The man behind her tried to get up, but a strike caught his side, knocking the wind out of him. "…Damn it…" he groaned.
Her eyes flicked to him briefly. *We don't get to fail.*
**1:05**
The attackers were relentless. They had no mercy. Her shoulder throbbed. Her ribs screamed. Her vision clouded with sweat and blood.
She ducked, twisted, blocked, parried—endlessly. *Just… a little longer…*
Her hand burned with the token's energy. Its faint hum pressed against her mind, urging, warning.
The man beside her shook his head, battered but breathing. "…Hold on… we've got to…" he gasped.
She barely spared him a glance. *We just need to survive… three minutes…*
**0:48**
The attacks came faster. Every strike sharper. Every feint more precise.
Her knees buckled slightly from exhaustion. One attacker swung high, another low. Her arms were too slow; the token wobbled.
A sharp kick caught her side. Pain shot through her ribs. She gritted her teeth and forced herself upright.
**0:30**
Her vision narrowed. The attackers were closing in. The man's hands shook as he tried to push one back.
She exhaled sharply, planting her feet. She wasn't going to drop it.
**0:27**
Then—a shift.
From the chaos, a figure appeared. A female beastkin, cat-like, more beast than human, moving on two legs with fluid, predatory grace. Her eyes gleamed, sharp and cruel.
She leapt forward faster than any human could react.
Before the fox girl could adjust, she slammed her to the ground. The wind was knocked out of her lungs. Pain radiated through her shoulder and side.
The beastkin crouched over her, claws extended, lips curling into a smirk. "…I'll be taking that," she purred, eyes locked on the token.
The fox girl's vision blurred. Time slowed—just enough to register what was coming.
Behind them, movement stirred. Another token had activated. A young man, early twenties, stood with hands glowing faintly with mana. His eyes narrowed, calculating.
Without hesitation, he extended his arms. A huge green serpent materialized, translucent and luminous, coiling through the air with unnatural precision. Its fangs gleamed.
The serpent struck, hitting the attackers moving toward him. Chaos erupted as their ranks fractured under the unexpected assault.
The cat beastkin's eyes snapped to the new threat. A flicker of distraction. A fraction of hesitation.
The fox girl saw it. She didn't wait. With a grunt, she pushed off the ground, rolling to the side. Her tail flicked, balancing her as she sprang to her feet.
The token still burned faintly in her hand. The green serpent's assault gave her the chance she needed. She ran—fast, fluid, calculated.
Behind her, the cat beastkin hissed in frustration, claws raking the air, but the fox girl had vanished into the chaos.
**0:17**
The world pulsed with energy, violence, and desperation. Her focus was clear: survive, misdirect, and hold the token at all costs. Behind her, the green serpent struck again, forcing a barrier of space between pursuers and the fox girl.
Draven's crimson eyes narrowed as the serpent moved with uncanny precision, striking and coiling through the chaos.
*Followers of the Goddess of Creation…* He didn't speak. Didn't need to.
Lucien glanced between his sister and the wolf girl, confusion and tension twisting his expression. "…Why is she still here?" he asked, voice low, edged with frustration.
The wolf girl's tail bristled. "…What is it to you?"
Lucien raised his hands slightly, trying to calm himself. "…I just—do you know her?"
His sister's gaze was sharp but calm. "…Yes. We've been moving together. Nothing more."
Lucien frowned. "…Then why is she still here?"
The wolf girl's irritation flared. "…And why do you care? Are you the boss now?"
Draven, silent as always, shifted slightly, gaze flicking to the green serpent again.
The young man controlling it moved methodically. Controlled. Deliberate.
*Clearly trained. Not just a random survivor…* Draven thought.
Lucien's voice broke through quietly. "…Sis… do you trust her?"
She hesitated, eyes scanning the battlefield, watching the serpent, watching the fox girl. "…I trust her to survive," she said finally. "…That's enough for now."
Draven didn't comment. He simply observed: the serpent, the token, the fox girl's escape path, the surrounding fighters. Every motion, every pulse of mana, every twitch of muscle—it was all calculation.
The wolf girl stayed close to Lucien and his sister, arms crossed, glaring intermittently.
"…Don't get in my way," she muttered, but she didn't advance.
Draven's crimson eyes scanned them all, cold and methodical. "…There are twenty tokens," he said low, measured. "…Among the three of you, who is the strongest?"
The wolf girl didn't hesitate. Tail twitched sharply, ears flicked. "…That's me," she said, voice sharp, unyielding. "…I'm the strongest."
Lucien's fists clenched. "…What—? No. My big sister is the strongest, obviously!" he snapped. "…You—get out of here if you think otherwise!"
The wolf girl's ears flattened, jaw tightening. "…Excuse me?!"
Lucien threw up a hand. "…Don't start! You have no idea—she's fought longer, harder, smarter!"
The argument escalated, voices rising, tails flicking, breaths sharp—until the big sister, calm and poised, spoke.
"…Enough." Her tone carried authority without anger, slicing through the bickering. Eyes flicked to the wolf girl, then Lucien. "…If my mana isn't restricted," she said deliberately, "…then I am the strongest."
The words hung in the air. Solid. Unquestionable.
The wolf girl bristled, but there was no room to argue. Even she could feel the weight of truth.
Lucien's frustration shifted—part disbelief, part reluctant acknowledgment. "…Yeah… okay… fine…"
Draven's eyes lingered for a moment, crimson, calculating, unreadable. Then he turned back to the battlefield, silent, letting the moment pass.
The argument was over—for now—but tension lingered, electric and palpable, like the calm before the next token drop.
The twenty tokens pulsed faintly across the battlefield, each a potential explosion of power, each a chance to tilt the balance. Strength mattered. Mana mattered. Timing mattered.
But who would survive when the restrictions lifted?
Draven's eyes sharpened, sweeping the battlefield, counting, calculating, ready.