With each passing moment of battle, the pile of Deathstalker Scorpion corpses beneath Ethan's feet grew taller.
His arms trembled from the weight of the thousand-pound Twilight War Spear, and his gaze darkened with fatigue. He had been fighting for what felt like an eternity, yet the swarm showed no signs of thinning.
Even now, the tide of scorpions stretched endlessly toward the horizon, surging forward with relentless aggression. From his high vantage point atop the mound of corpses, Ethan spotted a group in the far distance—about a thousand yards away, near where the earlier crowds had fled. They were locked in battle with two scorpions. One giant scorpion already lay dead beside them, but human casualties were heavy. At least four or five had fallen.
Ethan's limbs ached with every movement. His shoulders burned, his hands were numb. No matter how many he killed, there were simply too many.
Suddenly, the light dimmed.
