The competitive tension continued to thicken, tightening like a drawn bowstring, even as the spawns refused to grant them a moment's reprieve.
The forest floor was a chaotic swirl of shifting bark and lunging predators.
"As much as this would be a good warm-up, we shouldn't let them exhaust themselves here," Albert said in a low voice to Gremit, his eyes constantly analyzing the shifting frontline.
"We need to station enough people to anchor the spawns while we forge ahead."
He looked back toward the labyrinth they had just traversed.
Not everyone had arrived; the treacherous terrain of the Root Zone had significantly slowed the column.
Many incarnations had been caught by the hidden Venom Spitters, their numbers thinning far more than Albert had anticipated.
Albert held the data sheets close to his face, scanning the remaining strength of the expedition.
