Merciless stood firm on the Aether Bridge, his gaze locked on the golden army before him. Around him, Crimson Dawn surged and pulsed, its scarlet radiance coiling outward like a living entity.
The scarlet light spilled through the portal in his cape, flooding back into the Land of Eregore, painting the battlefield in its red hue.
The Glydens—their radiant, golden forms, once indistinguishable from the light itself—were now caught in the tide of his domain. They couldn't hide here. The very light they merged with now, by all definitions of the word, was Merciless himself, betraying them as he now saw all of them with his watchful eyes.
For Crimson Dawn was part of Merciless body.
His expression was stoic, but he surveyed the army, his voice low but edged with disdain.
"Hmmm... I see, 382,005 of you, and one leader... ha?!"
Merciless said to himself.
Of course, he assessed the situation calmly and continued speaking.
"Seriously? This is all you've got?"
