The cloud shaded the light of the moon and the tide became low. The leaves crippled and detached away by the northern wind. The mercenaries of the Glade assembled outside wherein they are prepared and marching towards the fight.
The mercenaries stayed in different positions the medics are behind the front lines and were protected by the newbies from the hands of the enemies. Alastor dashed and went to his line in which is in the forest. He held his blade with care and swing lightly, feeling the lightness of his blade that was enhanced by the blacksmiths.
He sheathes it and rested his eyes, releasing his breath, and exhaled again. He continued his mantra, controlling his breathing as the voices of the other warriors dissipate when he closes his eyes. Whenever he felt that he’s had enough
