The moment the spear of crimson star-iron materialized in Kale's hand, the battlefield forgot what mercy even meant.
No grand speech.
No dramatic pause.
No slow, cinematic walk.
He simply moved.
A thousand meters away, an A-rank Stormrend commander's head vanished in a red mist before the man even registered the motion. His body stayed upright for half a heartbeat, then folded like wet paper.
Kale was already somewhere else.
|Crimson Tide Dominion|
Fifty thousand kilometers of sky turned the color of an open wound. Every droplet of moisture in the air, every bead of sweat on a soldier's brow, every lungful of breath... all of it transmuted instantly into living blood-mist that answered only to him. The mist condensed into ten thousand crimson spears that hung above the battlefield like a forest of hanging corpses.
Then they fell.
SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRIP!
