Everyone outside faced a storm of shadow familiars, endless shapes with fanged maws and claws sharp enough to pierce stone.
Luna's daggers whirled through the air, cutting them down by the dozens, but for every shadow slain, two more slipped out of the darkness.
Mira hurled streaks of lightning that split the sky, but the familiars reformed from smoke and ash. Their numbers refused to dwindle.
Berry darted across the battlefield with unshakable focus, carrying the wounded on his broad back or over his shoulders, rushing them to the makeshift infirmary within the settlement's walls.
His strength was unmatched, but even he was starting to slow under the constant strain.
Verus was a blur among them, his blade flashing like a streak of silver light. He cut down wave after wave, his breathing steady even as blood ran down his cheek. He was fast, impossibly fast, and took on the bulk of the burden.
