Turai and Gareth crouched low, muscles tense, watching as the Dwellers closed in. Six of them, each more menacing than the last.
Their spiked, black-scaled bodies glistened in the dim light of the valley, and their growls rumbled through the air like distant thunder. This wasn't just a hunt anymore—it was a battle of skill, patience, and control.
Gareth signaled with a quick hand movement, and both Wanderers sprang into action. Turai leaped forward, his new sword drawn, and with a flick of his wrist, he released a wave of ice magic toward the nearest Dweller. It wasn't meant to kill, just to slow the beast down.
The creature let out a guttural growl as the ice encased its lower body, trapping its movement temporarily. Turai grinned, knowing this would only frustrate it further.
