A few hundreds kilometers away from the rear camp of the Devourers and almost a thousand kilometers from their entrance on the Path, a group was waiting, as if to welcome the incoming guests. It was composed of a few thousands Macans standing with stern expressions and straight back in their armors while looking forward with eyes like the blade of a weapon.
The silence on their side seemed so harsh even compared to the whispering breeze that passed by, caressing the grooves of the metallic war garments along the way. They also looked like statues that would guard the way to the camp and the entrance behind them just with their momentum, statues one would never expect to move.
