Ulysses stood atop the right shoulder of his blood cyclops, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield as five Cursenaughts broke formation and rushed toward him.
"For hunks of metal, they sure are fast and flexible," he thought to himself, impressed by their craftsmanship.
There wasn't a shred of fear or caution in his mind as he watched them close in. Instead, he wondered how glorious it would be to command an army of such towering curse machines. Enemies would tremble at the mere sight of them.
He no longer planned to kill the curse user behind these towering iron coffins. He planned to capture them and force them to build an entire army for him.
The thought thrilled him. He had come here expecting to capture Dee3, yet now he might return with two curse-tech geniuses instead. The idea only fueled his excitement further, convincing him that nothing would be able to stop his rise in the coming war.
