Verren blade trembled in his hand.
This wasn't just a fight—it was psychological warfare.
Even now, he could feel the aftereffects, like something greasy had been smeared across his mind. Not deep enough to control him—but definitely enough to rattle him.
He didn't even look at the wolf's body.
Didn't want to.
Instead, he turned and sprinted, pushing through the pain, the exhaustion, and the mental haze.
The camp wasn't far. He needed to get back. Regroup.
Fighting while constantly shielding his mind wasn't sustainable.
This wasn't what he trained for.
Battles like these… weren't enjoyable.
Verren clenched his jaw, trying to push the lingering headache away.
It was better to go check on the younger ones.
********
Michael's spear whistled through the air as he twisted his body low, sweeping one monster's legs from under it before driving the butt of the weapon into the second's gut.
