"Give us back the parchment!" one cultist bellowed, charging at Cassian with a massive axe. Cassian was already fending off nearly a dozen others, dodging and deflecting their attacks with precision. His body, bloodied from the onslaught, bore countless marks, but his domain's red glow pulsed, knitting his wounds closed.
The fight was grueling—thirty or so cultists, all wielding enchanted gear and armor, made killing them a slog. A couple would've been manageable, but their sheer numbers overwhelmed him. He'd only taken down three at the start, using the element of surprise. Now, he could barely do more than dodge, trying to avoid injuries that would slow his healing or movement.
