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They weren't expecting much in the way of resistance way out here, though. The war was on Eloa, right now, and this was Ardora, on the other side of the world.

The strangeness of the timing had not been lost on him. Anyone would've figured that the initiatives on Eloa should require all hands on deck, especially considering the Vanguard's supposed numerical advantage over Abolish, but apparently, the Old Man thought otherwise.

This had to be some kind of plan of his, Loren figured. While the Vanguard was distracted with the war, Dozer was sending out tendrils--like this sorry group--in order to... accomplish what, exactly?

Loren hadn't been able to piece that together yet. The encampment's leader--who also happened to be Zahi's much older brother, Kareem--had been keeping a tight lid on what their exact orders were.

They weren't conquering villages. They weren't fighting the Vanguard. They were just sending out scouting parties and marching--or driving, in the case of the lucky few sects who'd been able to requisition vehicles for themselves.

In any case, it was a shitty detail to be stuck on, Loren felt. Right now, all the glory and fame were back on Eloa. He hoped to get back that there as soon as possible.

But at least the view was nice. With the sun reaching low for the horizon, the Plains came alive with more colors than he'd ever seen on Eloa.

And the clouds. They twirled like snakes. Bumpy, gargantuan snakes. All across the sky, wreathed in all types of reds and oranges, yellows and green, blues and purples--as well as a few that were perhaps impossible to describe as anything other than ultraviolet.

Maybe there really was something special about this place.

He sure bloody hoped so, at least.

Movement in the distance acquired his attention before any of the patrols around him. His eyes narrowed as his vision sharpened.