Page 305 of Scarlet Wars
Metal burst out the front of him in a wet, violent bloom, blood splattering across the floor in a fine, red mist.
Maurice gasped, almost more surprise than pain.
And for one second, time didn’t just slow.
It stopped. Like the world hit play a second too late.
The horrid sound came after: metal carving through flesh, wet and vicious. Maurice’s body jerked forward, the air catching in his throat in a broken, glitching choke.
I froze.
Everyone did.
The sword jutting through his chest gleamed crimson—fresh, bright—still wedged clean between his ribs. Maurice swayed, eyes wide, mouth opening like he still meant to finish the sentence.
Like he didn’t understand he was already dead.
Then his knees buckled.
And he collapsed.
No scream. No cry.
Just dead weight hitting the floor.
And then, the worldshattered.
There was no warning, no buildup, only an instant release.
I felt it.All of usfelt it.
The air shuddered with a low, violent thrum, the kind that crawled into your bones before your brain could catch up. It hit like a pressure wave tearing through the room, and then everythingchanged.
The bubble was gone.
Not cracked. Not fraying.
Gone.
My haze surged up so fast it nearly knocked me off balance, screaming through my veins like it had been starving. I could feel every ounce of it, untethered and ready to burn through anything in its path. And for the first time since we were dragged into this place, I didn’t have to hold back.
But neither didthey.
The United Chiefs didn’t hesitate. They didn’t flinch at the shift. They moved the second the bubble dropped—fluid, precise, completely unfazed—like they’d been waiting for this exact moment to strike. No confusion. No adjustment period.
They came at us like wolves finally let off the leash.
Six of them poured in through the side corridor, their cuffs long gone, expressions hungry. I didn’t know how they’d broken out, but clearly, someone had underestimated just how ready they were.
My haze was still burning hot in my veins, but I kept it banked, controlled. The only thing worse than panic was wasted energy. My fingers flexed, already calculating distances, who’d be the first to attack, and who I’d have to take out to even the field.
“Where the fuck did they—” James started.
The first haze shot split the air like lightning.
A blinding flash ripped through the space, illuminating jagged stone and fractured pillars in stark, violent bursts. James ducked with a curse, the blast tearing past him close enough to scorch the wall.
I turned—pure instinct—to track the source, locking onto the shadowed edge where it had come from, senses narrowing,honing.
