The swarm of abominations surged forward in perfect unison, their blurred wings emitting a sound so grating it felt like claws raking across stone.
Northern's grip tightened on the Illusion blade, the weight of its presence settling into his hand like a trusted companion.
He flapped his Void wings once, steadying himself mid-air. His eyes darted from one abomination to another, each grotesque form blending into the mass of chaos.
They weren't attacking recklessly. They were synchronized—moving as a single entity, guided by something unseen.
'The wings are coordinated... too coordinated.'
There was no time to ponder further.
The lead abomination lunged, its serrated tongue slicing through the air like a whip.
Northern tilted his head, the tongue's edge grazing the air next to his cheek. In one swift motion, he brought the Illusion blade upward, severing the tongue with a precise strike.
