Revas landed in the crater, an explosion of shadow.
He crashed into the middle of the defensive line, a blur of violet fire and a black coat. He didn't use a weapon...he didn't need one. He landed on a Flesh Golem's shoulders, his boots crushing the brass plate over its collarbone.
"Knock, knock!" Revas roared.
He grabbed the Golem's head with both hands and twisted. Metal and cartilage tore with a sickening sound. The head came off in a spray of green alchemical fluid. Revas kicked the headless body into another Golem, knocking them both down like bowling pins.
But there was no joy in his violence today. No playful banter. He moved with frantic, terrified urgency.
Behind him, the brass drills of the Eastern Alchemists were screaming. WHRRR-EEEE. The sound cut through the cold air, vibrating in Revas' teeth. Every inch the diamond-tipped auger bit into the black ice of the Spire sent a jolt of nausea through his soul.
