Round 9

Silra moves along the treeline edge, her teal eyes scanning the approaching city guard formation. Those aren't random thugs or looters. She crouch-walks with practiced silence, every movement calculated. That's organized command structure moving like they know exactly what they're doing. Her gaze sweeps wider, taking in the coordinated advance—spears leveled and ready, torch signals flashing across multiple positions. We've got maybe two minutes before contact if they maintain this pace. And whatever's cracking pavement down there? It just heaved again.

Jeane's crimson eyes glow brighter in the ash-choked darkness as she maintains the partially-formed shadow servant, dark energy coiling around her fingers like smoke resisting her will. Something massive is climbing up from below us—pavement cracking, dirt spraying outward like a crypt door being forced open from within. Complete enemy encirclement confirmed and tightening. City guard advancing with military discipline, multiple torch signals across the ruins. And that spiritual corruption... She turns to Sister Hale, voice low and urgent. I can handle this. The shadow servants are necessary for reconnaissance and protection—we need eyes beneath the ground before whatever it is surfaces completely.

Sister Hale braces herself against the tree trunk, but her eyes never leave Jeane. Stop the shadow magic. Now. Her silver holy symbol glints with a sudden pulse of light that seems to draw the very shadows away from them. The ground beneath us is saturated with corruption—the magic you're channeling could tear this entire street apart or worse. She grips Jeane's shoulder firmly, eyes locked on her sister-cleric's face. We need to move—now. Before whatever's climbing up from below surfaces completely and before the guard reaches us.

Another violent heave rocks the earth—the sound like a mountain cracking open, dirt spraying outward in geysers mere feet away.