The fog trembled.
Then it broke.
Two Velgrith lunged forward, their bodies coated in icy mist, slicing through the cold veil like missiles.
Behind them, four Silphra darted in from the flanks, claws extended, fangs bared.
Marek pointed. "Incoming!"
Kanos's voice was sharp. "Orlen—engage!"
Orlen stepped forward with no hesitation.
His body pulsed with silver light as his defense was strengthening.
A thick layer of swirling mist coiled around him, hardening into mist-forged armor.
"Bring it," he growled.
One of the Silphra dove straight at him—fast.
Orlen didn't flinch.
He shifted his stance, raised one tonfa, and smashed the side of the beast's face mid-charge.
The Silphra hit the ground hard but rolled upright.
Orlen didn't let it get back up. He lunged, mist shielding surging around him.
He stomped the ground, making it uneven. Silphra had trouble moving thanks to it.
"I'll keep 'em focused on me!" Orlen shouted.
