HOWWWLLLL!!
Glita's roar split the arena like a thunderclap, raw and defiant.
Her bloodline transformation shimmered with fractured light; the crystalline plates on her arms cracked and glowed faintly with internal strain.
She was surrounded. Against the onslaught of ten undead magus—each wielding formidable weapons and elemental spells in deadly harmony—even her superior physique was pushed to its breaking point.
Her fur was singed, her breath ragged, and blood streaked freely down her sides, soaking the dust-caked arena floor.
But still, she refused to yield.
When she was finally cornered, from her storage ring, she yanked a cluster of shimmering vials, their contents glowing faintly with golden light. Without hesitation, she hurled them at the advancing undead.
CRACK—SSSSSSHHHH!!
