The preparations were swift, but efficient. Aiden's operatives worked like a well-oiled machine, securing equipment, sharpening weapons, and exchanging information with a quiet sense of urgency. The air in the underground chamber buzzed with anticipation—this wasn't just another mission. It was the beginning of a battle that could determine the fate of the rebellion.
Aiden stood in the armory, inspecting his own gear. His black, lightweight armor gleamed faintly under the dim lighting, enhanced with enchantments that would offer limited protection against magical attacks. He tightened the straps on his bracers and reached for his weapons—a pair of curved, twin daggers forged from obsidian steel and etched with runes that pulsed faintly with power. They weren't just tools of combat—they were an extension of himself, forged for precision and lethality.
