"Charge!" Frigs shouted on top of his lung. Leading the charge of his own army as arrows above their heads supported them from the sky before descending and killing many of the enemies.
Bloodthirsty and filled with adrenaline in their blood, the soldiers charged forward, the first line of infantry stretching their formation wide and long. Sir Tranton and Arthur leading the charge on the left and right flank, to flank the enemies.
It was clear to their eyes, Qadir nor the soldiers under him. If they didn't do anything, the consequences would be deadly, 'If this goes on! I might lose the battle!'
Halfway through the field of dry grassland that was once a place of no-man's-land between both armies, seeing the smirk on the face of Frigs. His mind, that was once filled with a sense of panic, was replaced by the sense of anger for a reason. In an instant, a shout came out of his vocal cord, "Prepare for battle!"
