Mikhailis cleared his throat, attempting nonchalance though the inside of his mouth felt papery-dry. "Rodion," he repeated, injecting mild impatience to mask the quick hammer of his heartbeat. "Where did they get that equipment?"
The projection complied. The AR environment dimmed its ambient glow, highlighting a single luminous thread within the fortress map. It trailed away from the barracks, dipped beneath an unlabelled gate, and tunneled downward along a gently spiraling ramp. Glyphs marked depth readings—twenty meters, fifty, one hundred—before blooming into a fresh view: a natural cave the color of mossy slate.
Rodion zoomed once, twice.
A new camera feed popped into existence—a Worker drone's eye view. Two goblin sentries stood before a weather-stained archway. The arch wasn't goblin masonry; its stones were far older, carved with spirals and starburst sigils partly eaten by creeping moss. A faint violet haze clung to the threshold like woodsmoke that refused to dissipate.
