Six in the morning.
Black Blade Army Vanguard Camp—
The shrill magical alarm swept across the entire camp in an instant, as if a mountain collapsing into a tsunami. The black-armored knights were fully armed, rushing out of the rest area with clinking equipment, heading straight for their mounts.
Flying Dragons were spreading their wings.
Viscount Kuztar Poleman put down his monocular, the southern sky was shrouded in darkness, countless birds weaving between the lightning, creating an apocalyptic scene.
"It's the Druids."
"Southerners have hit rock bottom."
He remained silent, mounted the saddle, and grasped the nearly five-meter-long Dragon Spear with one hand before raising his left hand high. The sound like a mountain and sea cried out as if exploded from the camp:
"Black Blade Legion, First Dragon Cavalry Group—"
"Depart!"
"Depart—!"
