Although they wished to fight back directly, reality forced them to lower their heads.
Mercenaries are not death soldiers; they cannot advance knowing they will die, especially since the other side is not after their lives right now.
Kalanis watched the crowd rushing forward and sighed slowly.
"Why are there always so many foolish people in the world... I let the rest of the Mercenary Corps leave because this path was their choice... Regardless of the present, they once fought alongside me."
"The future's honor or disgrace may no longer be shared, but the past glory once shone upon us, my comrades."
"But you all... what are you?"
As her words fell, the ten 12th-level Warriors from the Faceless Hermitage could only see a dazzling, icy blade arc across the sky.
Before they could react, they felt a sharp pain in their throats, and a strong scent of blood filled their nostrils.
The next moment, darkness suddenly enveloped their vision.
