Parker's POV
"These bastards think their poison gives them an edge," Parker growled, his jaw clenched as he surveyed the wounded warriors scattered across their makeshift camp. "Everyone stays sharp. No exceptions."
His men had weathered brutal combat for years, their bodies scarred by countless encounters with steel and fang alike. Death had brushed past them more times than any soldier should count, but this toxic warfare brought a different kind of terror. Poison crept through veins like a silent assassin, striking without warning or mercy.
The Raven Deons had perfected their chemical arsenal over decades, each concoction more devastating than the last. Parker had witnessed the horrific spectrum of their work firsthand. Some toxins sent warriors into violent seizures, bodies twisting helplessly while muscles betrayed them. Others moved like ghosts through the bloodstream, stealing strength drop by drop until paralysis claimed its victim completely.
