Even then, the Holts kept coming.
Lyrate's body dissolved into a rush of crimson mist, surging forward like a flash of blood-stained wind. The first sword master barely had time to blink before her blade passed through him, splitting his body clean down the middle, from crown to waist.
Before the second could react, a burst of energy shot from her sword, a focused crimson beam. It struck his head with pinpoint precision.
Boom.
His skull exploded in a flash of red and white, fragments scattering as his body crumpled lifeless to the floor.
The mist swirled again as Lyrate reformed, standing calm and silent between the two corpses.
North was panting now. Blood streaked her shoulder. Steve had a shallow gash across his side, but he didn't seem to notice it.
"We're not far from the prison," North said, stepping over the remains of a Holt soldier.
"Yeah," Steve muttered, "but this is too many for just coincidence."
