Grieve raised up his thin sword and waved it in the air. His movement was slow, almost too slow for it to do any real damage. Yet, a few moments after he finished his swing, the entire platoon suddenly felt themselves struck with the blade directly in their chests, with necrotic energy suddenly disintegrating their proud Flarecorp chest plates into rust.
"An undead monster?! How are they controlling it?!"
The more and more Arsonny fought with this strange group, the more he realized that their confidence was not just empty bravado. They were the real thing.
The rest of his army charged forward after seeing each platoon get decimated by these single individuals. Even without Arsonny's instructions, they knew that they had to put all of their efforts together if they had any chance of defeating them.
However, their large numbers meant nothing to these people.
Zion's punches broke through space, creating a shockwave of disturbance that destroyed all of their formations.
