On the battlefield, the fallen were consumed in their entirety by the Blood Clan. Every drop of blood taken in made their twisted bodies swell, their power spiking to new, grotesque heights. Within minutes, the defenders of the Forgotten City found themselves faltering, struggling to hold the line against the onslaught.
At first, the defenders had the advantage. Their ranks boasted several Saint-level warriors, while the Blood Clan seemed to field only War God-rank fighters. But just as they prepared to push forward into the heart of the battle, a thunderous roar erupted from the blood-red array that clawed into the heavens.
From within it, more than a dozen Saint-rank Blood Clan surged out, their feral eyes locking onto the city's elite defenders.
Ethan froze for an instant, his stomach dropping. What was this? The readings Shatterstar had just relayed back had reported only three Saint-rank powerhouses inside the array. How in the hell had their numbers multiplied like this?
