Pyro didn't slam into the ground the way Don and Charles had earlier.
At the last instant before impact, he twisted.
Hard.
Flame sheared outward as he tore through the air in a vicious arc, redirecting his entire descent sideways—straight at the creature.
The heat spike rolled across the chamber, stone cracking under the sudden pressure.
The creature's head snapped toward him.
The little girl's face—still streaked with tears and blood—went wide. Fear flashed across it, raw and unfiltered. It jerked its gaze back and forth—Pyro, then Don—
Too late.
Don was already there.
He'd closed the distance in a blur and leapt, body coiling as he rose, fist drawn back overhead. The creature reacted on instinct, four arms snapping up to guard while the remaining two lashed out in wild counterstrikes.
Don didn't dodge.
Didn't pull.
Just before his fist came down, he released it.
A concussive blast detonated from his knuckles—BOOOOM~—air tearing apart in a violent ring.
