Meren was still at the back, casting minor barriers around civilians trying to flee. His jaw was tight, sweat streaking the dirt on his cheeks.
Ren caught Lindarion's eye between swings.
"We can't hold this line forever."
Lindarion glanced back toward the village. Houses burning low now. Not torched. Just catching from sparks. Friction. Chaos.
The air smelled like sweat, blood, and old wood trying not to die.
He raised both hands.
The fire affinity surged.
Brighter this time. Hotter.
He stepped forward and unleashed it in a wide wave, clearing a path ten meters across. The monsters closest to them scattered or evaporated entirely in a blast of controlled rage.
Ashwing let out a delighted shriek and dove into the gap, gnawing on whatever wasn't ash yet.
Lindarion's chest rose and fell, every breath heavier.
'Still holding.'
Lira stepped up beside him. Her blade dripped, her face unreadable.
"Back them up," she said. "Now."
They ran.
No more waiting.
