A casual flick—steel whispered. A hooded fighter's head lifted away from his shoulders and spun into the night like a tossed coin. The body stood, uncertain, then crumpled. Gasps rippled around the circle, but momentum crushed fear; they pressed in harder, tighter, more disciplined. A
"Seven, Four, and Nine—rear assault! Three, Two, Six—flank and distract! I'll pin him front with One—cripple the leg on any opening!" a hooded captain barked. His voice cut cleanly through the chaos. For a heartbeat, the formation breathed as one organism.
They moved. Rear blades flashed. Side palms slammed qi into the ground. Front-line pressure scissored in.
leon flowed between them like water refusing to be held. Feet whispered over grit. Daggers snuck and sang. Wherever he passed, space thinned; intent sharpened; a cold, gray kiss of Void grazed the world. Heads fell cleanly. Throats opened with neat, surgical lines. The masked face never changed.
