From their elevated vantage point, Zephyr and the other godling leaders watched the spectacle unfold. Below them, the ten paragons bolted into the distance, desperate blurs cutting across the terrain, with a massive, swarming wave of hundreds of opportunists hot on their heels.
In the heat of pure terror, an unspoken realization forged a sudden, desperate bond among the hunted. None of them had planned to cooperate; they were rivals who would gladly slit each other's throats for a shot at ascension. But as the net closed around them, they understood a fundamental, grim truth: they only had each other's backs now. If one of them fell to the pack, the remaining nine would be systematically isolated and torn apart next.
