Chaos erupted through the empire's formation like a crack spreading across glass. What had begun as a steady, disciplined advance is now devolving into staggered lines, men tripping over bodies, and officers screaming orders no one could hear.
Less than an hour had passed, and already their numbers had been shaved down at a horrifying rate. They're now exposed to the direct attacks of the enemies, as their barrier was shattered completely by the weird arrows of the Aethelgard.
"Raise it again! Get it back up!" the generals roared. The command shot across the line, reaching the cluster of sorcerers at the center, where Selvaris stood pale and trembling.
"Lord Selvaris, we need you!" One of them snapped, grabbing his arm. "You must anchor the spell!"
