It was an open battlefield, a vast frozen lava plain stretching beneath the largest mountain on this frozen island. Beneath its towering peak, a massive army had gathered, standing in formation before a floating throne, where Atlas sat, waiting.
This was his chosen battlefield, the place where he would welcome his enemy tonight.
Had they really taken the bait? Had they truly accepted Atlas's provocation and marched all the way here just to answer his challenge?
In an open space like this, escape was nearly impossible. A lord with weak forces foolishly challenging a superior alliance in such a setting? That would be nothing short of suicide.
This was an obvious trap.
But their enemies weren't fools, either. They knew Atlas had used similar tactics against another alliance before. They wouldn't just fall for a simple ambush, right?
And yet, here they were.
