Nira dashed forward, twin blades in hand. They were a light grey metallic color—seamless blends of elegance and lethality. Each weapon curved with wicked grace, their metal etched with flowing filigree. The hilts were carved with bone-like ridges, designed to fit naturally into Nira's hands—deadly extensions of her will.
The first blade bore the symbol of a crescent moon nestled just beneath the guard. It was inlaid in pale silver, almost glowing against the darker metal, and surrounded by tiny lines that resembled rays of moonlight.
The second blade lacked the moon symbol, but its fuller spine was slightly thicker—meant for parrying and close duels. Its ornamentation mimicked veins or roots, twisting in silent patterns that suggested a coiled predator. There was a single, faint engraving along the hilt. Though twins, the blades were not identical. Together, they reflected Nira herself: grace in movement, death in silence, and bound by the eternal pull of the moon.
She dashed forward, moving toward the dreadful abomination, but before she could strike, the dreadful thing noticed her. It removed its gaze from Varik and immediately launched toward Nira, removing all piles of guts in its wake. It sent its sharp claw toward Nira. She used the twin blades to deflect the attack, but that didn't mean she didn't feel the impact. She was sent flying backward.
The rotten monstrosity was massive—it stood about three meters in height, towering over the average man. It was huge.
Nira was slammed backward into the sewer wall, but that didn't stop her. She hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of her, but she didn't stay down. Gritting her teeth, she pushed off one knee, planting her right foot firmly beneath her. Her body leaned forward slightly, weight balanced, left leg sliding back for support. Shoulders squared, eyes locked on the rotten monstrosity. One breath—then she lunged forward, fast and low, like a spring snapping loose.
She didn't let up. Every attack the rotten bastard made, she dodged and delivered a devastating strike of her own. Even if every strike was shallow, that didn't slow her down. She continued like an unyielding agent of destruction.
Thanks to the momentary distraction of the rotten thing, Varik was able to clear his thoughts. His eyes locked on the monstrosity in front of him. Shield in hand, he threw his greatsword straight toward the eyes of the rotten thing. It slammed into its head, removing a massive portion of it clean off. Its brain was now visible, filled with moving maggots. The creature was halted due to the abrupt removal of part of its brain—if the damn thing even worked.
Nira didn't let the opportunity slide, she ran towards the wall beside her. Using it, she climbed it with her legs moving as fast as she could possibly run. Her feet hit the surface in rapid succession, each step short and sharp as she angled her body slightly forward to stay balanced. The wall was slippery, its surface offering barely enough grip, but her momentum carried her forward. She kicked off higher with each step, muscles coiled tight, eyes locked on her target. At the final stride, she pushed off with explosive force and jumped. She rotated in the sky, increasing her momentum to make the attack even more deadly. She went straight for the neck of the monstrosity below her, sending the twin blades straight into its neck, with the curved, wavy blade—her hand placed on the intricate hilt—she sliced its head clean off like a chef cutting a fish in two.
An easy victory couldn't be said for the Firstborns.
The shadows moved closer. They reached the two positioned at the path's bend where the tunnel curved sharply left and sloped downwards were the first to see the pale white skin of the crawling monstrosities.
Even though that side of the tunnel was said to be the second safest from monster attacks, it seemed Vaelk was wrong.
Five Sunderkin emerged from the darkness.
A single Sunderkin was around four meters long, and there were five of them. The reality was that two Firstborns stood no chance if all five reached them at once. Their only option was to try attacking from a distance.
"We can do it. I just need to fire arrows at them, right, Jae?" the female said.
He hesitated, then answered in a subdued tone,
"Right... we can. We just need to get out of here"
Jae looked at his partner.
She stood with fire in her eyes, her stance sharp with purpose like someone who refused to yield. Her red hair was wild, cut in uneven layers that fell over one eye and flared at the ends. Her eyes, a piercing crimson, burned with raw conviction, wide and alive, as if daring the world to try and break her spirit.
She wore a fitted leather jacket dyed in muted crimson, with pale stitching tracing the shoulders and sleeves like veins beneath the skin. The collar stood slightly upturned, worn at the edges from long use. The jacket hugged her form without restricting movement, clearly tailored with care not for beauty, but for purpose. A faint crest was stamped into the left breast, barely visible unless caught by the light
Her trousers matched the jacket dark, flexible leather, reinforced at the knees with ridged padding, faintly scuffed from wear. Slim, barely noticeable pockets lined the thighs, with thin brass loops along the sides that might once have held small tools or charms. Her boots were mid-cut, scuffed, and heavy-soled—made for walking, running, or fighting without slipping.
She moved, arrow in hand. Despite the armor-like texture of her outfit, there was a strange lightness to her movements.
Jae wore something similar to what Eros worn a close-fitting, shadow-toned tunic etched with delicate motifs. A sturdy leather belt wrapped snugly around his waist, with armored boots on his feet. A sword rested in his hand