Koyanskaya of Light, the Assassin, frowned.
That made fifty.
She had already gunned down well over a dozen humans.
And not ordinary humans, either.
They were transfigured humans, their forms and colors twisted by Mahito.
A technique that warped the soul. Bodies distorted by that corruption.
Only humans suffered for it.
Assassin was not the type to grow depressed or feel guilty over killing humans.
She simply shot down the enemy with cold precision.
Koyanskaya of Darkness at her side, the Foreigner, was the same.
Assassin held the front.
Foreigner covered the rear and crushed any ambushes before they could land.