Edmund's War Camp
The night sky lit up with a shower of blazing explosions.
Another part of the mage formation was destroyed.
Screams filled the battlefield as fire rained down from above. Dozens of tents, carts, and command posts burst into bursts of mana and flames. Black smoke curled into the air as the scorched earth trembled under the relentless assault.
Edmund sat at the center of it all on his obsidian throne, his cloak billowing in the burning wind. His dark aura flared wildly, the pressure radiating like a storm about to burst.
The elite mages who were supposed to attack the Armand Border Wall were now falling one after another, their bodies scattered across the war camp like broken twigs. Panic spread quickly. The chaos threatened to overwhelm the formation.
Gritting his teeth, Edmund growled softly.
"These... pests—!"
His eyes snapped upward.
