"Stop!"
The shout, trembling and weak, sounded like a desperate thing, echoing through the smog of the battlefield like a final, rattling breath.
Several giants, each standing over fifteen feet tall, stood in front of Shen Haoran.
They were the elite honor guard of the Fire Giant Tribe, their red skin slick with the sweat of battle and the soot of their own dying flames.
They pointed their massive, bone-crushing weapons, sharp and jagged obsidian clubs and rusted iron spears—directly at the lone youth.
However, one can immediately notice their trembling bodies, their grip on their weapons was unsteady, and the massive hafts vibrating against their palms, that these giants were shaking in a rhythmic tremor of pure, unadulterated terror.
Not to mention their eyes weren't staring at Haoran at all, instead they were paralyzed by the sight behind him, at the mountains of corpses and hills of ashes that piled up in his wake.
