The battlefield was littered with carnage, hundreds of massive Zulcans hung impaled on spears and halberds, their grotesque bodies sprawled across the blood-soaked earth in the hundreds.
A lone figure stood calmly atop his horse amid the carnage, Prince Ivan.
He seemed utterly unfazed, his gaze distant, as if merely waiting for something… or someone.
His soldiers occasionally stole uneasy glances at the impaled Zulcans, their expressions caught somewhere between morbid fascination and disbelief.
Gloop... Gloop... Glooop...
The distant sound of hundreds of hooves echoed across the field.
Moments later, Princess Zina appeared, leading her troops.
Her expression darkened the moment her eyes landed on her brother, already standing proudly atop his horse like he had all the time in the world.
She knew he must have heard the news long before she did.
For him to arrive from such a distance ahead of her… it wasn't by coincidence.
Zina frowned as she reached Ivan's position.
