A gale of murderous intent swept across the entire battlefield.
The soldiers' shouts were deafening, as if they could tear the very heavens apart. The weapons in their hands glinted coldly, each swing bringing a spray of blood.
The noble lords themselves led the charge, their figures silhouetted against the flames of war, looking exceptionally heroic and fearless.
SQUELCH!
A soldier's longsword plunged into an enemy's chest, but this time, there was no familiar spray of blood. The stabbed enemy showed no sign of pain. Instead, it raised its longsword and thrust back. In an instant, fresh blood splattered as another life was taken.
Over the past day, Kabil, Sandro, and the others had already spread Ronin's intelligence on how to kill the Witch Soul Race. But knowing what to do was one thing; on a real battlefield with so many variables, casualties were inevitable.
