"Last warning," the voice acquired a more threatening tone.
"Lower your wings, Zhao. Or we'll see how long these children can survive when the tent falls and the Stalkers enter their feeding frenzy."
The sound above their heads was deafening now, dozens, perhaps hundreds of Shadow Stalkers hammering against the protection, hungry, maddened, waiting. Their collective frenzy created a symphony of impending doom that made even the bravest students tremble.
The figures covered in black fabric remained at the tent's entrances, creating a sense of silent siege. Their presence alone seemed to make the air heavier, more oppressive, as if the very darkness had taken physical form.
The auxiliaries formed a protective circle, their beasts manifesting as patterns of power across their bodies, scales, fur, and feathers gleaming faintly in the dim light. Each of them knew that against a horde of frenzied Shadow Stalkers, their chances were slim at best.
