"Feral." Tetramis murmured under her breath, dragging her sword free from its sheath creating a metallic shriek as the steel blade rubbed against the metal rim of the sheath.Â Even as the first inch of the steel blade was a mental checklist was completed. Is it hostile? Yes. Can I kill it? Yes. Must it be left alive? No. But the final question stopped her from bounding fifteen meters forward and striking the feral down. Does someone have it handled? Yes.Â<br/><br/>She was faintly aware of more consciousnesses gathering around the gate and noted that the number of Reapers far outnumbered the single Feral at the gates. Bloody hell. What she would not give to behead the humanoid.Â Ferals must die.