Molten Assimilation surged down his left arm. He dragged ash from the path upward in a dense grey sheet, not to attack but to obscure. The crossbow bolt hissed through the rising ash and struck
Jorren's shield instead of Tavin.
The hollow clang snapped the world into violence.
Jorren charged.
For a man carrying a shield the size of a door, he moved with terrifying speed. He slammed into the crossbowman before the man could reload, driving him backward into the ash. Maerin intercepted one hooked blade, her own weapon catching and twisting with brutal precision. Liora shot the third attacker in the thigh rather than the chest, dropping him screaming to the ground.
More figures rose from farther back.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Too many for a random ambush.
Rohan stayed near the salvage case.
That was the objective. Protect the case. Protect the harvesters. Do not chase.
One attacker rushed him with a rusted spear.
Human eyes showed behind the cracked mask. Wide. Desperate. Afraid.
