Alex exhaled sharply, a thin mist leaving his lips as the thunder around his blade flickered and dimmed.
As he stopped using the second art, the strain on his hands and his mana reserves was too much to keep the art for a long period.
The furious tide of golden slashes faded. The air, once singing with crackling electricity, fell eerily silent.
But the silence lasted less than a heartbeat.
The Earth army surged again, its formations tightening and adapting, as if the will of Khepri itself coursed through them, which it does.
Thousands of statuesque warriors lunged in unison, an unending tide of spears, blades, and fists.
Alex's eyes narrowed, his body moving before thought.
His katana gleamed—a silver streak cutting through a brown field.
He dashed forward.
One step, two steps, three — each a blur — and his blade cleaved through a stone soldier's chest, shattering it into an explosion of rubble.
