A quarter mile away from the scorched, blood-soaked battlefield, three bandits ran like madmen, desperate to flee as far as they could.
These three were the only ones lucky enough to survive the dragon's breath, but even then, they didn't escape unscathed. Their bodies were covered in burns and bruises, their eyes full of terror, and their minds in utter chaos. One of them sobbed loudly while fleeing, another stared blankly at the ground.
The most rational of them mumbled with a shocked expression:
"He's a monster."
"A monster."
"He's not human like us. He killed everyone he spared no one. Not even his own followers." Every time the bandit remembered Arvan's cold face and mocking gaze, he trembled from the depths of his soul.
