The Ember Claw soldiers shift without another word.
Armor scrapes. Shields raise. Bloodied warriors fall in around Alix, forming the shape he called for. Tight diamond—front rank shield-bearers, rear and flanks covered by mages and ranged units, middle packed with flexible fighters.
Alix steps into the heart of the formation, his voice calm but firm.
"Front line—brace and absorb. Rear line—target high-value casters. Anyone straying out of formation dies. We move as one."
A blast of green fire slams against their left side—an Astram caster unleashing chainfire bolts. Shields strain, but hold. The formation sways but doesn't break.
"Suppress the caster!" Alix calls out. "Second row, three o'clock!"
Three Ember Claw mages raise their staves as one.
A coordinated volley of lightning and fire arcs over the front line, slamming into the Astram mage just as he begins casting again.
The spell dies in his throat as his chest explodes in flame.
He didn't even have time to scream.
