Standing atop the mountain peak, Cristian removed his chest plate, his gaze fixed solemnly on the ancient scroll in his hands.
His dream was to assemble an unstoppable army, and though Berserkers might not be inclined to function as a unified force, they possessed their own distinct advantages.
Each Berserker was crafted to be a devastating force, their explosive strength formidable despite their flaws.
Legends mentioned that the god of war mirrored the fighting style of the ancient Berserkers, indicating their prominence among warriors.
As he brushed his hair aside, a sudden touch on his back startled Cristian. Cold palms carefully tied his long hair into a ponytail.
"This should prevent it from bothering you," her pleasant voice cut through the chilling wind, reaching his ears.
"The weather is harsh; you should seek shelter inside the tent," Cristian cautioned, turning his head to Nyx.
