"I'm ordering you… Stay still, freeze!"
John's voice boomed across the area inside the northern ramparts. Just as he had seen on the map, the eleven Bulltors were in the throes of a violent, hallucinatory rage. They were madly attacking the silver-alloy walls, their massive fists and heavy weapons slamming into the fortifications with a rhythm that sounded like a funeral drum.
Luckily, in their distorted mental state, they completely ignored the towers and cannons. Their rage was focused solely on the prison bars they perceived in the walls.
Lanmar was at the forefront, leading the charge with a delirious fervour, while Reody stood slightly back in a corner, shouting out instructions as if he were directing a grand siege. The entire group was utterly immersed in their own private worlds.
