Hughes nodded without a word and began intoning the prayer for contact healing.
A gentle white light glowed in his palm, covering the terrifying wound across Greck's waist.
The torn flesh visibly wriggled and knitted itself together. Greck's bloodless face regained a hint of color, but his gaze remained fixed on the front lines, still full of shock.
At the front of the battlefield.
Under Logan's ghostly backstab and Bruce's fiery claw strike, two Gnolls had already crumpled to the ground.
Of the two remaining, one had also had an arm broken by Healy and could only snarl and swipe its claws with its one good arm.
Yet no one dared relax.
The thick smell of blood seemed to hang in the air.
Everyone's eyes turned, as if by instinct, toward the towering figure—the Gnoll leader.
It showed no sign of panic at the loss of its subordinates.
Only its earlier mocking expression had vanished.
In its place was the focused stare of a predator assessing its prey.
Its dark red eyes shifted from side to side.
"Clang!"
The long-handled blade knocked aside Healy's War Hammer as she tried to seize the initiative. The clash briefly lit up its clawed hand, covered in coarse, bristly fur.
Its left claw, gripping the weapon from behind, drew back slightly as its right hand twisted the haft.
The heavy blade shifted by a fraction in the air, reflecting the gray-white light of the overcast sky.
It stepped forward, its heavy foot landing without a sound.
A diagonal slash!
The blade flashed like a gray-white streak, straight for Healy's throat!
"Snap!"
A faint but crisp crack rang out.
The fine chain around Healy's neck snapped.
The faith-bearing medallion bounced up once, then fell helplessly.
Above the falling holy symbol,
the blade's cold edge followed