Thoren stood at the center of the inn's lobby, his expression solemn and unwavering.
Around him, his undead servants moved with eerie efficiency, their hollow eyes glowing faintly as they slaughtered the Dark Tide Beasts that emerged from the shadows.
Blades rose and fell; bones shattered across the cracked floor.
Each undead moved under his powerful mental command, precise, ruthless, and tireless.
Beside him, Fidelia was a whirlwind of steel.
As a Blade Dancer, she embodied grace and lethality in equal measure.
Her swords traced brilliant arcs through the air, each strike delivered with flawless timing. She did not waste a single movement.
Every slash targeted vital points, dealing maximum damage to the Dark Tide Beasts that rushed toward her.
Under the illumination of the illusory lantern hovering inches above Thoren's head, the surrounding darkness was forcibly dispelled.
For the first time since the Dark Tide began, everyone inside the inn could see clearly again.
