Pervoick knew it was too late to maintain their cover. More than a dozen students trained in the stealth arts descended upon the nest. The bears immediately looked up, then rose to their feet—grumbling, cranky, foam dripping from their jaws.

  A group of men positioned themselves in front of two bears, conjuring clay shields nearly four feet in diameter. They used the barriers for cover as the bears lunged, clawing at the earthen defenses. Through the clay, the students struck with aura-enhanced stabs of their swords, piercing into the bears. Toxic blood sprayed out like a punctured waterskin, but the clay walls spared the Stearna from its acid burn.

  The blades were withdrawn and shaken dry. The blood bubbled as it ate through the metal, but the swords had not yet crumbled.

  Those wielding clay shields leapt forward, pinning bears down before pulling out knives and executing swift, rehearsed killing strikes.

  Their precision earned them two kills in just ten seconds—and it had only taken a handful of them. The rest of the team continued rushing toward the nest’s core.

  Mid-sprint, Pervoick vaulted over a charging bear, slashing at its eyes with an underhanded swipe of both knives before landing and pressing forward. He conjured parchment to wipe his blades clean and discarded the stained rag in the same motion.

  As two more bears barreled toward him, he dropped his hand to the earth. From the ground rose two spears of clay, impaling the oncoming threats. He didn’t pause—his focus was still the Queen, who hadn’t even bothered to rise.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced just above his left ankle. He slashed wildly behind him without looking. Rising from the strike, hair falling from Pervoick’s erratic blows, stood a bear with blood-stained claws—and two more behind it.

  He made a desperate choice. A lasso of parchment shot from his hand and wrapped around the bears’ heads. He pulled tight—but they broke free with ease. Regret struck him the moment the plan failed, but it was already too late.

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  The bears recoiled from sudden pain, clawing at their backs. A pair of knives flew in—one missed, stabbing into the mud beside Pervoick. Meir and Kacur descended like vultures, slashing without hesitation. Despite the spraying toxins, a few precise cuts to the neck brought the beasts down. Pride lit their faces.

  “Keep going, Captain!” Meir shouted.

  Kacur scratched at his arm in irritation. “This stuff stings like hell.”

  Plumb cut down a few enemies at a distance and slid beside his captain.

  “Sir, allow me to assist in the assault on the Queen!”

  “Try to bind it!” Pervoick replied. “That’ll help.”

  Around them, students fought their own battles. Many tried binding bears like Pervoick had, with mixed results. Others laid jagged clay traps underfoot to injure the creatures as they moved, though the bears barely noticed.

  Cub—Host’s brother—shared their recklessness. Fighting barehanded, his aura-enhanced punches didn’t pierce skin, which worked to his advantage: his blunt force caused internal damage without releasing toxic blood.

  He leapt onto one bear’s back, locked its head between his thighs, and pummeled it until its balance faltered. Another bear lunged to help—but Cub spotted it, grabbed the beast mid-air, and flipped it over his shoulder with a burst of aura-powered strength, hurling it toward Kacur.

  Kacur jumped back in surprise as the bear thrashed on the ground, trying to sit up. With little time to react, he pulled a wooden staff from his back, scraped it along the ground, and molded a hammer of clay around it. With a wide swing, he bashed the weapon into the bear’s skull.

  “Meir, Kacur,” Pervoick ordered, “watch our backs. Plumb and I will rush the Queen.”

  They nodded. Meir and Kacur followed, then turned to guard the rear as Pervoick and Plumb approached the Queen’s nest of rotting twigs.

  Plumb struck first, launching loops of parchment to bind the Queen. Pervoick summoned a clay spear, thrusting it up beside her. The Queen jolted awake, roaring to the sky.

  Now upright and beautifully bound in Plumb’s wrappings, she was vulnerable. Pervoick lunged, driving his blade forward in a flurry of precise thrusts into her stomach—like a tattoo needle.

  As the Queen shrieked, Plumb pulled the parchment tighter, trying to prevent her blood from spilling.

  Pervoick stepped back, channeling all his aura into one massive, finishing strike—

  —but the Queen wrenched at her restraints, using her full weight to drag Plumb off his feet. She burst free in a frenzy.

  Pervoick raised his arms, just in time, as her claws came swinging down. Blood flew up from newly teared skin. Pervoick felt the pain swell up in an instant, unable to flinch in pain as the Queen continued a vicious assault.