Scatter," Raven commanded, stepping forward. "Now."
The team broke formation without hesitation—Root-Soul to the rear left, Seneschal drifting to center, Duskrunner darting to the edge.
Ostreva raised her arms slowly, vines coiling from the sleeves like living tendrils.
Raven calculated fast.
Regal Bloom was down—for now. That left her two other tools.
Scent of Trespass—brutal in the wrong hands. After five seconds, the marked target erupted in a poison nova, infecting anyone nearby. Lethal if the team stayed too close.
Crimson Thornlash—still dangerous, but focused. A single-target bleed, heavy damage, but manageable. One member could tank it while others repositioned or countered.
If he had to choose between a team wipe and a flesh wound, the choice was obvious.
Raven's mind ran cold. This wasn't just combat anymore—it was study. She watched everything. Every formation shift, every pause between spells, every recoil in response to her attacks. And she adapted. Fast.
