Vibrations spiked through the air—barely audible to the untrained ear, but lethal to monsters with heightened sensory input. The Larva Dragon reeled, its molten pupils contracting as the low-frequency wave carved through its skull like a bell tolling the end.
The beast screamed—more instinct than intent—and turned violently toward Nioh's ridge.
That was the cue.
Althea launched forward.
"Now!"
Althea kept moving.
Her body was a blur of silver and steam, cutting across the battlefield with an uncanny rhythm. Grace sharpened into violence. The Cryo Breaker blade hummed in her hand, each strike trailing white frost that hissed against the dragon's smoldering hide. She didn't need to win the fight alone. Just hold it. Pressure it. Open something big enough for the others to end it.
The Larva Dragon lunged, maw wide, molten breath gathering in its throat like a storm. Althea ducked beneath the swing of a lava-soaked tail, her boots skidding across the fractured rock.
