"That's not a bug, Jax. That's a structural collapse," Rian muttered, staring at the gaping chasm where the mess hall used to stand. The edges of the crater didn't look like they had been blown up by explosives; they were smooth, pixelated drop-offs, flickering with a faint, violet luminescence that refused to die out. "Call it whatever helps you sleep at night, kid," Kael growled, kicking aside a chunk of smoldering concrete that hummed like a high-voltage power line. "Half the perimeter wall is gone, three storage tents evaporated into thin air, and the terrain looks like someone took a cheese grater to reality. You want to tell me how a simple reality patch turns a logistics camp into a moonscape?" "I didn't mean to delete the kitchen," Rian said defensively, his hands instinctively sliding deep into his jacket pockets. He pressed his fingers against his forearms, feeling the erratic, heat-generating pulse beneath his skin. The violet res

 "Stop looking at the dirt, Rian. Look at the horizon. Or better yet, look at the sky," Jax barked, slamming his palm against the battered casing of the military-surband radio box until a burst of static cut through the whine of feedback. "What am I supposed to be looking at? More smoking craters?" Rian asked, his voice tight as he hastily pulled his jacket sleeves down over his wrists. The violet residue beneath his skin felt like liquid fire, hot enough to sear through fabric if he didn't keep his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "You're looking at a brand-new weather pattern," Kael said, stepping up beside Jax with a heavy tactical rifle slung across his chest. The old soldier pointed a scarred thumb toward the jagged, unnatural skyline of the sector's outer industrial rings. "Look closer, kid. Those aren't clouds rolling in from the north. That's a synchronized drone sweep. They're setting up a perimeter grid."