The world shook and groaned as Force Arts filled the skies. Supported by the mountains they were built upon, they wiped out Invalids in droves, and yet for every one they killed, there seemed to always be ten more lying in wait.
However, it wasn't the numbers that made the Dwarven Race so solemn. It was the idea that the powerhouses of the Invalids had still yet to take any action at all. They treated the lives of their fellow Invalids so casually and without the slightest care. They were more than willing to let them whittle down the strength of the opposition like moths to a flame. Ultimately, if you gathered enough of them up, even the most eternal of flames would be snuffed out.
By this point in the battle, after having been raging for an entire two months, armies of Mortal Races had been organized and deployed. There were even many Demi-God armies that had descended from the Demi-God Realms to help out.
