Further back stood the generals, the rank 9 titans who answered only to the human emperor.
Their presence twisted the air into silent storms. They were legends given shape, rarely seen outside the darkest hours.
Today, all of them were here.
The elves had formed their own formation to the east, a long sea of silver armor and glowing sigils. Their divine archers held bows that hummed with living mana, each shot ready to fracture space itself.
The beast clans had taken the western ridge, a forest of towering figures draped in thick fur and armor of bone and obsidian.
Their roars rolled like distant thunder.
And then there were the Ninety-Eight Champions, standing apart from the armies with hard expressions.
Without Malachi and Nikko among them, they didn't carry the full weight they originally would have, but they were still wild cards strong enough to change the course of a war.
Their battle aura made the ground shiver.
