Bloodscript: Survival Game of the Reborn
Others snapped into new configurations, creating ramps and teetering see‑saws that rocked with every shift of weight.
I felt the world under my boots like a living thing.
“Balance game now,” I said. “Use the movement.”
“Copy,” Corvin said.
The third wave came as a combination.
Ground and air, together.
Bulkier creatures hauled themselves out of trapdoors—hulking, four‑legged things with armored hides, and too many eyes. Above, smaller, faster flyers darted in erratic patterns, ready to strike at anyone who overcommitted to a swing at the tanks.