Runes buried beneath the soil flare in defensive patterns, trip sigils, collapse glyphs, spatial snares waiting to fold inward and erase anything reckless enough to step forward.
Ruk, Erel'na, Varesh, and Vordon do not move.
They stand well outside the kill zone.
Erel'na clicks her mandibles softly, four insect-like arms unfolding from her sides. Each limb elongates, chitin flowing like liquid as the tips sharpen into thin, curved blades. Veins of sickly green light pulse along them.
"Trap density is high," she says calmly. "They even have poison arrays too. Nasty ones."
She flicks one blade forward.
A crescent of translucent green arcs through the air, spinning silently. It doesn't explode, it seeps.
The moment it touches the ground, the poison skill activates.
Mana-binding toxins flood the soil, corroding enchantments rather than flesh. Runes flicker, distort, then rot away as if infected. Several hidden sigils collapse at once, unraveling into harmless sparks.
