The cursed soul lunged.
A blur of red and black streaked forward like a viper. Emil barely had time to react before the blood-forged sword carved a shockwave through the air. He dodged to the side, his coat whipping as the blade ripped through the marble behind him.
"Scatter!" Emil barked.
Riven moved first, vanishing in a blur. His sword met the cursed soul's from behind, steel clashing against blood. Sparks erupted as Riven pushed, his expression cool but focused.
"Tch. Fast," the soul murmured, sliding back with unnatural grace. "But you're not the one I want."
Kael roared and leapt into the fray, fist glowing with aether. "Then take this, freak!"
He swung a punch aimed for the soul's ribs. It landed—with all of Kael's weight behind it—and for a second, there was silence.
Then the soul tilted his head.
Unscathed.
"I suppose every group needs their loud idiot."
