A cacophony of thunder echoed through the facility.
The battle against the Grade 3 Abyssal was growing more strenuous by the second.
But only half of their focus remained on the relentless storm of bodiless bones before them. The rest was fixed on the facility itself—groaning, shaking, as if it were alive, as if the very walls were in agony. The floor above them trembled under the weight of something monstrous. Again and again, the deafening roar of impact sent dust and debris trickling down from the cracks above.
Whatever battle was raging overhead had everyone on edge.
It had to be harrowing—something beyond imagination—for it to shake the entire structure. A creeping fear gnawed at them all. If the containment facility collapsed, they would be buried alive beneath tons of rubble.
Whatever Azriel was facing must have been something they hadn't accounted for—something just as dreadful as the storm of bones before them. Maybe even worse.
And yet, the battle raged on.
