The instant Sir Gideon's eyes flickered, Ethan felt the shift.
It was subtle, a tightening at the corners, a flash of calculation where hesitation had been. Ethan opened his mouth to warn Markham, but the old man's expression had already hardened into something cold and resolute.
"Zenith Palm!"
The roar split the air before Ethan could react.
Sir Gideon's arm rose sharply and then came crashing down. A deafening boom followed, the sky above them twisting as if an invisible giant had reached down to knead the clouds. From that distortion, a massive phantom hand emerged, descending with terrifying inevitability.
Inside every mech, alarms shrieked at once.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
Markham had stepped out of his armor, with fury still blazing across his face. "You old, despicable…"
He did not finish.
