Freya seemed as if she wished to offer a warning, but in the end she held her tongue.
She turned and whispered an order to Cheryl, who immediately set off for Frostvale to muster reinforcements.
Freya's formidable mind power swept in every direction—yet she could not sense even the faintest trace of the twenty thousand peak grandmaster-level powerhouses she had seen earlier in Eryndor City. The absence itself unsettled her.
At last, her gaze returned to the steady back of Aurek.
Upon the Crimson Hills, crimson leaves drifted down like rain, covering the slopes in scarlet.
The stout elder and the gaunt elder both frowned.
"Bold, I'll grant him that," the stout elder rasped.
"To dare lead a personal campaign straight against our Crimson Hills? Let's hope he leaves his life here forever."
A vast tide of mind power surged from him, blanketing mountains and plains without end. Within that field, he clearly perceived the Empire's countless legions—
