The blinding white glow in Leon's eyes flickered and lanced out, passing through the six charging beasts in a flash.
However, as the glow vanished, all six creatures continued their lunge.
Then, in one accord, a single, choked roar emitted from them—HHRRROOOO…—before their bodies split cleanly into separate halves.
Ichor blasted into the air, spraying in thick beads that clung to the dust and pooled in a steaming puddle at Leon's feet.
As their sliced bodies collapsed in a heap of twitching chitin and meat, Leon's face reappeared from behind the curtain of gore, gasping sharply like a nearly drowned man.
In his hands, he now held onto two golden daggers, forged from solidified golden light. Their blades shimmered and ripped with stings of ichor.
Slowly, his cold and assessing gaze swept over the remaining creatures as he lifted his head. Leon's lips, stained with his own blood and that of the ichor, curled into a joyless smile.
