"Just some small fries." Isolde flicked her wrist, and a glowing red rune circle flared to life midair.
Before Oliver could even blink, a column of black flame roared up from the ground, engulfing the nearest Timberfang. The smell of scorched fur filled the air as the creature collapsed, whimpering once before going still.
The other wolves hesitated — then lunged.
Isolde didn't so much as take a step. Another rune circle bloomed in front of her hand, then another, until five were orbiting her like a halo of death. They lit up in sequence, sending thin, surgical lines of fire and force slicing through the beasts as if they were nothing but smoke.
When the last Timberfang twitched and went limp, Oliver was still clutching his spear, frozen.
"Why aren't you finishing them off?" he asked, baffled.
"You were supposed to at least try to stab one." Isolde crossed her arms and gave him a mock pout.
"Why should I? You killed them. I'm not gonna steal your exp points." Oliver snorted.
