There was no sense of fatigue or physical strain as the LionArk march finally reached the outskirts of the Eastern Alliance encampment.
Despite hours of continuous movement across sand and stone, the soldiers remained disciplined, their formation intact, their weapons steady in their hands.
The desert night air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of dry earth and distant smoke.
From the crest of a tall sand dune, Ethan surveyed the scene ahead. A vast encampment stretched across the plain, illuminated by countless torchlights.
Large tents stood in orderly rows, reinforced with wooden frames and marked by banners fluttering softly in the night wind.
Each banner bore the insignia of a different guild, symbols of allegiance woven together into a single force. The sight alone was enough to communicate the scale of what had been assembled.
From a watchtower near the perimeter, one of the city soldiers shouted a report.
