Countless shadows were running through the woods under the dark curtain of the night.
The witcher-knights, who were once the rulers of this plane, had now become frightened birds fleeing from a bloodthirsty hunter.
They took off their heavy armor, tossed aside their iron knee pads, and threw away their helmets. Some knights even let go of their runic bows, only keeping the single runic sword and slim shield with them.
They panicked like dogs without a home, running quickly through the night's thick and enigmatic mist. Some knights tripped on thick tree roots, while others fell off cliffs of four or five meters.
Three radiant knights led the charge in front, while the other four led a group of spellbreaker knights to cover the rear. The army retreated as they fought, forcefully opening a path of blood and flesh through the forest, breaking through the heavily surrounded hill.
