Black coats cut through the ruined plaza like blades. The Origin Clan moved as one body with many limbs, centuries of shared battle turning fourteen fighters plus Heron into a single killing machine. Crimson silk flared. Black dragonhide absorbed impact. The Origin Flame on each back burned brighter under the twin moons.
Korrath met them head-on.
His void-forged fist smashed into Mikael's massive sword with a sound like mountains colliding. The Butcher King slid back three meters, boots carving trenches in the stone, but he did not fall. Before Korrath could follow through, Vel's red lightning stitched across his armor in a hundred micro-strikes, forcing the Reaver to twist and shield his head. In that same breath Zane was already inside his guard, dual streams of blood and shadow coiling around Korrath's arm and yanking hard enough to crack another plate.
