The pass loosened even more as the bodies were crushed into pulp, allowing more warriors to squeeze forward.
A Zerith layer 2 had finally managed to climb over the pile, his venomous claws extended excitedly.
Sol grabbed its throat, lifted it off the ground, and drove the sword through its chest, the high-frequency edge liquefying everything inside.
The body was thrown back into the horde like garbage.
The slaughter was relentless. The pass had become a meat grinder. The screams never stopped. The blood never stopped flowing. The stench of death filled the air so thickly it was almost impossible to breathe.
Sol stood in the middle of it all, his black armor now completely drenched in blood, his expression calm and cold as he continued his indiscriminate slaughter.
The trap had worked perfectly.
The Coalition army was destroying itself in the narrow pass, and Sol was the butcher at the end of the line.
