"KILL!"
Marcus swung without the slightest hesitation, his blade cutting through the last remnants of resistance. The dozen or so remaining Savage Wolf players had already lost their will to fight, their earlier arrogance reduced to panic and desperation. Their cries rang out, scattered and pitiful, but not a single one managed to escape. Not a single one survived.
In the span of a few moments, the Savage Wolves who had marched in with confidence, intent on clearing the zone, killing anyone in their way, and monopolizing the White Rats, were now nothing more than a heap of corpses sprawled across the ground. Fifty so-called elites, reduced to a tangled mess of bodies. The contrast was almost artistic in a grim, satisfying way.
"Trash."
