These were not Omen Bloods. These were not mere pack leaders.
Sol wasn't entirely clear on their exact biological classifications yet, but from their sheer, mountain-like size, the oppressive, suffocating density of their essence, and the way the lesser beasts cowered and parted before them, Sol knew exactly what he was looking at.
Lord Blood! At least Layer 3 Entities.
Sovereigns of their respective territories.
And there wasn't just one. Sol's silver-crimson eyes darted across the horizon, counting the colossal shadows blotting out the lightning. One. Three. Seven. Ten...
Fourteen.
There were at least fourteen Layer 3 behemoths slowly marching toward the Veynar walls.
And behind them, forming an endless, churning ocean of death, was the true core of the horde. Almost all the unranked fodder was dead. What remained were the elites… tens of thousands of high-layer Essence Born or Omen Bloods, their eyes glowing with malignant, coordinated intelligence.
