The battlefield exploded completely the moment the advance started.
Steel crashed.
Magic detonated.
Blood splattered across frozen terrain while tanks pushed forward against the PK frontliners trying to break formation. The entire mountain range shook from overlapping skills firing one after another, and somewhere in the middle of all that chaos....
Callian was terrifyingly calm.
Level 51.
Only Level 51.
And yet he controlled the battlefield like he owned it.
"Left flank forward."
"Rotate the rear healers."
"Do not chase."
"Maintain spacing."
Every command came out precise and immediate, and the craziest part was that everyone actually followed it without hesitation. The Zetharians moved like one giant organism now. Smooth. Controlled. Ruthlessly organized.
Meanwhile I was standing there vibrating aggressively because Kaliesha kept staring at me from the cliff like a lunatic waiting for her favorite TV drama to start.
Then Callian turned toward me.
