Anthony's teammates, Seraphim, Dale, Reynold, Kingsley, Clement, and Spectre, were already engaged on a distant front of the battlefield, each contending with their own chosen adversaries.
The Abandoned Desert of Ruins, vast and desolate, stretched for millions of kilometers, its expanse teeming with countless combatants. Here, there was no shortage of space to clash, nor of enemies to face.
The Forsaken Cult swarmed like an unending colony of ants, their numbers appearing inexhaustible; for every foe struck down, more emerged, flooding the battlefield in endless waves.
From Reynold's back, a pair of magnificent phoenix wings had already unfurled, blazing with otherworldly phoenix flamss as he carved his way through the battlefield with a gleaming rapier in hand.
Each powerful beat of those wings cut against the air, granting him the uncanny ability to alter his trajectory in an instant, shifting direction, adjusting speed, or halting his momentum with effortless ease.
