A sudden chill ran along Myles's spine without warning, sharp and unnatural, cutting through the rhythm he had maintained since the battle began.
His blades continued to move as they had before, cutting down enemies in clean and efficient motions, and from the surface everything still looked as if it followed the same flow they had established earlier.
But that feeling refused to disappear and instead settled deeper into his chest as a heavy and suffocating feeling that he couldn't ignore.
He swallowed slowly as his instincts pressed against his mind. Forcing him to look beyond the immediate fight as his gaze swept across the battlefield with growing anxiety.
The sky remained red above them while the massive sigils and the enclosing dome still held their form without disruption.
But the movement below told a completely different story as the flow of battle shifted. It no longer aligned with their earlier momentum.
