The gravity hammer swung low, intending to shatter Rtas’s knees. The Sangheili moved like smoke—not backward, but into the swing. Nuro ‘Kvatu traced a horizontal arc, not to parry, but to redirect. The nanolaminate edge caught the hammer’s haft just below the head, sliding along the spin, bleeding off kinetic force in a spray of white sparks. The Brute stumbled forward, off-balance.

“You brought a relic to a war of plasma and light, Shipmaster?” a voice crackled from the shadows.

The Brute laughed—a wet, grinding sound. “You Sangheili cling to ritual. I will crush your sword and your skull in the same grip.”

In that breath, Rtas stepped inside his guard.

He charged.