Trap (2)
"What is this?" Long Jingxia's voice trembled, no longer the confident battle cry it once was.
"Venerable Darkness," Gu Bingning replied, her voice a strained whisper. The icy composure she was known for wavered under the relentless assault on their senses. "He's trying to isolate us."
The grotesque figures emerged from the darkness, their metallic bodies gleaming ominously in the dim light. Their movements were a symphony of discordance, a chilling dance of death that sent waves of nausea through the swordswomen.
The first strike came without warning. A claw, dripping with a noxious liquid, tore through the air, narrowly missing Long Jingxia's face. She stumbled back, her sword instinctively swinging in a wide arc, but it met only empty air.
Gu Bingning fared no better. Her frost-imbued blade, usually a weapon of precision, sliced through the shadows, leaving no mark on her unseen assailants.