Before Lykos could make the decision to trigger his Synaxis, Wit made the choice for him.
The Demon stepped through the lingering smoke of the explosion, its eyes burning with genuine interest.
"That's really great effort."
Wit admitted, dusting ash off its tattered cloak.
"Barely anyone your age can match you... excellent coordination."
It smiled, further exposing rows of serrated teeth.
"It's truly unfortunate that you'll die today."
The words hung in the superheated air as Wit walked toward them, hands clasped behind its back, exuding a pressure that made the ground crumble around it.
Lykos moved first, knowing that he couldn't let this thing get close to Merlin, not while she was recovering from the recoil.
The crystalline swords at his side hummed and shot forward. He dashed behind them, using the visual noise to flank the Demon and aimed his staff at Wit's blind spot, readying a point-blank [Ice Lance].
It was a perfect pincer maneuver.
