Chapter 138: Not While I Still Stand
The vice-captain didn't waste the opening.
"Archers, suppressive fire! Channelers, reinforce the barrier! Combat resonators—with me!"
The gates burst open as a wave of reinforcements surged forward—elite guards and veteran resonators, their weapons gleaming under the pale morning light. Most held the walls, raining arrows and spells down on the horde, while the strongest leaped into the fray, carving through monsters with disciplined efficiency.
The tide was turning.
What had once been a desperate defense now became a brutal counterattack. Over a thousand monsters still thrashed against them, but the coordinated assault of 200 hardened fighters—led by the whirlwind of death in black—pushed them back.
And then—
A ripple in the air.
A green portal tore open beside the predator, more precisely Aman, its edges crackling with unstable energy. From it stepped a silver-haired figure, his face obscured by a sleek, featureless mask. He moved with the same lethal grace as Aman, his presence sending a visible shudder through the nearby monsters just by looking at him.
The two exchanged words—too quiet for anyone else to hear. Aman nodded once, sharply, before the newcomer turned toward the horde.
What followed was carnage perfected.
The silver-haired stranger moved like a storm, his techniques mirroring Aman's but amplified—wider arcs, deeper cuts, a controlled fury that left monsters bisected before they could scream. Aman flanked him, their movements synchronized as if they'd trained together for decades.
Thirty seconds. Fifty more corpses.