"Slayers from level 9 and above, make your way to the front."
While the fog slowly made its way forward, a voice randomly resounded in the ears of those nearby.
"Hm!! Let's go," the first person to respond was Victoria, for she recognized the voice, and soon others rushed forward from the camp of the three clans and the Blacksteels.
"Sir Guilliman," said Dorn as he exited the fog and looked up at a figure seated atop a direwolf not too far away.
He no longer wore his helmet, revealing pitch-black hair with red highlights dripping from his scalp onto his shoulders. This person was a relatively unknown individual in the grand scheme of things.
In fact, it was not until Vincent began to complain about Guilliman that he—or any of the Blacksteels—had heard his name.
But right now? He had somehow usurped the power and become the de facto leader of the force.
"Two new people broke through to Red, that's good," Guilliman nodded while scanning the groups emerging from the fog.
