Hiss, hiss, hiss—
Silvervine Tendrils, flexing and retracting like nimble limbs, repeatedly shot out from behind your broad back. They coiled and strangled in a deadly dance, tearing apart every Praetorian Guard member who tried to use Silvervine Tendrils in defensive mode, scattering shredded flesh and blood through the air!
Under normal circumstances, a well-trained Praetorian Guard member could control anywhere from three to six Silvervine Tendrils. As their combat skills improved, elite Praetorian Guard members could independently control nine.
Yet now, around a hundred gleaming Silvervine Tendrils twisted and danced around your enormous body, shielding the many Gladiator brothers and sisters following behind you from the incoming fire from all directions!
Beneath the overlapping flashes of explosions, countless panicked Nucerian civilians scattered in all directions like livestock facing disaster.
Your extraordinarily sharp senses clearly detected countless mortal troops, elite Praetorian Guard members, and even High Riders of every kind rapidly converging on the district where you were.
Enduring the buzzing Butcher's Nails above your head, you pointed Klyster, the strongest fighter among you, toward a direction of attack.
That was where the Armory you all desperately needed was located.
At the same time, you had Onomamos and Yochuka lead a group of brothers and sisters into the nearby streets to seize as many drivable Ground Vehicles and as much food as they could.
Even though the Butcher's Nails had tortured you until you had nearly lost all humanity.
The scraps of reason you retained still told you that this city was not somewhere a group of poorly clothed and starving Gladiators could easily conquer.
You had to obtain supplies and break out of this place quickly if you wanted to survive.
At that moment, a High Rider wearing a Silver Lion Mask and sporting a pair of silver wings