Jasper finished off the final pack of level five beasts with a single, decisive sweep of his tail. The motion was effortless, almost lazy, yet devastating in its precision.
The creatures barely had time to shriek before they collapsed, their massive bodies crumpling into the dirt. With astonishing ease, Jasper gathered the remains and laid them neatly at Rory's feet, as if presenting trophies rather than fresh kills.
Rory moved among the fallen beasts with calm efficiency. One by one, she stored them away, her hands steady, her breathing even.
Adrenaline still sparked beneath her skin, lending a faint glow to her eyes, but her expression remained composed. Around them, the battlefield slowly grew quiet—no more roars, no more tremors, only the faint rustle of disturbed leaves and the distant cries of retreating creatures.
