Everywhere Dyon looked on the battlefield, there was yet another talent shining through.
Aoife and Stella were like a pair of devilish beauties, one wreathed in blue and red flames, the other with beautiful white horns that gave her an exotic appeal.
Under the lead of their husband and Dyon's god son Sarid, they headed the Mino and Belmont armies with a smile on their faces, mowing down swaths of Deities and making a mockery of their race's moniker.
Sarid himself swung two massive battle axes twice the size of his own body. His deep brown skin glistened with sweat and blood, but the latter wasn't his own. Every swing seemed to create the illusion of a crescent moon, juxtaposing a gorgeous sight with bloody murder.
On another side of the battlefield Dyon three disciples were making him proud. He had worked them to the bone over the last near century, but the results showed for themselves.
