Departure

He clenched his fists. Whatever happened, he was ready to face this uncertain future.

The timid light of dawn tinted the hills a golden hue. The time had come.

Today, he and a score of his men would head south, leaving behind the soldiers, the village and its inhabitants, as well as a large number of saber-toothed tigers.

Outside, activity was just beginning to pick up. The first mercenaries, their hair still in disarray, were starting to get ready, and villagers were coming and going between the rudimentary wooden houses.

Baron Irut's well-organized soldiers were already up and training, led by Killian, who looked very serious.

He was standing shirtless.

Several menacing scars, some from Orac, could be seen on his torso.

But in this world, instead of being repulsive, they glorified Killian's body. As if he looked more intimidating than he originally did.

Maxime nodded and waved to a few new mercenaries nearby.