Shia grunted as she forced herself to stand, her muscles aching with every motion. Blood trickled from a gash on her brow, and pain throbbed in her side, but she paid it no mind. Gritting her teeth, she climbed up onto the platform, her boots scraping against the cracked metal, and fixed her burning gaze on the Evolved Nyxaris.
The hulking creature stood eerily still, its grotesque form towering above the battlefield. Its eyes—if they could still be called that—glowed a muted red as it scanned its surroundings, its head twitching unnaturally from side to side. It looked... lost, as if trying to decide who or what to kill next.
Shia narrowed her eyes, studying the monster's posture. Its evolution had amplified its size and strength, but at a cost. The way it moved, the aimless shifting of its head—it had clearly lost much of its higher intelligence in the transformation. That kind of regression could only mean one thing.
