Bal Zhijin clutched a bloodstained choppa to his chest as thunderous roars from every direction echoed with his pounding heart.
He was a low-ranking guard with an honored yellow helmet, assigned to garrison this place not long ago. His mob had only just been established and had yet to gather a hundred strong senior guards. There were not many capable lads here.
The sudden invasion several days ago had disrupted his plans. Bal Zhijin had no choice but to lead his mere sixty-six boyz in holding the fort. They had not even had time to replace their weapons with better ones; most could only arm themselves in some pathetic fashion, with pieced-together iron scraps and old tools.
He looked around the wrecked passageway and wondered how long their numbers could hold. Perhaps all they could do was become unrecognizable heaps of charred flesh beneath the walls.
The passage was scorching hot. The invading killers were roasting the entire fort. Bal Zhijin raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow and exhaled deeply through clenched teeth. This situation was insane. The lower levels of the fort had basically fallen, and those fire-loving bastards would burn everything before them. The very idea of driving them back now was absurd.
Bal Zhijin's massive build was rare in Bloodfang Fort. His tall, muscular body allowed him to keep his life in battle, but to those black-oil-wielding bastards, there was not much difference between burning a boss to death and burning a Snotling to death.
His boyz stared at Bal Zhijin nervously, hoping to draw some courage from him.
A boom came from deep within the passage, accompanied by the echo of heavy footsteps. It was an ominous sign. The great enemy had arrived.
"Give 'em something to look at!"
Bal Zhijin raised