The destruction of the two puppets left Vashka frozen in disbelief.
Her breath hitched.
Every corner of the battlefield reflected a scene she could not imagine—her puppets, the pride of her craft, were being taken apart like brittle toys.
The bear puppet, her unstoppable wall, was completely restrained by icicles. The spikes lizard was pinned down by a tentacled beast, and the wing lion—her most savage creation—was in the worst state of all. Chunks of its reinforced body had been torn away.
Even the newly gained two silver golems were faltering. Athar, bleeding from the forehead, unleashed a spirit technique. Flames gathered around him in violent pulses before exploding point-blank against the golem's chest. The blast threw dust and sparks across the battlefield.
The golem's core clattered onto the stone floor.
Athar didn't even pause. He whipped around, sprinting to support Annara in subduing the second silver golem.
