The crimson cloud rose from the center of the Citadel and moved toward them across the illuminated sky.
Damian watched it come. He registered its Mana signature, the Imperators on it, the Demons flanking it, the figure of the Murderous Saint standing at its edge with boisterous laughter already building in his chest. He registered all of it in the first half-second of the cloud's approach, cataloged it, filed it against what he already knew, and then his eyes found what was at the front of the cloud and the cataloging stopped.
The armor he recognized immediately.
