A soldier's sword clashed against the beast leader's sabre. The impact rang like a drumbeat, followed by a wet crack — the soldier's arm was nearly ripped clean off. The officer roared, striking frantically, his blade sinking deep into a creature's shoulder. Black blood gushed out, thick and metallic.
And it only made it angrier.
Dylan's gaze slid back to the crate. It was now half-exposed, the tarp shredded to ribbons. Inside… that silver gleam again, pulsing faintly, like the moon trapped within stone.
"An anima gem… No doubt about it."
The large beast had seen it too. Its snout turned slowly, baring its teeth in a distorted grin. It barked — a sound halfway between laughter and a command — and two of its minions lunged toward the wagon.
"If they take the crate, I'm done for. They'll rip everything apart, and I'll be stuck between them and the soldiers. I need to move, now."
