From the overview of the sky, a bird noticed a troop of men, some riding on horse back, while others on their bare feet.
Without fail, all of them were weak, battered and bruised. The battle had seen a lot of deaths and had thoroughly worn them out.
"How close are we?!!" At the back of the troop line, a young man with a bald head and blood dripping from the side of his head barked in frustration and pain.
All of them, without fail, They died. These were people he had braved the corridors of the training center with, faced monsters far above their level. Losing them all at once in one battle was heart wrenching.
"Stay alive Quinn, we'll soon arrive!!" Cyrus shouted with panic feeling is brothers limp body squirming around on his back.
Quinn had taken the risk of giving Cyrus sight in the middle of the battle and ended up being fatally wounded. His arm was cut off and his was impaled through the belle causing him to bleed out slowly.
