Outside the ruined EXPO entrance, the fight tightened into something almost mechanical.
The smaller monsters came in waves, but they were not the real problem, and everyone knew it. Goblins crawled over broken signage and shattered barricades. Ghouls spilled from side corridors, drawn by blood, noise, and the pressure of the thing moving deeper inside the complex. Crawlers skittered across the cracked plaza on too many limbs, trying to slip under shields and through gaps where a careless fighter might have left space.
There were no careless fighters at the door.
Harith held the center with his shield raised and his mace low, each step heavy enough to anchor the line. When a ghoul threw itself at him, he took the impact on the shield, turned the body sideways, and crushed the skull with one short swing.
"Gravebell."
The iron-blue pulse barely had time to fade before he reset.
