They were just soldiers—ordinary men who knew fear. And when faced with an enemy beyond their comprehension, one they could neither fight nor fathom, their only option was to flee.
Hutson had cut down every soldier who dared approach, yet he made no move to chase those who fled in terror. Even so, the battlefield had taken notice. More soldiers, drawn by the commotion, began converging on his position, determined to reinforce their failing ranks.
In their minds, no matter how powerful an opponent was, sheer numbers and coordinated tactics could always tip the scales. Even a Grand Knight had to respect the force of an army.
But Hutson remained impassive, his expression unreadable. With his sword in hand, he stepped forward—straight into the approaching mass of warriors.
He tore through them like a storm, swift and merciless. A tiger among sheep. Their armor might as well have been paper, their shields no more than twigs. Not a single strike could hold him back.
