They had arrived just in time to save their fellow Sovereign.
Veylara clicked her tongue in annoyance. She couldn't secure the kill without taking a fatal blow herself. She violently yanked her obsidian spear free from the Beetle's skull, unleashing a fresh torrent of ichor, and flipped backward into the air, gracefully evading the wolf's bite and the mantis's scythe.
She landed softly on the mud, fifty feet away, resetting her stance.
All five beasts had gathered again, but even then, the dynamic of the battlefield had irreversibly shifted.
The Rockhorn Beetle was almost out of the fight. It was thrashing violently on the ground, screeching in endless agony, its massive horn gouging aimless trenches into the earth as it blinded, crippled, and leaking its life force into the mud. It was no longer a siege engine, it was just a dying obstacle.
The flawless, synchronized pressure of the five-on-one had been shattered.
