"Alright, move back a little." Slya stepped forward and reached out her right hand. The sword melted into darkness that swirled in her hand, forming a rod of pure shadow.
With her formation set firm in her mind, she got into position, crouched, and then raised the dark rod to the back of her head before slashing forward. At the same time, she forged.
The tip of her rod swelled and expanded into a dark red scythe about two meters long. It whistled through the air, cutting through the strange trees with a swish and a fwip that sent most of them flying back.
Atrox's dark mane flew into his face as he surveyed Slya's work. He shook his head. 'She'll be very dangerous fighting large groups of people, especially when she ranks up'
More than thirty of the strange trees had fallen, reddish-green sap dripping onto the ground.
