At one point, as he flicked the body of yet another enemy off his blade, Hadjar saw the archers. Their faces showed only fear and nothing else. In a frenzy, they drew their arrows and aimed at the lone figure who had broken away from his squad and was charging them like a harbinger of doom.
Bowstrings sang. Arrows hissed through the air and rained down around Hadjar. They licked at his legs, leaving searing scratches behind, kissed his shoulders, leaving fiery and bloody marks everywhere, but the General was quicker.
His sword managed to deflect the most threatening and accurate projectiles as he swung it artfully to intercept them. Yes, he was no longer a Thernite. Yes, his body possessed only mortal strength. But this mortal had spent nearly seven centuries immersed in endless battle a
