Kraft had never actually experienced a real battlefield before today.
It was undeniable that sometimes he felt as though he had experienced one countless times. After his sword had tasted the feel of human and inhuman flesh, even the most cautious person could easily come to think, That's all there is to it.
That was a misconception, an illusion brought on by picking off scattered enemies one by one and gaining the advantage through traps.
A real battlefield should be more like the situation now. Individual traits were ground away, many becoming one, forming some vast whole with few weaknesses, governed by a dull, chaotic consciousness.
This whole expressed no intentions. All it had was marching Shield Armor, the scraping and clanging of Iron Spikes, and murmurs among them that might have been human voices.
Green began to feel grateful for their encounter in the Sewer on that rainy night. If they hadn't had that experience beforehand, someone might have had a breakdown when they saw this thing in its present form.
Of course, things weren't much better now. Even the most disciplined group could do no more than hold on to their sanity and keep moving together through the passageways.
Before they fled, Yvonne picked up a Javelin from the ground and hurled it. The weapon's blur was nearly impossible to make out before it sank into the darkness, striking something with a metallic clang that rang like a Bronze Bell.
It did nothing to slow the advance. With a teeth-grinding sound of metal expanding, the dent from the impact swelled back into place.
A force lethal to an individual wasn't enough to injure the amalgamation. It seemed like some malicious joke about "the power of the collective," literally twisting different bodies together and breaking down the barriers between