"The only way to end this nightmare is to kill the Necromancer," the commander said.
"Aye, but that's easier said than done. He's in the heart of the horde, heavily guarded by creatures that don't know pain, exhaustion, or fear. Getting to him is like crossing a mountain of swords and a river of flames. Killing him is going to be even harder as he knows all sorts of dark magic," the vice commander said grimly. "Only a silver ranker can accomplish such a grand feat. And there's no one like that here."
The commander was a man in his forties.
His hair was mostly dark with some wild streaks of gray running across his temples.
Fine lines traced the corners of his sharp eyes, his gaze hawk-like, and he sported stubbles, giving him a rugged look.
His square jaw and well-shaped features showed he had likely been a handsome man in his younger years.
