One axe!
Just one axe!
Carion's eyes were bloodshot as he watched the monster cleave his respected Battle Group Commander in half, along with his sword and armor!
But what could he do?
He could only grit his teeth and continue running with fifty Ironfist Ambassador warriors, running ceaselessly.
This was the order from the Battle Group Commander, asking him to preserve the last lineage of the battle group, hoping to rise again in the future.
This is a daunting task, not only for the future but also for the present.
If given a choice, he would rather turn back now, to die a meaningless death alongside his battle brothers, than to live on in disgrace, carrying such an overwhelming burden and guilt for countless years.
But he couldn't.
His responsibilities were too heavy.
And that monster was too terrifying.
Forty minutes ago, his battle group was still basking in the joy of victory.
