As Ethan and Chris each dropped a Winged Clan expert, the Winged Clan's numbers cratered right out of the gate.
They'd started with sixteen.
In a blink, four were gone.
Only twelve remained.
Their faces turned murderous—not just from anger, but from the sick realization that everything they "knew" was wrong.
The intel they had said the target was weak, propped up by two soulless thralls. One of those thralls had supposedly already been killed, meaning he should've had only one left.
But what they were seeing now didn't match at all.
Not only were there two thralls again, Ethan himself was terrifyingly strong.
Now they were down to twelve. Four were tied up trying to contain Aerisara. The other soulless thrall was a monster—eight of them could barely hold it back. And on top of that, there were two humans who could one-shot them.
What had been an advantage flipped into a losing fight in seconds.
"Retreat," the leader said, decisively. "Go back and report to Lord Aeralon!"
