"Director Voss, what's the status on the Iron-fang units?"
Chairman Ethella's voice cut through the chaos as emergency reports flooded the Association's crisis center. Static crackled from damaged communication interface while tactical displays showed red markers spreading across the city like an infection.
The rooftop of the Association headquarters offered Ethella a commanding view of his burning domain. Midnight robes billowed around his tall frame as storm clouds gathered overhead, responding to power he hadn't unleashed in decades. Lightning danced between his fingers while he identified priority targets through the smoke and chaos below.
Three decades of political leadership had dulled the edge of his combat instincts. But watching trolls crush fleeing civilians awakened something primal in his S-rank soul. The storm magic that made him Chairman stirred like a sleeping dragon recognizing prey.
