Berserker Mbaku had stood in front of many legions over his life.
This one felt...grand!
He stood at the forward edge of the golden clearing and looked back across it. One hundred Silurian Ragnars occupied the left flank, their formations tight and identical, each face wearing the same brutal expression on the same face, the mass-produced perfection of them both impressive and faintly unsettling even to someone who'd worked alongside them before.
The nine hundred Silurian Ira Gilded Ones behind them moved with the disciplined restlessness of warriors who had been told to wait and were tolerating it. Five hundred Silurian Superbius Gilded Ones held the center, their bearing erect, their Existential Radiation pressing outward through the golden air of the clearing.
The ten Devonian Ragnars stood apart from their Silurian counterparts in the way that things operating at a different tier always stood apart. His own Devonian standing recognized theirs.
