Commander Halric arrived with a full battalion of Black Legion soldiers. Their armor catching the early morning sun.
The faint golden light gleamed off polished plates, casting sharp reflections across the field.
The soldiers marched in formation. A quiet force of discipline and strength.
Behind Halric came the captains. Veterans who had fought through years of brutal warfare.
Their steps were heavy, purposeful. There was no wasted movement. No panic. Only readiness.
Kyle stood near the edge of the Southern Cliffs, waiting.
He had sent the signal through the crystal minutes ago, just after confirming the Red Legion strike force had been decimated by the explosive runes.
It had worked exactly as planned.
Halric rode forward. The ground crunching beneath his warhorse's hooves.
He stopped beside Kyle, his sharp eyes scanning the cliffs and the fading smoke in the distance. His jaw was set.
