Darin's warhammer slammed into the frozen earth, sending spiderweb cracks through the frostbitten ground. The mana flare burned around his shoulders in a vibrant halo, and the force of his presence alone sent several chicken-men fleeing back the way they came while being chased by darins men for capturing.
But the Cyclops?
It didn't flinch.
Its large yellowish eyeball didn't even blink.
Its single molten eye locked onto Darin and narrowed slightly, like a person staring at a puzzle they hadn't yet decided to smash.
And then the Overlord spoke in his head.
"Wait, you dumb fool."
Darin's hand paused mid-swing.
"That thing is Stage Four. You're barely scratching Stage Two in terms of physical mana output. If you hit it again, your hammer might just bounce off and break your nose on the rebound."
"Good to know," Darin muttered through clenched teeth.
