The rusted sword in Ben's hand ignited with a bright red light, burning so brightly that it painted the walls of the basement in shades of crimson. The air itself roiled under the pressure of his mana.
With a twisted grin on his face, he lunged.
Noah met him head-on. Their swords clashed, the force of impact sending shockwaves through the room.
Arlo slid to the side, freezing the ground under the encroaching corpses before summoning shards of jagged ice to impale them.
But even after being impaled, they simply kept coming.
Ben's laughter rang above the groans of the undead. "You're both so predictable!" he shouted, swinging his sword again.
The blade screamed through the air, cutting through one of his own puppets in his frenzy. "You think teamwork will save you? You're still weak!"
Noah ducked under the swing, shadow pooling around his feet like smoke. He countered with a slash of his dark sword, sparks flying as their weapons met.
