Chapter 389: Setting fire to the air
Freya and the Shadowstrike Legion’s progress through the Leviathan swarm was relentless. Their assault on the more powerful units kept the Leviathans occupied, sparing the Turkin riders from an attack on their backs as they tore through the swarm’s flanks. With each charge and strike, the Shadowstrike Legion halted the Leviathan’s advance, driving deeper into the horde and holding the line with remarkable resilience.
Meanwhile, the Golden Wave Legion held the position a few hundred meters behind the Shadowstrike Legion, waiting with controlled anticipation. The seven thousand-strong force, clad in radiant golden armor, was a formidable sight as they prepared to unleash their energy at any moment. They followed Grand Marshal Anglius, who kept a watchful eye on the battle. His gaze darted between the left and right flanks, ensuring that Viserin and the Turkin riders maintained their sweeping movements across the swarm of drones, dismantling them with precision before they could reform.
Grand Marshal Anglius’s attention turned to Freya, who was leading the Shadowstrike Legion deeper into the Leviathan horde. Their skill and ferocity took down thousands of Leviathans each minute, a testament to their strength and efficiency. But the further they advanced, the greater the danger they faced. If the Leviathans managed to surround them, only those with Level 10 or higher strength would have any chance of survival.
Anglius’s blood burned with the desire to join the fight alongside Freya and the Bloodline Soldiers, clashing against the Leviathan warriors. Yet he knew his duty was to hold back, to keep the Golden Wave Legion in reserve until the moment when their strength would make the most impact. They waited, eyes fixed on the unfolding battle and ready to act.
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Freya herself was beginning to feel the toll of battle. Her stamina was immense, her vitality bordering on the supernatural, but she was fighting with such intensity that even taking a breath felt like a strain. Her muscles burned, and a sheen of sweat covered her face. She glanced at her comrades in the Bloodline Soldiers and the rest of the Shadowstrike Legion, who shared her exhaustion. Although they continued to strike with overwhelming ferocity, hurling spells and slicing through Leviathans left and right, signs of fatigue were setting in. They were drenched in sweat, and the lack of oxygen began to show in their labored breaths and pale faces.
In any other battlefield, both sides would share the burden of exhaustion. But here, their enemies were Leviathans—creatures with no concept of fatigue or restraint. When they were drained of energy, they simply resorted to kamikaze tactics, drawing on every last reserve of strength to inflict as much damage as possible, even at the cost of their own lives. To the hive mind, these drones were expendable, mere pawns in a vast, unending game of strategy.