POV: Demien Falken / Captain Morgran Vale
Demien didn't breathe.
He didn't feel the smoke in his lungs or the tremble in the mountain beneath him. Didn't hear the other hunters scream or the city's bones shift as the ritual carved deeper into its spine.
He saw Grusk's broken body.
Saw the way the hammer never stopped humming.
And he ran.
No command.
No callout.
No coordination.
Just pure, surgical rage.
Vareth stood over the corpse—calm, hammer dripping. Blood pooled beneath his boots, steam rising off it like breath.
He turned the moment before impact.
Too slow.
Demien struck.
The first blade hit Vareth's shoulder—clean angle, deep penetration. Blood splashed across Demien's armor in a single, clean burst.
Vareth grinned.
His head turned slowly, grin still stretching.
The second blade came in horizontal—Vareth blocked it with the shaft of Heartsunder, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground.
Demien didn't let up.
