BOOM!
Flesh burst apart, spraying bone and blood across the battlefield.
The ground was red with blood. At the center of it all, a figure stood, keeling slightly as he breathed heavily.
He didn't know how many E-rank beings he had killed, but one thing was certain. He couldn't keep this up for long. Greyson mused as his face grew paler, spitting out another mouthful of blood.
One E-rank was manageable, but combined, they put a little strain on his already weak body, and as time passed on, it stacked up considerably.
And as if to press on that point, a voice echoed from the distance.
"Give up already, Greyson. You're outmatched," Orros muttered as his jaws clamped tightly.
The number of his forces that had fallen under the figure were getting out of hand. If it were another invasion, he would have already called quits and cut his losses.
A clan wasn't defined solely by its patriarch, but also the forces beneath it. Forces that were rapidly diminishing!
