Minutes passed, but the Feran vessel didn't move. It hung there in the void, silent and massive, like a predator crouched in the dark, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Then, without warning, light burst from its side hatches, and figures began pouring out, first a few, then dozens, and then hundreds. Within moments, the space around the ship swarmed with nearly three hundred Ferans, all radiating the oppressive pressure of Grandmasters.
My chest tightened as I watched the scene. I hadn't expected them to bring such an overwhelming force. A single Grandmaster could level a city, three hundred was an army of nightmares. And above them all was Vaelix himself, the Transcendent beast in crimson robes.
The Ferans began spreading out in all directions, surrounding the half-formed mirror. Even without probing their intent, I could sense what they were planning.
"Old man," I muttered, eyes narrowing, "they're doing what I think they're doing, aren't they?"
