The impact was a sharp, focused detonation, and the golem's leg was torn from its socket.
He was a whirlwind of death, a one-man army carving a path directly towards the enemy commander.
The battle raged for two long, brutal hours.
My forces were overwhelming.
The dwarven defenders, for all their courage and craftsmanship, were being systematically, ruthlessly dismantled.
Finally, only one enemy was left standing.
Sein Akira, the Kin of the Dwarf King.
He stood on his command platform, his powered armor dented and smoking, his massive warhammer held in a white-knuckled grip.
He was surrounded by a mountain of his fallen comrades.
But he was not broken.
"So," he growled, his voice a deep, rumbling sound of pure, unadulterated hatred. "You have come for our forge. You will not have it."
"Actually, I'm here for your boss," I said, stepping out of the shadows. "But I'll settle for you."
"Hold, my Lord!" Saburo's voice, full of a new, strange confidence, cut through the air.
