The fighters of the Empire of Talan fled in disarray, resembling a limping dog with its tail between its legs. Their meticulously planned raid on the marshlands had fallen apart at the seams, undone by the presence of the white-haired figure who had turned their well-orchestrated assault into a catastrophe. Canna, with his calm and calculated strikes, had shattered their ranks effortlessly. Now, the once-proud Empire's soldiers ran, their hopes dashed against the reality of what they had faced.
Canna stood tall amidst the aftermath, his troops assembling below him. His white hair shimmered in the sunlight as he surveyed the marshland below, still crawling with monsters. His forces, seasoned and battle-hardened, were ready for more. Canna couldn't help but smile as the adrenaline from the skirmish coursed through him.
