Ethan was a little disappointed in himself for not having taken part in the battle, especially considering how much he loved crushing greenskins under his blade.
Still, he had to restrain himself.
His real battle was yet to come, especially since he wanted to test his strength against an established fourth-stage warrior.
With calm strides, he stepped down from the high platform, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
Around him, the last of the greenskins were being cut down amid muffled screams and the wet, dry sound of blades tearing through flesh. Healers rushed back and forth across the bloodied ground, tending to Goldenveil's wounded.
In total, about one hundred and fifty soldiers had been wounded, ten in serious condition, but no deaths to mourn.
Ten thousand soldiers against thirty thousand enemies—an almost complete massacre, without a single casualty on their side.
Ethan felt his chest swell with pride. It had all been worth it.
