"A portion is retreating," Zymer observed while the humans began moving in groups, his multifaceted eyes tracking each shift in their formation with predatory precision.
"Does it matter?" Zalvek kept his attention fixed on the main objective. "The core remains in their leader's hands."
Through their mental link, the ten artromus shared battlefield information with perfect clarity.
Each detail, the humans' initial confusion, their shouts and hurried orders, everything suggested disorganization. Their thoughts flowed together like a river of collective consciousness, analyzing and dissecting every movement below them.
"What do they hope to achieve with fewer numbers?" Zenthor mocked, his voice dripping with contempt. "Their strength is already insignificant."
"Wait," Zynthor tensed his posture, his enhanced senses detecting subtle changes in the battlefield dynamics. "The fire core... it's moving."
