With his falling, the last of the resistances against the cavalrymen fell with him. The level 80s were moving before he even hit the ground, and with them, the screams began.
Screams rained on the entirety of the battlefield. The worst screams were those that came from shock, and when it came to inflicting such a shock, none seemed to be better at it than those that were closest to Vol.
Once more, Silverfish found himself in the air, on the saddle of another man's horse, with his blade sticking through the man's back. He couldn't help himself. That sort of reckless madness was in the very marrow of his bones. He ached for victory and conquest like a starving wolf ached to be fed.
That was the fourth level eighty that he and Vale had killed together.
