The barrier shuddered again.
Light along its surface wavered, no longer flowing smoothly. Sections dimmed, then flared in uneven pulses as if the spell itself was struggling to breathe. But, at the same time…
The battle below was no longer a total rout for the Ravenshade defenders.
Undead lines that had surged through the outer districts were slowing, their advance breaking into uneven pockets of resistance. Streets that had been choked with panic now held some structure again. Barricades were being rebuilt from rubble. Signal flares burned steady instead of frantic.
More importantly, the pressure on the settlement's defenders was easing.
Mages were being pulled free from emergency triage one by one. Some staggered, some were carried, but they were alive and casting again. Their focus shifted outward. Threads of mana fed back into the barrier, reinforcing weak points, smoothing fractures before they could spread.
On the walls, engineers adjusted angles and recalibrated. Counterfire began to answer not just the undead but the besiegers as well. This was not enough to turn the tide, but it was enough to slow it greatly.
If this continued, the settlement would hold for long minutes.
If it held long enough, the undead would bleed momentum. Losses would stack. mand cohesion would thin. The next march would begin weaker than planned.
Above it all, Quinlan lifted his gaze.
One by one, his eyes met those of the women around him.
Seraphiel's lips curved upward, sharp and eager. Raika rolled her shoulders once, the motion loose and predatory. Ayame adjusted her grip on her blade, posture settling into lethal calm. Iris straightened. Orianna's fingers flexed. Vex tilted her head and grinned.
No one spoke.
They did not need to.
One by one, all of them nodded at Quinlan, already aware of what was going on.
A grin spread across Quinlan's face, matching his Hexwitch's, slow and unrestrained, and he closed his eyes.
The wind responded to his call immediately.
It shifted, no longer a single steady current but dozens of precise streams branching outward from him. Aurora's conjured shield around them thinned, stretched, then dismantled as each figure was carried away on controlled flows of air.
Serika rose higher, placed far to the east. Black Fang was sent south, isolated enough to let her cut loose without restraint. Raika took a position along the inner arc with her fist already angled downward. Ayame and Orianna were spaced wide apart on opposite flanks, each given clear lines where nothing friendly would cross their paths.
On the other hand, ladies who lacked the brutal, destructive powers of the aforementioned ladies were grouped closer together, such as Lucille, Blossom, Ria, Lyra, and Iris.
These ladies were carried into overlapping positions. Their distances were tight, close enough that their strikes could layer without risk. They formed clusters of pressure rather than single points of destruction.
Each woman steadied herself midair as the wind settled beneath her boots.
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