But the Ravagers were adapting.
Two phantoms flanked him from opposite sides, attacking in perfect sync. T'zarek tried to dodge, but their claws grazed his shoulder and thigh.
Blood sprayed. He growled, twisted, and slammed his elbow into one's jaw, knocking it off-balance. Before it could recover, he kicked it into the path of the second phantom, and both tumbled to the ground.
A Brute charged him from behind.
T'zarek rolled sideways, dragging a dagger through the Brute's leg as he moved. The beast stumbled—but not enough. Its fist came down like a hammer.
T'zarek raised his arm in time, but the impact still sent him skidding across the cavern floor.
Vek'tal roared as he saw his comrade get hit. He charged through the crowd, shoulder-checking a Ravager so hard its torso twisted in midair. Another leapt onto his back—but he reached up and ripped it off, hurling it into the wall hard enough to leave a crater.
He reached T'zarek just in time to block another blow. A phantom's claws slammed into his forearm, but the armor held. He countered with a vicious punch that sent the creature flying.
"You alright?" he barked.
T'zarek spat blood and grinned. "Never better."
They stood back-to-back now, surrounded. The warleader let out a low, rumbling growl—then charged. Five more Ravagers followed close behind, coordinated this time.
"Left is mine," T'zarek muttered.
"Don't take too long," Vek'tal replied.
T'zarek spun like a cyclone, daggers blazing as he met the first Phantom. Their claws met mid-air—his fangs sliced through the shadow before it could solidify. He ducked under the second's strike and slammed both blades through its knees, twisting until they snapped.
Vek'tal took the Brutes head-on.
The first struck—he caught its arm, twisted, and broke it at the elbow. The second tried to grab him, but he slammed his foot down on its leg, breaking its stance, then drove a straight punch into its chest. The third—he picked up the corpse of the second and threw it like a weapon, knocking both of them down.
But the warleader came through the smoke, claws glowing like molten blades, and slammed into Vek'tal with enough force to knock him back.
He skidded—then grinned. "Oh, you want a fight."
The warleader charged again—this time faster. Its strikes were precise, calculated.
Vek'tal barely blocked the first, then took a glancing blow across the chest that sent sparks flying from his armor. The second blow he met with his own fist—but the impact was like hitting a boulder.
Still, Vek'tal held his ground.
Behind him, T'zarek had finished off the last Phantom, smoke rising from his scorched blades. He turned just in time to see Vek'tal and the warleader locked in a brawl. And grinned. "Guess I'll handle the rest."
Meanwhile, Draeven stood alone in the clearing, staring down the trio of elemental Ravagers—Inferno, Earth, and Storm.
Ordinarily, the three would've launched a coordinated assault by now. But something had changed.
Even from a distance, Draeven could see it in their eyes—the hesitation, the uncertainty. They felt it too. The death of their Alpha had severed more than just a chain of command—it had unraveled their unity.
Normally, this would've been the moment they'd tear into each other, battling for dominance to claim the Alpha's position. As for Venom, he has been missing since the last clash, so he wouldn't even be counted.
But none of them moved.
They weren't fools. They sensed the pressure radiating from Draeven.
He stood with his shoulders relaxed, shovel in hand, like a man ready to dig their graves.
The three Ravagers knew—if they worked together, maybe they could bring him down. Maybe. But it's too risky and the reward is not worth it.
They could betray each other in the middle of the fight, and even if they won, what use being alpha while the whole nest has been ravaged?
Draeven stared back, unimpressed. "What's wrong?" he called out, voice thick with disdain. "Aren't you beasts? We tore your nest to pieces. Burned your kin. And you just stand there, sulking?"
He shifted slightly, shovel dragging against the ground. "Pathetic."
The elemental Ravagers glanced at one another—brief, silent exchanges filled with distrust.
Finally, Storm made his move. Lightning crackled across his limbs, building into a sphere of raw energy above his head. With a crack like thunder, he hurled the orb toward Draeven—then dissolved into electricity, vanishing into the wind.
Draeven squinted. "Coward's" he muttered.
He raised his shovel lazily and swung it toward the attack.
The lightning sphere ricocheted off the flat edge, veering wildly off-course before exploding harmlessly against a rock wall behind him. Draeven eyes widened. The impact had echoed like a home run.
This is not what he expected. He just want to use his living weapon to block the attack, but somehow it could hit the elemental attack.
Before the dust settled, Inferno make his move, flames bursting from his body. He roared, unleashing a jet of fire that engulfed Draeven in seconds. The flames churned violently, swallowing the battlefield in a wave of heat.
But Draeven didn't block. Flames wrapped around him, licking at his flesh—and feeding it.
Ashborn didn't burn. They thrived in fire.
'Bastard!' Draeven cursed inwardly. He want to think calmly what just happened, but than those beast just need to attack him.
He walked through the inferno like a god of war, the heat rolling off him in waves. His molten eyes locked onto the fading shape of Inferno as he disappeared behind a veil of smoke and shadow—along with Earth.
Draeven's grin sharpened. "Running already?"
He closed his eyes, tuning out the fading roar of fire. Reaching deeper. Feeling through the vibrations in the stone.
Then a movement. East.
With a single leap, he soared through the smoke, shovel raised high. As he landed, he drove it straight into the ground.
The earth screamed as jagged stalagmites exploded upward, tearing through the stone in a vicious arc.
Something roared below. Draeven's grin widened. 'Found you.'