PREVIEW
... ed of scorched copper and cooling weapon oil.
Five hundred Iron-Husked Myrmidons stood in perfect, terrifying formation across the cracked concrete floor. No breathing. No shifting weight. No nervous twitches. Just rigid rows of matte-black iron waiting in the dark for a command that would send them to slaughter.
In the center of this mechanical graveyard, Jian was having a meltdown.
Squeak. Squeak. SNAP.
Jian broke his third piece of chalk against a rusted whiteb ...
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