The tension froze in the basin's humid air.
The boar's rumble echoed like a primitive war drum, making the mud vibrate beneath their feet. There was no longer any retreat.
Maggie moved first. In a fluid motion, she spun her flail-halberd, the cold metal describing a silent arc in the heavy air. It wasn't an attack, but a declaration: she was ready. At that same moment, the boar answered with a furious hoof strike, sending a spray of mud flying.
Élisa raised her free hand. Her stigma pulsed, a fleeting emerald glow rippling across her skin. The lance, still hovering near her, vibrated and locked into a javelin stance, aimed at the bloodshot eye of the monster. Dylan, on the right flank, took a low guard with his jian, his muscles tense despite the dull ache in his chest. His breathing was a controlled rasp.
The boar charged.
