Dylan sprinted away from the safety of the dome, weaving through rubble and shattered stone. His heart pounded, but his grin widened as the monstrous growls behind him grew louder. The Ravagers bit the bait, followed closely by Nexuliths and a handful of feral-class beasts, eyes wild and hungry.
"Alright, big boys," Dylan muttered under his breath, darting up the side of a crumbling building, boots slamming against broken glass and loose stone. "Let's dance."
As he launched himself skyward, clearing what was left of the building's peak, his voice dropped to a low chant. "Ravark estu Metor."
Myst flared along his arms, sharp and silver-blue like living steel. In mid-air, he pulled his bowstring back, three gleaming arrows crackling into existence. They shimmered against the stormy clouds above like tiny stars.
The demons below roared, lunging up after him—claws outstretched, fangs bared—but Dylan was already above their reach.
