From the high window of the tower, Dredge and Veyna observed the battle below. The flickering lights of Magic and metal clashed in the darkness painting the courtyard with chaos. Sparks flew as steel met steel and crimson energy blasts illuminated the Elves as they fought with all they had.
Veyna's lips curled into an amused smirk. Her eyes danced over the battlefield, taking pleasure in the struggle.
"They fight well for their primitive kind, yeah?" she mused, tilting her head as she watched Aerchon narrowly evade the massive construct's blade. "But it won't be enough, though. This will be over soon."
Dredge, however, did not share her amusement. His masked face remained flat, his sharp eyes tracking every movement below.
He saw what Veyna saw. The Elves were outmatched, their strength dwindling against the relentless swarm of Laston's machines. But there was something else, something she keeps ignoring even though he had said it before.
