Lind's claws cleaved yet another 5 Fiends into nothing. They burst into emerald flames as they were destroyed. Such astounding 1v5 results would normally be lauded as stunning, but after over a century, he felt only tired.
It is one thing to grasp the numbers of armies, supplies, and logistics but when the clash gets down to battle, it becomes a timeless nightmare.
Blood caked the soil, trees, or anything that could not escape in time. While he was hardly injured physically, his dantian and mind were running on fumes.
He was far from the only one. The initial success of his Divine Authority weapons had made it seem like the war was only going to be about reaching the bridge, destroying it, and wiping out the Fiends.
He too, had been too optimistic when it came to the average Fiend. He had forgotten the tenacious and attrition-like style they could employ to exhaust their enemies. Losses meant nothing to them but lost time.
