The battlefield no longer sounded like chaos. It had resolved into patterns—weapon fire striking in intervals, footsteps landing with mechanical certainty, wind carrying the residue of heat and iron across the plains.
The Calypso foot soldiers advanced without hesitation. Their movement flattened the terrain beneath them, each step compressing snow and ice into a uniform surface suited for continued advance.
Observers noted the absence of shouted commands. Coordination appeared intrinsic, synchronized by systems no one on the field could hear, but everyone could feel.
By the time the noise faded into distance, the land itself seemed altered—tuned to violence, waiting for the next movement to begin.
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