The war banners of Amazarak fluttered wildly in the wind.
Just beyond the ridge overlooking the Halfling Kingdom's border, an army of 50,000 Amazarak soldiers stood in formation. Their armor clanked, their mana blades glowed, and war drums pounded in the distance.
Smoke still rose faintly from the ruins of a town taken just days ago during Kenjirou's brutal attack with his original vanguard unit of 5,000.
Now reinforced. Now bloodthirsty.
At the front, standing on a jagged rock like a dark general of destruction, was the man who led the slaughter—
Kenjirou, the twisted "Hero," surrounded by the dark aura of his Celestial.
His black cloak billowed behind him, and a divine sword rested on his shoulder. His eyes glowed a faint red, and he wore a feral grin.
"Alright!" he shouted, his voice booming across the ranks.
"Today's the day we crush the next town!"
He raised his left arm, the cursed blessing pulsing beneath his skin.
