There was a heavy silence. And considering the staggering number of people that gathered, it was significant.
It only goes to show the shock that gripped the army of the world Vortharion.
However, in that silence, Atticus gripped his katana.
Ozeroth brandished his twin hammers.
Thunder crackled across Magnus's form.
Aric swept his broadsword to the side, a savage aura spilling from him.
Zenon's arms morphed into twin blades, expression frigid.
The tension spiked, stretching thin, until a panicked voice suddenly boomed from the skies.
"What the hell are you staring at!? Fucking attack!"
Elesha's roar snapped the army out of their trance. Expressions hardened, arms on weapons tightened, and they looked down towards the group, ready to rain hell once more, only to realize… they were already gone.
Atticus' blade was out of its sheath before anyone even realized. He went for the big ones. The warships.
