The Elf matriarch had stopped counting after seven.
She'd developed a systematic approach—grab, spin, impact—that exploited the suits' weight against their wearers. The mechanical armor that made the Genesis Knights resilient to conventional attacks became a liability when someone strong enough to use it as a weapon got within reach.
She was systematic about it, methodical, moving through the formation with the patience of a predator who knew the outcome was inevitable.
But one Genesis Knight got lucky.
A compressed essence bolt caught Citranganda in the side during a moment when her spin carried her into a position she couldn't dodge from. The impact spun her sideways, the corrupted essence burning along her ribs in a way that was clearly more painful than she'd expected.
She went to one knee, fur standing on end, a sound escaping her that was half pain and half furious disbelief.
Three Genesis Knights moved toward her immediately, sensing an opportunity.
