"ATTACK!" Nyla's voice carried command born from watching her brother consume someone in front of her. "All ranged fighters—suppress him! Melee—coordinate strikes! Don't let him focus on anyone!"
The arena erupted.
Aria moved first, wind gathering around her in visible currents as she launched herself forward. Her long blade extended with compressed air that made the weapon's reach triple, and she struck from an angle designed to force the Monarch to defend or dodge.
He did neither.
His blood-wing intercepted the strike, individual crystalline feathers moving independently to form a shield that caught Aria's enhanced blade and held it. The impact produced a sound like shattering glass, and Aria felt the shock travel up her arms with force that should have dislocated her shoulders.
Before she could disengage, tendrils of blood erupted from the vortex—dozens of them, moving with serpentine precision, wrapping around her legs and pulling.
