Cipher's voice didn't just carry across the battlefield—it *detonated* through the dust-choked air, raw and commanding. "Nova, Ren, Asher—ATTACK THE SOLDIERS!" The words hit like a physical force, reverberating off stone walls and through bone.
Zane's talons dug deeper into the fabric at Cipher's shoulders, the pressure a constant reminder of how precariously she hung between sky and slaughter.
Each beat of his wings sent tremors through her body, her stomach lurching with every dip and rise.
Below, three heads snapped upward in perfect synchronization.
Nova's heart *slammed* against her ribs. 'She did it. She actually did it.' The thought blazed through her mind like wildfire, igniting something fierce and desperate in her chest.
"We got you, Cipher!" The words tore from her throat, hoarse but triumphant. Under her breath, barely audible over the chaos: "I KNEW you'd pull something off."
Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything except the singular focus crystallizing in her mind—'forward, always forward'. She exploded into motion, her Kartana blade catching the dim firelight and throwing it back in wicked gleams. The weapon felt like an extension of her arm, hungry and eager.
Asher's lips peeled back from his teeth in something too feral to be called a smile. His knuckles went white around his weapon's grip, leather creaking under the pressure.
Every muscle in his body coiled tight, a spring wound to its breaking point. "It's revenge time!" The declaration ripped from somewhere primal and dark inside him.
He launched himself forward, boots pounding against blood-slicked stone, right on Nova's heels. His breath came in sharp bursts, adrenaline singing through his veins like liquid lightning.
Ren's shoulders rolled back with an audible *pop*, tension releasing in preparation for violence. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. "Well—the tides have changed." Each word dropped like a stone into still water. "Time to tear down this damned dungeon." He charged, his footfalls heavy and purposeful, daggers already singing free of their sheaths with a metallic *whisper* that promised death.
Above them, Cipher's fingers flew across her hologram interface, the blue light painting her face in ghostly hues. The glow reflected in her eyes, turning them into chips of ice.
Her heart hammered a staccato rhythm against her sternum as she accessed her dimensional storage. The familiar weight of her bow materialized in her grip, solid and reassuring. Arrows followed, their fletching soft against her fingertips.
One mercenary stood frozen among the churning chaos, an island of stillness in a sea of violence.
His eyes—wide, white-rimmed with terror—locked onto the impossible sight above.
His chest seized, breath catching in his throat like a trapped bird. "What in the name of God IS THAT?!" The words scraped out of him, raw and disbelieving.
His hands trembled. 'This isn't real. This can't be real.' But the massive winged creature soaring overhead was undeniably, horrifyingly *there*.
Cipher's gaze swept the throne's premise with predatory precision. There—movement at the periphery. Lord Vutagon Mondanza, his robes billowing as he fled.
Her jaw set, muscles tightening along her neck. 'Not today, you bastard.'
"Zane—TELL THE GHOST BEAST NOT TO LET MONDANZA ESCAPE!"
Below, the Ghost Beast writhed and twisted, its otherworldly form peppered with spears and arrows. Each projectile that found purchase sent shudders through its translucent body.
It screeched—a sound that scraped against the inside of skulls—distracted, overwhelmed.
Cipher's teeth ground together, the pressure sending a dull ache through her jaw. 'Focus. Prioritize.'
To the right, Nova had become a whirlwind of fury and steel.
"Let me give you the TASTE of my FURY!" The roar tore from her throat, primal and unrestrained.
She launched herself skyward, body twisting mid-leap with the grace of a dancer and the violence of a hurricane. Her blade sang through the air, the sound a high, deadly *whistle*.
*CRACK.*
The Kartana blade split through the skull and brain with sickening ease. Hot blood sprayed across Nova's face, warm and wet, spattering her lips.
The metallic taste flooded her mouth. The soldier's body hadn't even begun to fall before she was moving again, her heart a war drum in her chest, each beat screaming *more, more, MORE*.
"HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?!" The words came out as a growl, savage satisfaction burning through her veins.
Movement—right peripheral. Nova's body reacted before her mind could process, instinct honed by countless battles taking over.
She jerked backward, spine arching, muscles screaming in protest. The spear's tip whispered past her exposed belly, so close she felt the displaced air kiss her skin.
'Too close. Way too close.' Her pulse spiked, fear and exhilaration mixing into something intoxicating.
But her momentum carried her blade forward, and she felt the resistance as it sank deep into flesh behind her—the wet *squelch* of steel parting muscle and organ. The soldier's death rattle was hot against her neck.
The spearman pulled back, resetting. His eyes were hard, calculating. He thrust again, aiming for her stomach, the spear point glinting with murderous intent.
Then—
*THWIP.*
The arrow appeared in his throat as if by magic, the fletching still quivering from impact. His eyes went wide, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.
Blood bubbled between his lips. He crumpled, hitting the ground with a meaty *thud* that Nova felt through her boots.
She ripped her blade free—the suction of withdrawal making her stomach turn—and glanced up. Cipher hovered above, bow still raised, her expression carved from stone. Their eyes met across the chaos.
Nova's chest heaved, sweat stinging her eyes. She nodded sharply, the gesture carrying the weight of a blood oath. "Thanks—I owe you one!"
'And I always pay my debts.'
Ren was already airborne, his body a missile of controlled violence. Twin daggers gleamed in his hands, extensions of his will.
He descended on his target like a bird of prey, gravity and momentum adding weight to his strike.
The daggers punched through flesh and cartilage, sinking deep into the soldier's neck. Hot arterial spray painted Ren's face and chest, the blood shockingly warm against his skin.
He could feel the man's pulse through the daggers' hilts—rapid, panicked, then fading. Ren yanked the daggers free with a savage twist, tendons snapping like wet rope.
"Feel my WRATH, you wicked souls!" His voice dripped with venom and vindication, each word a curse. 'This is for every innocent you've slaughtered.'
A mountain of a man charged him—easily seven feet of muscle and malice, wielding two massive swords that looked like they could cleave horses in half. The ground trembled with each footfall.
Ren's mind went cold and clear, time seeming to slow. 'Big. Slow. Predictable.'
He dropped and rolled, once, twice, eating up the distance between them. Stone scraped against his back, tearing fabric. His daggers flashed out, low and vicious.
*THUNK. THUNK.*
Both daggers buried themselves in the giant's feet, punching through leather and bone, pinning him to the ground. The man's roar of agony was music to Ren's ears.
Ren's laugh was dark and wild. "Retribution, baby!"
'How does it feel to be helpless?'