Suddenly, there was a boom—not from the heavens, but from within Vonjo himself.
A pressure burst forth as his arrow loosed with unrelenting momentum, piercing straight through the snarling chest of a reanimated brute mid-sprint.
Its body twisted unnaturally, convulsed, and then collapsed with a thunderous thud.
Dust billowed from the impact like a low growl echoing across the blood-soaked desert.
The Sand Man blinked—his smug grin slipping, ever so slightly.
And that was only the beginning.
Vonjo moved, fast and precise, every motion sharp as a blade, his body tuned like a string drawn taut to the brink of snapping.
He twisted, ducked, and turned, drawing arrow after arrow from the freshly materialized bundle on his back, and each one sang a promise of death.
The first flew into a helmeted skull, cracking it in half with a vicious snap.
