Transformation, Terror

"Hold the line, every last one of you! No retreating! We've got to smash those damned iron lumps!"

On the right flank, Silver Horn, commander of the Bull Clan's silver-armored troops, split an enemy apart with his axe and roared at his men. His elite soldiers kept falling to the enemy's Magic Cannons and other magical devices, and every loss tore at him. But he knew they had to destroy those damned iron lumps, and fast.

Otherwise, his army would never be able to charge.

He drew a deep breath and looked toward the troops flashing with magical light in the distance. Resolve hardened into ruthlessness in his eyes. "Everyone, rally to me! Stay behind me and prepare to charge. We must—"

Before Silver Horn, a transcendent Mage, could lead the charge to tear through the enemy line and wipe out their Mage Corps, hurried footsteps sounded behind him. A Minotaur scout's anxious voice rang in his ear. "General Silver Horn! The Phantom Eagle Clan just attacked our rear! It's critical! General Golden Horn sent me to tell you to stop the attack and cover the army's retreat to the grasslands at once!" "What did you say?!"

Disbelief flashed through Silver Horn's eyes. He was utterly baffled.

Hadn't the intelligence from Faoken said the Black Panther Clan had allied only with the remnants of the Froststar Clan?

Why had the Phantom Eagle Tribe shown up too?

And why attack their rear in the middle of a battle?

Countless thoughts raced through Silver Horn's mind, his expression shifting with each one.

"General, what do we do? Keep fighting?"

"...Fight? To hell with that! Retreat! Everyone, fall back with me!"

Silver Horn looked at the enemy Mage Corps, close enough to strike. He wanted nothing more than to smash those damned Leopardfolk,