The leaders of the Ironclad Lion Corps were in complete disarray.
Right now, they were supposed to be preparing for Count Crestâs territorial skirmish. What should have been a simple lesson to put some arrogant upstarts in their place had turned into an uncontrollable mess.
Tyron paced back and forth, growling as he snapped at Zark.
âYouâre telling me they didnât even need the others? Just three of them? Three people took out all our men?â
âYes... Thatâs correct,â Zark replied, his voice subdued.
In reality, Ghislain had been using a variety of enhancementsâhis body layered with magicâbut none of the Ironclad Lion Corps had been skilled enough to notice.
Tyron furrowed his brow at Zarkâs confident report and nodded.
âI see. So that nonsense about him being a mage mustâve been deliberate misinformation.â
He trusted Zarkâs judgment, built over years of working together. If Zark said the mage hadnât used magic, he believed him.
Still, the fact that they had encountered three fighters of advanced knight-level strength was alarming.
You didn't buy this chapter
Buy Now (3 coupons)