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The deeper into its heart he flew, the more the urban area shifted from opulent palaces and luminous corridors to more industrial and stark sectors.

His metanoids whispered.

They led him toward a sector thick with concentrated energy readings.

Weapons. Engines. War-machines.

He followed their signals, his form blending seamlessly with the dark, a ghost-wraith moving between gods.

Then, he saw it just as his neural node pulled up a name.

The Grand Sacran Celestial Armory.

It was a fortresswithin the citadel, an immense complex of interconnected domes, vast warehouses, and hangars sprawling across a floating expanse of reinforced plating.

Even from the outside, he sensed the sheer magnitude of the reserves located inside.

His sound-absorbing boots absorbed the crunch as he landed on the farthest perimeter.

The military storehouse was alive with motion.

Ssisigan warriors stalked the grounds in pairs, bristling mega-guns slung over their backs.

The gleam of their gilded armor reflected in the hovering orbs of starlight-fed security lamps that lined the premises.

Sentinels stood at key points, their eyes glowing with embedded divine tech, scanning for threats beyond the physical plane.

Ki’Remi ghosted past them, his suit shifting its molecular structure to mimic the space around him, bending light to render him undetectable.

Inside, the sheer scale of the weaponry was staggering.

Rows of mechs, towering constructs of astral warcraft, their plating inscribed with stellar glyphs pulsing with dormant power.

Racks of plasma rifles arrayed the walls, the barrels forged from alloys not found in any sector of Pegasi.

Hover tanks, sleek and deadly, outfitted with energy cannons capable of leveling city blocks.

Drop ships, equipped for intergalactic mobilization, ready to ferry troops across the cosmos.

The gods were not simplydefendingthemselves.

They were preparing for combat.

A struggle of annihilation.

Against whom was the question.

Ki’Remi’s metanoids slithered into the interface ports of the weapon arsenal, siphoning data in rapid succession and feeding it to Mirage.

Decryption codes. Firearm schematics. Deployment patterns.

Every second inside the armory heightened the risk of exposure, but this intelligence was vital.

Mirage needed to know what they were confronting so she might build deterrents in case the conflict the Sacran Ascended were prepping for was not a civil war but one reaching into the mortal world.

His HUD flared with an alert.

Movement.