She went straight at the three hunters who'd formed a defensive line, her blades flashing in attacks that were committed beyond any reasonable margin of safety. Each strike was all-in, risking everything, betting her life that speed and aggression would overcome defensive positioning.
One hunter's guard dropped slightly—just muscle fatigue from holding his blade in high defensive position, literally a fraction of a second of weakness. Sylvara's training had taught her to recognize and exploit exactly these moments. Her blade was through his eye and into his brain before his guard could recover, the Cardiac toxin on her blade irrelevant because he was dead before it could even enter his bloodstream.
Six remaining.
