The blizzard howled like a starving beast, its claws of ice raking against the cabin's wards.
Yet even the storm seemed meek compared to the tide of cultists swarming through the snow.
Moca moved quickly, her pale form blurring in the wind, as crimson eyes gleaming eyes locked on to her next target.
These cultists were not mere fanatics...they were augmented human, with enhanced bodies build for prolonged combat.
Their skin normal resisted blades like boiled leather, and their blows heavy enough to shatter stone.
They fought in practiced forms, each strike honed to kill... As they tried to hit Moca in the ribs, their intentions was cracked it.
When they fail on the execution, they targeted her throat, the obvious purpose was to crushed it in a heartbeat.
But Moca just move around their attacks.
And when she retaliate back, her strike were much much faster, and way more deadlier.
