Lin Ye's figure charged forward again, spear in one hand. He was faster than before, his strikes growing ever more frenzied.
The Eight-armed Race Warriors of the Blood Slaughter Tribe were renowned in this region for their fearlessness in the face of death.
Retreat was not in their vocabulary; their glory was forged upon the bones of their enemies.
But at this moment, that glory was being brutally crushed by an incomprehensible humanoid monster.
When Lin Ye's spear smashed another six-armed elite's head, splattering blood and brains across the face of its comrade, the comrade's axe-wielding arm faltered for the first time.
As it watched the figure stroll casually among the corpses of its kin, not a single scratch on his body, the frenzied will to fight in its crimson eyes gave way to a more primal emotion.
Fear.
Once the thought took root, it spread like a plague among the remaining Eight-armed Race Warriors.
