Fin stood, steadying himself behind the purple rocks. The fight raged nearby. Hana and Mary darted in and out, their blades leaving shallow cuts on the spider's thick legs.
Gary swung his hammer with tiring predictability, each blow slightly less forceful than the last. Susan held her ground, shield scarred, absorbing heavy hits but being pushed back inch by inch.
Lucas's energy blasts were becoming less frequent, his breathing ragged. Joe's daggers still flew, but his accuracy wavered.
They were losing. The spider, though wounded, was relentless, fueled by primal rage.
Fin watched, his mind clear, the chaotic rush replaced by cold focus. He saw the patterns, the openings they missed, the spider's momentary shifts in balance. He waited, the silver core a steady warmth within him, the other core thrumming quietly beside it, hungry but controlled.
