Dopey didn't care about their shock. He swung again, his fist crashing toward the next Mightkin.
At the same time, Aeralon and Aerisara moved the instant they hit the field—both of them lifting a hand and dropping two massive cyclones.
The roaring winds swallowed more than a hundred Mightkin warriors in a blink.
Aeralon's cyclone was pure slaughter. It tore through the trapped Mightkin and shredded them into pieces.
But Aerisara's cyclone was different. It only killed some of the lower-tier ones. Anyone above Tier 27 came out riddled with countless cuts—blood everywhere—but still alive.
"So tough?" Ethan muttered, genuinely thrown.
Aerisara was on par with Tier 30. And she still couldn't rip apart Tier 27 Mightkin.
That alone told him these "dwarves" weren't just strong—they were built wrong.
But the ones even more shaken were the Mightkin elites. They stared at the two soulless thralls like they'd seen a ghost.
"Stage S…" the leader choked out, face drained of color.
