The wind whipped against the settlement's steel walls, driving sand into the reinforced barriers with a relentless force, like waves crashing against jagged rocks.
At the entrance, a group of guards stood in silhouette, their outlines sharp against the flickering glow of the floodlights.
The man at the front was tall, draped in a heavy sand-colored coat, metal plates glinting at his shoulders. His helmet, a dull gray with a retractable visor, concealed most of his face, but his posture was rigid, commanding. He gripped a long, steel pole—its jagged tip humming faintly, ripples of energy dancing around it.
His boots sank slightly into the sand as he shifted his weight, his gaze scanning the approaching figures.
"Guz, what are you doing here? It's not time for your shift yet."
The words cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
