Kaz rejected Adamas's offer to train under him. Which got Lex recalling something that Tyson said when they met Kaz."Hihi! Well, he's stronger than me, Lex, and if it weren't for him, we all wouldn't be here right now." That was the case. At first glance, one would think that Kaz was being overconfident in his abilities, but. 'He came from the Eastern continent. Of course, he won't require any training at the moment.' Adamas then turned his sight to Jolie, who was drinking coffee while reading a book. He then walks up to her. "Well, then, should we get on with your training now?" "Eh? Me!?" She points at herself as she keeps her book away. "No, I am not a fighter." "I take it you're a part of this clan as well... Do you plan on forever remaining a liability to your peers?" "Hey!" Tyson removed his blindfold and rushed towards Adamas. "Nightshade is looking for talents, not only fighters. We're truly grateful for all your help, but if she doesn't want to fight, she doesn't have

"Take care, Tyson.""We'll be back before you know it, hihi.""Farrow.""Yes, Sir Lex?""I don't know what you might find out there, but... try and keep your calm at all times."Farrow smiled at the advice from his teammate."I know you must be thinking that there's a chance Irene is alive. Don't get your hopes crushed and your will shattered even further.""Don't worry, Sir Lex; whatever happens, I won't lose focus on the mission at hand. This battle isn't just for revenge. It's also for the faith of two nations and possibly the entire Western Continent."As Farrow was bidding his farewell with Lex, Tyson was having a conversation with Kaz in private. "Kaz, you'll take command of the clan while I'm gone. Keep an eye on Vlaimir as well; I'm worried he might be overtaken by his emotions, especially since Fiendlown knows his way around getting inside a person's head. Vlaimir can be reckless when not kept in line." He was referring to the way Vlaimir and Farrow acted when Fiendlown appe

Current battle analysis:Enemy Army: 620Ally Army: 40"We've managed to cut their ranks."Lex said as he used a new technique."Shooter's Fencing Second Form: Arc!"He moves his fencing sword in an arc pattern as the slash wave cuts down the enemies in front of him."But we're still heavily outnumbered." He noticed Kyara desperately firing arrows as she was being surrounded from all directions by the enemies."Here goes nothing..." He channels his aura into his blade.He raises his sword. "Shooter's Fencing Third Form: Rain!"Four aura blades appeared floating atop him as he sent them crashing into the enemy ranks that surrounded the female archer."I did it." He holds his head, feeling a bit nauseated. "That last attack took a lot from me.""Huh?" He sees Kyara aiming at him, or better yet, at the soldier who was trying to attack him from behind him."Haha." He nervously laughs as he dashes towards her.They stood back to back, with no one uttering a word. They all realised what t

"Adamas!" Jolie and Vladimir shouted in unison as they sprinted towards the crumpled form of the old man. He lay in the midst of a battlefield littered with the shattered remains of his enemies. Despite his age, Adamas had put up a remarkable fight. The number of defeated clones around him spoke volumes about his strength and tenacity. Jolie dropped to her knees besides him, her hands shaking as she checked his pulse. It was faint but steady. The hermit had fought valiantly, but the battle had taken its toll. His armour was dented and scorched in places, and a deep gash ran across his shoulder. Vladimir hovered over them, his eyes scanning the area for any lingering threats."He's out cold," Jolie said, her voice trembling with concern. "We need to get him somewhere safe."Vladimir nodded, gripping his hammer tightly. The battlefield was a dangerous place to linger, especially with Fiendlow on the prowl. The clown's intentions were clear—take out the strongest warriors first

"Tsk. They've exhausted all my clones. Those bastards." Fiendlow surveyed the scene, his lips curling into a wry smile. Vladimir was bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving like a bellows. Sweat dripped from his hair and stained his ragged shirt. The bruises on his arms and face stood out like dark splotches against his pale skin. He could barely keep his balance, swaying with each laboured breath."Not looking so good, are you?" Fiendlow teased, his voice laced with mock concern. He was relaxed, his stance casual, but his eyes never left Vladimir, watching every move he made."Huff... Huff..." Vladimir's response was little more than heavy breathing. He was struggling just to stand, let alone mount any kind of offence. Despite his best efforts, Fiendlow had avoided every attack he'd thrown for the past fifteen minutes, moving with the fluidity of a dancer."Fiendlow's Elbow!" Fiendlow shouted as he dodged a sluggish punch from Vladimir, spinning on his heel to deliver