The ground still trembled from the Rift's pulse — a rhythmic thrum. Every wave of distortion spat out more Void Creatures: eyeless, gaunt figures with limbs too long for their bodies. Behind them, towering over the rest, loomed the Prime-tier monsters — their flesh slick and dark, arms ending in spear-like protrusions that gleamed under the faint blue light.
Trafalgar clicked his tongue, the obsidian armor humming faintly around him. "There's more of them than before."
Sylven drew his bowstring tight, the golden thread glowing against the dim forest light. "Three Prime-tier… maybe four. This will get messy."
Before Trafalgar could respond, a low growl rumbled beside him. Garrika's breathing had changed — slow, heavy, primal. Her nails dug into the ground, claws elongating, her frame trembling as bones cracked and reshaped. Her skin shimmered, sprouting a dark pelt that rippled like fur caught in wind.
"Garrika—" Sylven began, but it was too late.
