One of the squad leaders, dropped his sword and pulled a rag from his satchel. He tied it to the end of his spear and held it high above his head, trembling.
"We surrender!!"
The others followed.
Dozens more threw down their swords, axes, and wands. Some raised their hands. Others fell to their knees, shouting for mercy.
Two of the special operation units had their mana rifles lock on the groups, steady, silent, waiting for any sign of resistance. Fingers hovering near the trigger.
But they didn't fire.
Their targeting lenses scanned the group, identifying the surrender protocol. One of the units raised its fist—a silent signal. The rest of the special ops moved in swiftly, weapons still raised but unfired, forming a perimeter around the disarmed troops.
One by one, the soldiers of the Human Kingdom dropped to their knees, heads lowered, weapons scattered like trash across the trampled earth.
The Armand advance stopped.
No more screaming.
No more resistance.
