Helping the team

Erik's muscles coiled, every nerve in his body ready for the burst of speed that would propel him into the fray. His mind was clear, focused solely on the fallen warrior amid the impending electric onslaught. The world narrowed to him and the monstrous Ma Cofs, preparing to strike.

As he exploded into motion, time seemed to slow. The whisper of his flyssa unsheathing was a sharp note of deadly intent amid the battle. Erik moved like a ghost, a blur amid the chaos. Among the Ma Cofs, he was a whirlwind of death.

His flyssa flashed through the air in a deadly arc. One Ma Cof fell, then another, their bodies collapsing to the ground almost before they could react.

Erik was a tornado of strength and accuracy; his movements were refined through countless battles. Each swing of his weapon was lethal; each step was calculated, and each breath was controlled. His rhythm was relentless: strike, move, strike, ten times in a row.