The ground was filled with blood. Their souls had fallen, their bodies collapsed, but their will still stood.
"I, Belon, will avenge you all," the sword-browed man spoke, his voice deep and full of sorrow.
At this moment, only a few people were still fighting.
Their bodies were already down, yet their will was so strong that it forced them to move. Their legs kicked weakly in the air, their hands flung around, trying to rise—trying to fight.
They wanted to battle. They wanted to protect their people from the Tarens… but alas.
Belon drew his sword as he stepped forward.
The sun cast a long shadow behind him as he faced an army of a thousand men.
Although he was a Grandmaster realm expert, against a thousand men… what could he do?
But Belon still moved. One against a thousand, he marched forward.
"I will kill you. Let the souls of the fallen bear witness to this."
"I will avenge them and kill you, beasts who feast on my people's flesh and drink their blood as wine!"
