When they saw that huge mass of figures sprinting over, the fighting in the field paused for the moment.
More than eight thousand Mightkin had charged in.
Now only a little over five thousand remained.
In just that short stretch of time, three thousand had been killed.
Most of them had died to the three soulless thralls. Ethan and the others, combined, hadn't even hit triple digits.
Everyone stared grimly at the Void Realm creatures racing toward them.
And the remaining Mightkin, the moment they recognized who was coming, all had their faces sink.
The newcomers moved fast. In no time, they'd reached the battlefield.
They were the complete opposite of the Mightkin—tall and thin, all sharp angles. Every one of them stood at least six feet, with long, narrow faces and an almost delicate, eerie prettiness to them. There were more than seven thousand.
