Meanwhile, to the east of Romantica, Alan Nelphim watched from his castle wall. As his body trembled, a grim picture painted itself in Alan Nelphim's eyes.
The once vibrant coastal city of Westrin, once a beacon of life and love, was now transformed into ruins. The very symbol of his kingdom was being reduced to rubble, a heartbreaking sight that seemed to mirror the state of his heart.
***
"NO!"
Alan's desperate scream of terror was the first word that fell from his lips.
An orc's stone mace crushed another knight's head into a mushy mess. The huge warchief stood in his gaze, ignoring the arrows while taking down Alan's forces with his two great swords—huge chunks of stone formed into massive swords.
Another soldier ran his sword through the orc's shoulder, but the wound was barely even a scratch. In retaliation, the orc swung his blade at the man's stomach, cleaving him in two.
