"You're not facing this alone."
Damian's voice cut through the chaos as he staggered into the chamber. His enhanced sword crackled with residual magic despite his mangled arm hanging useless at his side. Blood soaked through his Iron-fang armor where crystalline golem claws had found their mark.
Behind him came survivors from multiple guilds united by desperate circumstances. ARES remnants marched beside Iron-fang veterans. Sanctuary healers supported wounded Association hunters. Guild politics meant nothing when dimensional entities threatened everything they'd sworn to protect.
"Defensive perimeter around the healers," Damian commanded while raising his sword one-handed. "Nothing gets through."
Sergeant Morrison limped forward with his cracked shield. "Sir, we've got maybe thirty seconds before that thing breaks through the ceiling."
