The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of iron and agony. The air above the southern gate had grown thick with a greasy, black smoke that smelled of charred meat and ozone.
While the city's elite soul evolvers fought in desperate clusters, trying to match the sheer physical brutality of the orcs with their flickering mana, Egon moved through the slaughter with a terrifying, rhythmic calm.
He stayed close to Vienna. She was pale, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she clutched the focus crystal he had given her. This was no longer a business meeting or a tea party in a manicured garden. This was the raw, unadulterated reality of the world Egon now inhabited.
"Vienna, move your feet. Do not plant them like a tree," Egon advised, his voice slicing through the roar of a nearby explosion. "If you stay still, you are a target. If you move, you are a predator."
"I... I'm trying," Vienna gasped, her breath hitching as she gestured toward a charging orc.
