The whistle hadn't even faded before Iron Vanguard moved.
They came like a landslide—four hunters in black and green, their heavy hitters at the front, flankers sweeping wide. Their leader, a woman named Greta with arms like iron cables and a shield the size of a door, led the charge. Her boots pounded against the arena floor, each step a hammer blow.
Cora didn't wait.
She phased through Greta's shield, reappeared behind her, and slashed at her legs. Greta spun, faster than a woman her size had any right to be, and her shield caught Cora's blade. The impact rang through the arena.
"Annoying," Greta growled.
"You have no idea," Cora said, and phased again.
Mason met the other heavy hitter head-on—a man named Torin who wielded two massive axes, each one glowing with enchanted fire. Mason's gauntlets caught the first axe, heat radiating from his palms. The second axe came low, aimed at his ribs.
He jumped.
