The battle raged as the horde continued their assault, the remaining army soon reaching the walls, and their immense numbers crowding as they smashed against the walls, many of them dying, squished between the walls and the other monsters who cared not for their brethren and were charging with full force.
Reign, who was still wielding one sword, was still in a trance-like state, his movements fluid, his mind free of any distractions as he focused solely on the sword he wielded in his right hand. Each swing of his sword was deadly and precise, cutting down the monsters that dared approach him with dreadful efficiency.
He wasn't even consciously thinking about his actions anymore, his body moved by itself, guided by what seemed sheer instinct as he only focused on improving each swing, improving his foot placement, the way his body moved, the way his hips slightly twisted when he swung the sword.
