So she did something Malachar could not predict.
Deep in the Panzer Paladin’s dormant core, Flint processed that reply. Then, quietly, he began to dream of new weapons.
She looked past him. The Black Phalanx was already crumbling without his signal. Demons stumbled, froze, collapsed into heaps of inert alloy. On the horizon, the first true dawn in weeks bled over the mountains.
"There will always be a next time."
She hurled the dissolving greatsword into a third demon, pinning it to a rock face. The blade shattered into luminous fragments. Without pausing, the Paladin stomped forward and wrenched a war-pike from a fresh corpse. "Gloom Lance, class-B. Leech property. Interesting."
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