The first wave of Dregs burst forward—wolf-like hounds with too many teeth crammed into twisted jaws, their snarls splitting the air. Rubber-like skin stretched tight over lean, muscular frames, their eyes glowing with mindless hunger as they bounded across the rubble, claws scraping through the broken ground.
"Hey, Amara!" Ezra yelled over the chaos.
"What did you mean by Order?"
She barely spared him a glance, her eyes fixed on the battlefield ahead.
"Category III gates and above release ranked monsters," she called over the chaos. "We call them Orders—seven in total. Crawlers at the bottom, then Ferals, Brutes, Wraiths, Stalkers, Hives, and at the top… Colossus. Each one stronger, smarter, deadlier than the last."
A snarl tore through the air as something massive moved in the distance.
"Some even get blessed," she added.
"Blessed?" Ezra shouted back, struggling to hear over the gunfire and screeches. "What do you mean, blessed?"
"Rare ones awaken Resonance manipulation," she said flatly, voice cold and focused. "Aether control. Strategy. Real intelligence. They evolve with Strains—mutation paths that shape their bodies and abilities."
Her gaze hardened as the next wave of monsters spilled through the Rift.
"And how many Rift categories are there?" Ezra pressed.
"Six," she replied, her eyes narrowing as the next wave of monsters poured through the Rift. "Now stop distracting me. I want to watch."
Just then, Dane opened his eyes.
In an instant, the snarling hounds were crushed flat against the earth, yelping and snapping as an unseen force pinned them down. The ground groaned beneath the sudden, suffocating pressure—a gravity field so intense the creatures' limbs buckled and bones cracked under the weight.
Rook stepped past him without a word, calm as ever. He knelt, pressing his palms to the shattered ground.
A moment of silence.
Then—boom.
A seismic shockwave ripped through the battlefield, the earth splitting beneath the force of it. Rubble launched into the air as the pinned monsters were obliterated where they lay, their skulls caving under the concussive blast. The air reeked of dust, blood, and burnt Aether.
Ezra could only stare.
These weren't normal soldiers.
This was what it meant to be Awakened.
More monsters spilled from the Rift—gaunt, elongated bodies with sinewy limbs stretched unnaturally long. Translucent, bat-like wings unfurled from their backs, veins pulsing beneath thin, leathery membranes.
Their faces were ghastly. Sunken, hollow eyes gleamed with a predatory glare, and when their jaws split open, they revealed rows of jagged, uneven teeth. Saliva dripped from their maws as they grinned—wide and mocking, as if amused by the terror they caused.
One after another, more emerged.
Amara's jaw slackened.
"…Get Awakened Ari here, now!" she snapped, her voice sharp, cutting through the growing panic.
A woman stumbled forward, nearly tripping as her hands fumbled through her gear. But just as the creatures raised their heads, the air shifted.
Everything went silent.
The thralls opened their mouths wide, releasing a piercing shriek that shattered glass and windows all around them. Ezra flinched, but… heard nothing.
Confused, he looked toward the woman—Ari—and noticed the faint glow surrounding her hands. A soft, shimmering light spread outwards, forming delicate, translucent barriers over everyone's ears.
Ezra turned, scanning the others. Each of them had the same glowing veil around their heads, dulling the scream to nothing but silence.
Without that protection… he realized the shriek would have ruptured their eardrums.