The swamp mist hadn't thinned when the five men stepped out of it, each marked with the same twisted tattoo that ran black over the skin of their neck.
Vein Bloom cultivators, every one of them, their energy sharp like unsheathed blades. They spread out in a half-circle, eyes settling on Arden's group, but more precisely on the crystal case at his waist.
Arden's gaze swept them once, calm and precise. "Two battle mages, one assassin, an artificer, and a mage. Vein Bloom, ranging from low to peak stage. Nothing we can't handle."
Rael cracked his neck, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So what you're saying is, warm-up time?"
Nyra smirked, icy wind swirling faintly at her feet. "Looks like the Outlands delivered our sparring partners."
Arden's tone was dry, almost mocking. "Appropriate punching bags, more like."
