The combat was brutal and efficient. Liam watched as shadow-cloaked zealots moved through the enemy position like smoke given murderous intent.
A battle-priest raised his holy symbol, light flaring—only to have his throat opened by a curved blade that appeared from nowhere. Infantry formed a shield wall, and Fourth Order fighters simply appeared behind it, stabbing upward into gaps in armor with surgical precision.
But the enemy was fighting back hard. As Liam watched, a concentrated volley of blessed arrows caught three Fourth Order soldiers in the open. They went down screaming, holy fire eating through their dark armor like acid.
"Torven's battalion is two minutes out," Commander Koth said, having ridden up beside Liam with several other officers. "But Kael'thra's people are taking casualties faster than expected. That battle-priest on the left is coordinating their defense—he's good."
