Ethan stood atop the citadel wall, gazing down at the 200 soldiers below, gripping spears and shields. Archers and mages lined the walls, their eyes fixed on the advancing enemy.

  On the horizon, a massive army marched forward, growing closer with every passing second.

  Scattered among their ranks were creatures resembling dragons, though their wings were too small to sustain flight.

  Atop each of these beasts rode groups of five, armed with throwing spears and what looked like primitive muskets.

  “Warhorns…” Michael muttered under his breath. Ethan caught the word and frowned.

  “What’s the pn?” Lisa asked, her bck bow in hand, ready to fire.

  “We wait until they’re closer. Then, the few firearms we managed to find will unch the first strike. After that, the archers and mages will unleash everything they have,” Michael expined, reaching into a small pouch at his waist and pulling out a sniper rifle.

  Ethan’s eyes widened.

  “How the hell did you get a TAC-50? And do you even know how to use it?” He asked, already knowing how to handle it himself but unwilling to kill under Reyna’s orders. He still didn’t understand why she had forbidden him from killing humans—or whatever these things were—but he would obey.

  “I know how to use it. Found it in a dungeon inside a gun store,” Michael replied, lying down and taking aim.

  “I’ll try to take out one of the Warhorns. That should make things easier.”

  Ethan gnced at the enemy force. Ten Warhorns loomed among their ranks. They had to be level 100—the event’s imposed limit.

  Thirty seconds passed. A sharp crack rang out as the rifle fired, its recoil dragging Michael nearly two meters across the ground.

  The supersonic bullet tore through the air, striking the leftmost Warhorn in the chin.

  Michael clicked his tongue. “I was aiming for the forehead, but close enough.”

  A piercing, high-pitched screech followed. Blood trickled from Ethan’s ears.

  “Shit,” Lisa muttered.

  The soldiers below colpsed, clutching their heads in agony. But the Warhorn fell lifeless, crushing dozens of troops beneath its weight.

  [Kill Count +70]

  Seventy soldiers had been obliterated in an instant.

  “In three minutes, the archers will fire!” Michael shouted.

  The enemy troops hastily distanced themselves from the remaining Warhorns but continued their march forward.

  Time crawled by in torturous slowness, every second stretching endlessly.

  “Archers and gunners—fire!!” Michael roared after just over four minutes.

  A storm of metal rained down. Arrows and bullets of various sizes and calibers swarmed the battlefield like migrating birds.

  “I’m taking the shot,” Lisa said, closing her eyes in concentration.

  When she opened them, her pupils glowed blue.

  She drew her bowstring and released.

  The arrow soared through the air, splitting into three at its peak. Each fragment shimmered, forming the illusory shapes of blue serpents.

  In the enemy ranks, a group of figures raised their staffs. A golden pilr of light shot into the sky before forming a protective dome around the army.

  The three serpents crashed into the barrier, their tails coiling around it, hammering against its surface.

  Cracks spread. The dome shattered. But the serpents' energy faded with it.

  “What the hell was that, Lisa?” Ethan asked, turning to her. She looked paler than before.

  She simply raised a hand, signaling they’d talk ter.

  The enemy had arrived.