Chapter 43: Temporary victory

Foster stood facing the ramparts of Vollua, his body covered in fresh wounds, his muscles tense with effort. He knew he no longer had the strength to fight head-on. His condition no longer allowed him to call upon the Avatar of Life, and yet it was now that everything would come to a head.

The Obscurus were advancing en masse.

They were no longer an organised army but a black tide of rage and chaos. The absence of their generals had not made them back down, on the contrary - they were now uncontrollable, with a visceral hatred and a destructive instinct.

The elves, posted on the walls, held their ground, but fear was evident in their greetings. Their Lord and his group had been gone for too long.

And now, the enemy was here.

Foster closed his eyes for a moment.

'If you know the enemy and you know yourself battle, you need not fear the outcome of cents.

This was the very essence of the Art of War.