At the edge of the shore, an army stood like a wall against the rising tide.
More than a thousand soldiers had already crossed the wide stretch of sand, their boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The ground trembled faintly beneath their weight.
Everywhere the eye could see, men stood in tight formation, dressed in white vests that gleamed faintly under the dull gray sky. Dark helmets covered their faces, making them look like ghosts of war. They gripped their weapons—sharp spears, gleaming swords, and bows strung tight with arrows ready to fly.
Their stance was rigid. Their eyes, though hidden, burned with the will to fight. Whatever came into their line of sight—they would strike it down without hesitation.
The air hung heavy. A thick mist crawled over the shore, swirling around their legs like creeping hands. And within that mist pulsed a strange force—a gathering storm of Soul Energy that made the skin prickle and the heart pound.
