Lumberling's grip tightened on his spear, confidence radiating from every line of his body.
Then he moved.
In an instant, soldiers fell, clean, efficient strikes that left no room for screams. One after another, armor crumpled, shields split, and blood hit the dirt.
Lumberling didn't hesitate, didn't falter. His spear flowed like a living extension of him. Blood sprayed across his hands, slicking his grip.
The men's morale began to crack. Their charge slowed, fear dawning as they realized this was no ordinary warrior. Hesitation spread, curses whispered between clenched teeth. Some wanted to flee, but Lumberling gave them no chance, he was too swift, too relentless. In minutes, their numbers were halved.
"Hold your ground!" a commanding voice roared despite the chaos.
