A sky-darkening barrage of arrows arced through the air, stretching the limits of their range, ensuring a near-perfect carpet of destruction upon impact.
Thwip-thwip-thwip—
The forty-plus low-level monsters Orson had pulled were instantly turned into pincushions under Raven's precise command.
Thick, sickly green liquid splattered across the frozen battlefield, adding a disgusting sheen to the ice.
"Squad 246, pivot—volley!" Raven's voice was cold and decisive.
The marked archers smoothly rotated, drawing their bows once more.
"Squad 379, left rear—free fire for cleanup!"
"Aim for the joints on the Bipedal Corpse Bugs—cripple them!"
Another horde of monsters trying to flank Celestial Island was swiftly cut down. Severed limbs littered the ice, and the now-immobile creatures were finished off with ease.
The battlefield was an art—precision, efficiency, discipline.
