Lysandra reached the enemy base.
The core crystal pulsed in its cradle, undefended. The gates were open. The control points were hers. She walked toward it, rods raised, blood still dripping from her arms. One hit was all she needed.
Baines stepped out of the base entrance.
He'd respawned again. His axe was in both hands, his eyes wild, his chest heaving. Trent stood behind him, lightning flickering weakly between his fingers. He was shaken, his hands trembled, his face was pale, but he was still here. Still fighting.
"You keep matching don't you?" Baines growled. "You don't know when to quit."
"Neither do you," Lysandra said. Her voice was cold. The switch was fully active, but beneath it, the exhaustion pulled at her limbs like weights. The gash on her back screamed with every movement. Her forearm was still bleeding where his blade had opened it. Her shoulder was a knot of fire from the last exchange. Her vision blurred at the edges. She was running on fumes.
