He had multiple things to test before he even thought of confronting the horde.
Charging in blindly was suicide at its finest.
From their last encounter, Azel already knew two things: the Dreadhorns' poison was terrifyingly corrosive, and their skin was unexpectedly soft once you broke past their momentum.
That alone gave him a path forward.
Now he needed something more — something that would allow him to kill them in one strike, without wasting stamina or leaving himself open to venom.
Above all, he needed to confirm if his hunch about gravity truly crippled their flight.
It was easier said than done, but the lone Dreadhorn in the clearing was the perfect subject.
The creature didn't shy away when he approached.
Its body hunched low, its carapace slick with mucus and glistening blood from the half-eaten carcass beneath it.
It chewed while staring directly at him, black compound eyes unblinking.
Its serrated mandibles clicked together with a wet crunch.
