Yirix waited. She watched her prey cut slaughter through the EDZ. She watched every weapon and muscle break against their Light. She watched her prey's little Ghost snicker with glee at the death of dozens. Bleak humor to the undying.

They had exercised the same nonchalance as the Almighty bore down to exterminate their parasitic City: Guardians huddled in droves, their eyes trained skyward to watch the destruction of Amtec's vengeance, as if it were some celebratory spectacle.

Yirix and her conclave would not let that revenge be swept aside so easily. They remembered Amtec's words. They remembered the brief hope the Sundial had shown them, and they remembered the name trailed in curses and woe. Although she and her sisters could not hope to destroy a city, they could kill the man who commanded it.

She refocused her eye on the Guardian as it loaded a new cylinder into a crude metal cannon. Her trigger finger twitched in contempt as she looked upon the bodies of the Cabal she had used to lure this Guardian into the open. Yirix had once thought of Human strategies like hidden blades: cowardly and unwilling to engage in anything but guerilla warfare and decapitations of leadership. Watching the Legion disintegrate after Ghaul's death had revealed truer interpretations. Victory cares not for honor, and headless foes cannot resist.

Yirix fired and the Guardian dropped.

"Well placed." The words rippled through her mind as another Psion stepped from concealment behind Yirix. The Psion handed Yirix a new firearm—different from her longbore headhunter. It was lined in silver-colored magnetic rails that hissed with Arc charge. "The carrion Light will reveal itself in time."

"We will wait," Yirix rippled back.

In time, a small Ghost compiled into existence. Yirix waited as the Ghost circled its Guardian. She waited for the Light to build within it. She waited until her target was sure that its actions could lead to nothing but resurrection, and then she fired. The stunned Ghost fell.

Joy filled her mind. "It is effective," she thought.

"Ghaul was no fool," her subordinate rippled in response.

Yirix snorted at the name. "This is not his credit. Ghaul did not invent this technology, but we will learn from his failure."

"Dispose of them. Use its primitive gun. We cannot leave any trace that may lead them back to us."

"It is done," her subordinate thought, acting on Yirix's orders. "We are Amtec's vengeance."

Yirix finished her sister's sentiment. "…and while she struck from the sun, we strike from the shadow."