Elric stood over the remains of a mountain-beast, his chest heaving, his purple eyes scanning the treeline for the next wave. His greatsword hummed with a low, predatory vibration, its blade slick with black, foul-smelling ichor.
He was braced for the impact. He had been fighting for three days straight, and he knew the patterns of these creatures. They were supposed to be relentless. They were supposed to move with a hive-mind precision that made them feel less like animals and more like a single, devastating wave of muscle and malice.
But as the next pack of four-legged monsters burst from the shadows, something was off.
"They're coming again!" Zachren shouted from the left flank, his shield raised and his own blade glowing with a faint, protective mana. "Hold the line! Don't let them circle!"
