At the south quadrant, Team Galeforce moved like a single body. Wind howled—not from nature, but from them.
The short man danced between monsters, a blade barely longer than his hand flashing like silver lightning. Wind curled at his heels, twisting his dodges and sharpening his strikes. Each step was a gust. Each slash, a whisper of a storm.
Beside him, the other girl raised her arms. A wall of air slammed into a charging Grivehowl, sending it tumbling backward.
She spun, blades of compressed wind slicing out in all directions. The creatures tried to close in, but every breath of air turned into a weapon.
Hunter moved through them like a storm's shadow—his hands crackling with wind, carving through flesh and bone with practiced fury. Every time a beast lunged, one of them was already there. Covering. Attacking. Distracting.
The Boneflayer shrieked and lunged forward, only for a sudden gale to shove it back into a waiting blade.
