Max dragged himself up the mountain, void energy bursting beneath him like a savage propelling force, throwing his body ten meters upward with every jump. The climb did not last long. Reaching the summit, he looked ahead, and the sight waiting for him forced a cold breath into his lungs.
"Shit... that's terrifying..." An awkward laugh slipped out of him. What stretched across the sky was not an army. It looked like the end of the world.
A massive tide of dragons was advancing from afar, swallowing the heavens in its shadow. For a moment, even Max could not help it. Fear gripped him. No matter how much faith he had in his own abilities, that many enemies rushing for him alone was enough to freeze anyone's blood.
But he could not let Rosalia die because of Henry's incompetence, because of that old man's arrogant choice to remain here instead of escaping.
