The Overseer lunged, his spear of jagged black bone whistling through the air toward my chest.
I barely had time to raise Tempest to block, the impact jarring my arms and sending shockwaves through my shoulders.
The force of the strike pushed me back several steps, my boots scraping against the stone floor, and I could feel the dark magic in the weapon pressing against my own mana like a grinding wheel against steel.
Dorian did not wait for an invitation.
He moved in from the side, his massive claymore sweeping in a wide arc aimed at the Overseer's exposed flank.
The creature twisted at the last moment, avoiding the worst of the blow, but Dorian's blade still caught him across the ribs, opening a gash that leaked black smoke instead of blood.
The Overseer hissed and spun, his spear lashing out toward Dorian's throat. Dorian ducked under the strike and drove his shoulder into the creature's chest, pushing him back toward the wall.
