A shout cut through the battlefield's noise. The ceilings vibrated with each impact from the spells, dust drifting from the walls like fine snow.
One of the War Hounds' scouts burst into the war room where Aaron and Judas stood over a map of their base.
"Sir!" The scout gasped. "They're attacking the eastern wall! The Spriggans! They've got summoned creatures by the thousands! We're taking heavy losses!"
Judas didn't move. His eyes flicked to the map, then to Aaron, and back to the scout. "How many are attacking?" he asked.
The scout swallowed. "At least 4000. Maybe more. They're using summoning skills, and they've got some kind of healer keeping them going. Our summons are falling apart, and—"
Judas cut him off with a raised hand. "Casualties?" Of course, Judas didn't refer to the summoned creatures' deaths. He didn't care about them.
The scout hesitated. "250 dead, plus forty wounded. And that's just the first wave."
