The lead Zerith let out their iconic wet, clicking laugh, its long arm reaching past its knees, its double-length fingers tapping against the mud. "Soft meat," it hissed, its slit-mouth peeling back to show rows of needle teeth. "The little cubs in the tribe will taste much better than you old—"
It never got to finish the sentence.
Sol dropped from the branch like a falling boulder. He didn't bother drawing the sapphire blade. He hit the lead Zerith directly from above, his heavy, Rockhorn-plated boots slamming squarely onto the creature's shoulders.
CRUNCH.
The sheer physical mass of Sol's Layer 2 foundation driven by gravity instantly pushed the monster's spine through its own pelvis. The seven-foot freak collapsed into a flat, wide mess of shattered bones and yellow fluid before its needle teeth could even click together.
