"What's going on here?!!"
Blakar's voice cracked out loud as he emerged from the fog, leading the one thousand and five hundred of the Bulltor forces. The sight that greeted them was nothing short of an apocalyptic, brutal scene. By the time they arrived, the fifth wave had just erupted from the den.
The numbers were staggering: four thousand and eight hundred machine units in total. Two thousand four hundred D-1000s that stopped around the den, laying down lots of fortifications there, led and directed by one thousand two hundred of the hulking S-1000.
But it was the sky that truly paralysed the Bulltors. One thousand two hundred flying drones hovered in a massive, silver-winged formation that reflected the light of the pocket trial. To any other warrior, the sight was a death sentence. To John, it was another day in the pocket trial.
John was already a blur of motion, soaring through the air. Since the third wave, he had settled into a lethal, effective routine.
