The cacophony of screams, explosions and clashing of weapons echoed towards Milo's ears. He crossed his legs, sitting down and resting his hand gently on his knee. None of the major players had moved yet, despite the senseless deaths on both sides.
Kwaki was stood in his usual position, in the middle with his hands crossed and back straightened. Rekior stood across from him, mimicking his stance but sporting a rather excited smile. To Rekior's left, Marcos was constantly looking around, his eyes dashing from the trees, towards the slop and back to the battle.
Dark on the other hand, was on the far right hand side of the battlefield, continually slashing down countless Ishaks that crossed his path. He had felled well over 40 by now and had barely made a dent in his mana reserves. It was no shock to Milo though, someone like Dark could kill these guys with ease.
'Will Kwaki lose?'.
