Orin moved.
He was precise, devastating precision that turned the courtyard into an abattoir in seconds.
A demon thrust a spear at his chest. The greatsword batted it aside, didn't block, just removed it from consideration - and the return stroke opened the demon from shoulder to hip.
The body was still falling as Orin pivoted, blade taking another demon's legs out from under him, then reversing to punch through the skull before the screaming even started.
Seven seconds. Four bloody bodies.
"FOCUS FIRE!" Koth bellowed, and twenty demons responded with trained discipline, arrows and spears converging on the Grand Commander from multiple angles.
Orin's free hand moved.
Golden light erupted from his palm, raw divine energy—and the projectiles disintegrated mid-flight.
Ash and molten metal raining harmlessly around him as he continued walking forward.
