"Fuck—why is that thing out here?!" the Winged Clan leader blanched, his face going bloodless.
A Rus Federation survivor threw his head back and cackled, eyes wild. "Hahaha! You're done! Let's see you survive this!"
"You—!" The Winged Clan weren't stupid. It clicked instantly. These humans had lured it out.
"You're dead!"
Rage exploded through them. A Death Tempest bloomed, shredding the nearby humans into minced flesh in an instant.
But while they were killing—
the roc struck from above.
It dove like a falling mountain. Talons flashed, and two Winged Clan experts were ripped apart midair, reduced to meat and feathers.
"Stop!" the Winged Clan leader bellowed. "There's been a misunderstanding!"
The roc didn't even hesitate.
It was already seeing red.
A horrific cyclone slammed downward, and dozens of Winged Clan experts were torn into pieces—sliced apart by the very element their race had always dominated.
Wind-type masters… turned into confetti by wind.
