Viscount Frey felt his heart suddenly lurch for no reason. An extremely ominous feeling sent a chill through his entire body.
The next moment, all the wailing seemed to have had a pause button pressed. The air suddenly fell silent.
Everyone froze.
Something seemed to be falling from the sky. Viscount Frey widened his eyes, yet he could not see a thing. But when those things struck the ground, ripples spread outward.
Like rain falling upon a lake, splashes rose—
Red splashes.
Blood and flesh sprayed everywhere. Soldiers, armor and all, burst into fragments. Like a mist of nitrogen and argon, carrying the stench of blood, it swept across the entire formation from the front in an instant.
Like a storm brushing over the surface of the sea.
Yet none of it made a sound, so quiet it was like flowers blooming.
With every bloom, a row of people collapsed. No one was afraid, no one wailed. As they watched the dancing blood and flesh before them, only confusion showed in their eyes.
What had happened?
Viscount Frey drew his command sword, but the order caught in his throat.
What command was he supposed to give? Attack? Where was the enemy?
Take cover? Where could they take cover?
He clutched his sword in confusion, like a child trying to ward off wind and rain with a stick.
The wind and rain stopped.
The people looked around in bewilderment, dazed and blank. Blood splashed across their faces trickled into their mouths, and only that sweet, fishy taste brought their sluggish souls back into their bodies.
It was as though they had awakened from a nightmare, only to discover that they were already in hell.
Terror instantly enveloped every lost soul. The soldiers vented the fear overflowing within them through the most