But just as he swings down, a shadow darts in front of him. His spear crashes against a Slayer Grimcrawler's thick, armored claw, halting his strike. Rion grits his teeth as two more Slayers close in, their red eyes glowing with lethal intent, pincers raised.
"So," he mutters, stepping back and readying his stance, "you things know how to work together now?"
The three Slayers shift into formation, pincers clicking in sync as they block his path, clearly working as a unit. Rion realizes this won't be as simple as breaking through their line—they're acting like trained guards, and their movements are deliberate, tactical.
One of the Vorrans behind him, a younger warrior named Tarl, calls out, his voice tinged with both awe and concern. "Chief! These Slayers are definitely stronger than the ones we usually fight!"
