The wall of dust didn't arrive politely; it exploded.
One second, the battlefield was filled with the thunderous clash of metal and the roar of burning patriotism. The next, a gray tsunami dozens of meters high surged from the southern horizon, swallowing everything in a silent fury. The soldiers standing in the front lines didn't even have time to draw a final breath. They simply vanished, sucked into a dust cloud moving far too fast for human logic to process.
Orchid had already leaped back several steps before the tongues of dust could lick his position. He narrowed his eyes, enduring the sting of coarse grit pelting his face. Krit. He tightened his grip on his red sword—the energy blade pulsed low, as if warning its master of something alien.
