The expressions on Warlord Raelith and Warlord Brontagar's faces darkened further, their brows furrowing deeply as their minds raced like lightning, frantically seeking a way to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation. The portals had been sealed, to prevent the Forsaken Cult from stepping through and invading the military base directly.
Until now, Anthony's demeanor had remained composed, almost unnervingly calm. Unlike the Warlords or the Hands, he had not unleashed his aura in any dramatic display. He had no need for theatrics.
"I'll take three of them," Anthony said, his voice low and measured, yet it crashed through the atmosphere like a volcanic eruption, rumbling in the ears of all who heard.
"Major Anth— " Warlord Raelith began, but Anthony's voice cut through his words like a blade.
"This is the only way," he stated, still eerily calm, never once turning to face the Warlords.
