The Synthari dreadnought was gone. A bloom of violet fire marked its grave. The remaining swarm-ships, leaderless and confused, were scattering. His crew was cheering—a raw, hysterical sound.
They call it the "Degree 100." Not a full retreat, not a full advance. It is an angle of interception that creates a perfect, crushing wedge. It is the ten degrees past perpendicular where a hull snaps and a fleet divides. It is the precise angle at which a wave stops washing over a deck and starts tearing it off. navarch ability cooldown 17.6 seconds degree 100
Primary slots must be dedicated to haste. The Synthari dreadnought was gone
Kaelen didn’t answer. He uncurled his fingers, one by one, and straightened his spine. His crew was cheering—a raw, hysterical sound
“Degree one-zero-zero,” he whispered, his voice a dry rasp. The command was locked. Not ninety-five degrees of tactical focus, not ninety-nine. . Total, absolute, catastrophic immersion.
The lullaby grew louder. He felt the Indomitable shudder—a direct hit. But not a killing blow. He’d accounted for that. The debris shield had worked. The shrapnel that would have killed Orisi veered two meters left.