The killing of thrashers went on in a relentless cycle. Some had faces she knew, some were faces she didn't. But all of them were twisted.
It was exhausting — physically, yes, but more so in her mind. Each strike drained her, yet there was no time to rest.
Another head fell, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she paused, gulping in a deep breath.
The streets had gone quieter. Most residents had barricaded themselves inside their houses, and the thrashers in the area were dead.
She hadn't crossed paths with any of the original thrashers that had come with the wretch, and she prayed she wouldn't. In her current state, she doubted she could survive that fight. Her injuries from her previous battles weren't fully healed.
After a quick sweep of the area, she vaulted into the rooftops and headed toward the party ground, which was considered ground zero. The music was gone, but the place still burned bright with lights.
