exhaust vents, and the ground trembled under the synchronized rhythm of armored vehicles moving into formation.
Each massive carrier bore a Veil Lantern atop its hull—its frame reinforced with eidric runes while the crystal within thrummed with contained power.
The very air shimmered faintly around them, forming the first threads of the barrier that would protect the expedition once they entered the mist.
"All soldiers to the sides!" barked a commanding voice from the far end of the line.
The officer, clad in dark blue armor traced with glowing runes, strode between the rows as dozens of armed men and women obeyed his command.
Their boots pounded against the dirt, dust rising as they took their positions in perfect formation—two long lines running parallel to the convoy, stretching from the frontmost command vehicle all the way to the rear.
The metallic sound of equipment tightening filled the air—buckles snapping, magazines being loaded, and safety latches being checked.
Some soldiers whispered quick prayers, while others kissed amulets or tapped the sigils etched into their rifles.
It wasn't fear that lingered in the air, but a heavy, collective anticipation—each one of them fully aware that the moment they stepped into the Umbral Veil, their lives would be hanging by a thread.
Meanwhile, the eidric scholars and sorcerers began to board the transports, their robes fluttering from the engines' heat as they climbed the sides of the vehicles.
Each carried intricate tomes and compact containment rods, their faces reflecting the lanterns' blue glow.
Their task was the most dangerous—to monitor the Veil Torrents up close and ensure the lantern barriers held once the mists began pressing inward.
"DEATH TO OUR ENEMIES! DEATH TO WHOEVER STANDS IN OUR WAY!"
Gunn's booming voice shattered the calm.
He raised both of his massive swords high, their blades catching the first rays of morning light, reflecting crimson flashes that matched the armor plating across his insectoid frame.
His Vakaryann soldiers answered in unison—an ear-splitting roar that shook the very air.
"RAH! RAH! RAH!" they chanted, slamming their swords together in a deafening rhythm, the metallic clangs rippling through the camp like thunder.
Their war cry was primal and terrifying, a declaration that sent chills even through the hardened mercenaries standing nearby.
Rox stood by the ramp of her ship, watching the chaos unfold before her eyes.
The engines' rumble mixed with the chanting, forming a strange kind of music—
a rhythm of war.
She adjusted the strap of her rifle, loading a fresh magazine before glancing at Gelhyne, who stood several paces ahead, her cloak swaying with the wind.
Gelhyne didn't move.
Her eyes were fixed forward on the black wall of mist that towered ahead like a living shadow.
Her expression was calm—cold even—but her presence alone silenced those nearest to her.
Around her, the last adjustments were being made; vehicle turrets swiveled into position, shields were tested, and lanterns blazed brighter as they synchronized.
"Commander," said one of her aides, running up beside her.
"All units are reporting ready. The Veil Torrents are stable, the barriers are holding, and all vehicles are armed for the crossing."
Gelhyne nodded faintly, her gaze never leaving the mist.
"Good. Maintain the formation. Once we begin, there's no turning back."
A brief silence followed—just the sound of the wind howling through the open plains and the distant hum of engines.
Even the Vakaryanns quieted, waiting for the moment their commander would give the signal.
The expedition was ready. The weapons were loaded. The Veil Torrents burned like stars.
All that remained now… was Gelhyne's order.
Rox stepped down from the ramp of her ship as the metallic hiss of hydraulics faded behind her.
The morning air was thick with the hum of engines, the chanting of soldiers, and the low, steady pulse of the Veil Lanterns.
Her boots pressed against the dirt with weight and confidence, each step resonating with the faint clatter of her gear.
She was fully armed—every piece of equipment gleaming faintly under the pale light of dawn.
Her right arm was covered by a sleek synthetic gauntlet, its core thrumming with faint blue energy as several small ports glowed across its surface.
The weapon was capable of launching cluster bombs and concentrated laser bursts—tools that had once carved through thick armours like paper.
On her belt hung two blasters, their matte black finish unmarred despite years of combat, while across her back rested a compact railgun, humming low with stored power.
She wasn't just armed, she was a walking fortress—designed for survival and destruction alike.
"Mhm," Gelhyne hummed as Rox approached, her sharp eyes scanning the woman from head to toe.
Her tone was calm, but her gaze was precise, analyzing every part of Rox's battle-ready form like a commander assessing her best weapon.
"So you've come prepared," she said finally, stepping closer until she stood directly before Rox.
"Good," Gelhyne continued, her voice clear and direct as she crossed her arms.
"From this moment forward, you are to remain by my side. Your task is simple—protect me at all costs and assist me with whatever orders I give. You will act only when I command it, and you will not hesitate when I do."
Rox raised an eyebrow behind her helmet, her voice casual yet edged with confidence.
"You're the boss," she said, her tone carrying a hint of sarcasm as she gave a small shrug.
The weight of her railgun shifted slightly with the movement, the metallic plates of her armor clinking in response.
Gelhyne didn't smile, but there was a faint curve to her lips that almost resembled approval.
"Good. I expect you to prove that statement true once we enter the mist," she replied before turning her gaze forward, the wind lifting the edges of her cloak as she began walking toward the convoy's lead vehicle.
Rox followed closely behind, her fingers brushing against the side of her gauntlet as its internal systems flickered to life, tiny blue sparks crawling along its surface. She adjusted the blasters at her sides and tightened the strap of her railgun before speaking again.
"Just to be clear," Rox said, her tone half-joking, half-serious, "if things go south, I'm free to blow up whatever's trying to go at us, right?"
Gelhyne glanced back slightly, her expression unreadable.
"Do whatever you must," she replied.
"Just make sure I'm still breathing when it's over."
Rox chuckled softly under her breath as her visor glowed faintly.
"Fair enough."
The two women continued toward the front of the formation—one wrapped in command, the other wrapped in firepower—both heading toward the unknown veil that awaited them beyond the mist.