"Come… It's either I die, or you die, there is no way around it!" Even if he was scared by such a terrifying sight, William steeled himself and kept racing the steps forward.
The ground beneath his boots was vibrating with a rhythmic, bone-deep thrum that signalled the approach of the twenty dust storms.
It was finally time to show the magical effect of what he had spent hours painstakingly making back at the forging ground of the clan. He had worked until his hands were raw and his spirit sea was drained, all for this singular moment of tactical disruption.
He had intended to create a commotion when he jumped off the walls, using his unique methods so that the higher-ups and scary spirit masters would notice him.
He knew that in a battlefield this large, a lone porter would be ignored unless he became a beacon of impossible achievement.
