The air above the Weeping Stone Crossing grew unnaturally still. The desert sun was high, yet the stillness was not caused by heat, but by the anticipation of overwhelming, inorganic power.
Elara, concealed behind the rough-hewn granite boulders, felt the change first. It wasn't an Aetheric wave; it was a physical sensation—a relentless, increasing ambient heat, as if a localized furnace were being dragged across the horizon.
Kaelen, sitting rigid on the slate slab, remained motionless, utterly absorbed in coiling the Phase Shunt Rune. He was drawing every last drop of the recharged Blue Rank Aether into a single point in his core, the ultimate magical compression that, if released prematurely, would tear his body apart. His defense, the passive Echo Guard, was his only protection against immediate heat exposure.
"It's here," Elara whispered into the silence, though Kaelen gave no sign he heard her.
A massive, anti-magic transport ship, cloaked in physical dampening shields, materialized over the far cliffs. It hovered for only a moment, the ground beneath it visibly shimmering from the concentrated thermal energy it contained. Then, with a hydraulic hiss, it dropped its cargo.
The Executor hit the dry riverbed with a bone-jarring impact. It was a terrifying sight: twelve feet tall, armored in dark, seamless plating, with heavy, articulated limbs and a smooth, featureless head that housed a single, glowing red optic. It moved with the cold, silent efficiency of a killing machine. It was completely non-Aetheric, a terrifying contradiction to the magical world it was built to destroy.
The machine's thermal core was its engine. It radiated heat like a star, visibly warping the air around it. The Ironwood fragments embedded in the riverbed began to smoke.
The Executor's red optic immediately locked onto Kaelen, motionless on the slate platform. It had identified the target, the source of the recent, unauthorized Blue Rank magical event.
The machine processed the data: Target is a stationary, high-value arcanist. Minimal defensive output detected. Commencing execution sequence.
The Executor didn't walk; it initiated a full thermal charge. Its limbs compressed, and the ground beneath its feet cracked as it coiled for a burst of speed. The sound it made was a low, mechanical whine, building toward a catastrophic pitch.
Elara's heart pounded against her ribs. She felt the sudden, primal urge to flee, but her mind instantly shut down the panic. 1.7 seconds. Her timing was the only thing between life and death.
Kaelen remained still, his focus absolute. He was relying entirely on Elara's voice to be the physical trigger for a magical event that required near-perfect temporal precision.
The Executor launched forward.