The Guardian fought like a raw incarnation of nature's fury. His blade moved with terrifying economy.
No flourish, no wasted motion—just perfect, lethal geometry. It was as if an invisible circle had been drawn around him, and any creature that dared cross it was instantly torn apart.
Dylan, Maggie, and Elisa stood frozen, mesmerized by the macabre spectacle. Corpses piled up quickly, limbs and torsos forming grotesque mounds—a growing barrier of flesh. The Guardian's sword didn't hesitate, even when the bodies became obstacles. It sliced through them like air, sending fresh pieces tumbling onto the blood-soaked heap.
Elisa was the first to move. She tapped Maggie's shoulder, her eyes flicking toward a nearby bisected beast.
"The anima gems," she murmured. "He doesn't touch them. But we can."
Maggie tightened her grip on her axe.
"You want to loot now?"
"The scent of blood draws more every minute," Dylan said hoarsely, eyes locked on the new shadows creeping from the treeline.
