Dawn in the Southern Valley arrived not with light, but with sound.
War drums thundered from behind the hills—hundreds of instruments beaten in unison, creating a rhythm that made the earth tremble. It sounded like the heartbeat of a giant, accelerating with every passing second, growing louder and more frantic, as if to crush the morale of anyone listening before the first arrow was even notched.
Riven Sudrath stood atop his command tank, his left hand on his hip and his right gripping the handle of the engine-axe resting against his shoulder. His eyes were fixed straight ahead on the thickening dust at the southern horizon. Behind him, three hundred Wolf-Tusk and Titan MK-1 tanks were arrayed in a formation prepared through the night—Wolf-Tusks at the front as the spearhead, Titan MK-1s behind as the secondary bulwark. Five thousand infantry stood on the flanks, Sudrath Spears in hand, magazines fully loaded.
