The dwarven leader gritted his teeth, eyes still locked on the burning battlefield below.
His soldiers waited for an order, nervous, shaken by what they had just witnessed.
"What should we do, leader!? Are we going to attack them now? Both sides!?" one asked, panic creeping into his voice.
The leader didn't turn his head. He just stared down at the carnage, at the 20,000 puppet knights still unmoving. At the black-armored commander in the oni mask who hadn't lifted a single finger to fight, yet had already shattered the will of an army six times his size.
"Are you crazy?" the leader finally said, his tone cold. "Those 120,000 halflings are scrambling just to fight back... and he....he hasn't even moved his army yet."
He exhaled through his nose.
"And those things in the sky... that kind of precision? That kind of firepower?"
He shook his head slowly.
"No. We don't attack. We hold position."
"But—!"
