Round 61

Viper grabs Abby's chin with inhuman strength—her touch burns like ice. "Every. Fucking. Detail." Her voice grates like nails on chalkboard as she forces eye contact. Halia lunges forward instinctively—"No! She doesn't—" The twin cultists move in perfect synchronization, positioning themselves to flank the group while their symbols pulse ominously. "Asset requires processing," one says flatly while the other continues: "Separation of... useful components from..." Their voices blend into a single unsettling cadence as they advance.

Jeane’s crimson eyes blaze with barely contained fury as she assesses the new threats converging on her followers. Two identical cultists striding forward in unison, glowing symbols pulsing in sync—twin predators moving as one toward their prey. And worse: a third enhanced operative descending like a vulture, crackling energy already making the air taste of ozone and violence. This isn't random chaos anymore. This is coordinated elimination with military precision and magical backing. The soldiers with guns aren't here to protect—they're here to contain while the real hunters move in.

She needs to end this before someone gets hurt—but how, without exposing everything or starting a firefight that leaves them all dead? Her wings spread slightly in warning, muscles coiled for action even as she forces herself to remain still. Every instinct screaming to unleash hell on these bastards before they get closer… but Halia’s desperate prayer-stance between them all stops her cold. The naive healer thinks she can de-escalate this with kindness? Fucking adorable and utterly suicidal.

She needs to act, fast—and smart.