Andre's wings contracted, his figure retreated violently, narrowly avoiding each blow.
Yet when those light shadows grazed his scale armor, they still left deep scratches, blood seeped from the wounds, quickly evaporated by the berserk aura.
For the first time, Andre began to retreat.
It wasn't a defeat but a tactical retreat.
He was waiting, waiting for the berserk time to pass.
The power traded from the combustion of his essence wouldn't last long, as long as he held on until the leader's strength was exhausted, it would be his time to counterattack.
The leader seemed to understand this too.
Its assault grew fiercer, each swing of the trident brought up a dark red blade of light, slicing all the surrounding rocks, ponds, and stone houses to pieces.
The two Mechanical Wizards attempted to provide support from the side but were constantly forced back by the berserk aura, unable to approach at all.
Duke lurked underground, watching this scene, his mind racing.
