But as the minutes continued to tick away, the shadow of the mountain barrier began to stretch longer across the parched clay flats.
The sun was slowly moving past its afternoon peak, and the delay was becoming far too long, even for the lazy, arrogant standards of the Marauders.
Reports kept filtering back from the front rows through the scouts… not reports of a breakthrough or a broken gate, but a continuous, suffocating silence from the inside of the chute.
Every single batch of elite warriors they sent into the smoke simply vanished, their energy signatures cutting off instantly like twigs snapping in a dark forest.
The Grand Chieftain of the Gray Marauders slowly stopped chewing his meat.
His eyes narrowed into two dangerous, yellow slits as he stared down the long, empty approach trail leading toward the mountain barrier.
The delay was no longer a simple tight space in the stone.
